#I remember that I wanted to dig a hole in my bedroom and stay there forever

[glitterstarly]

I was rewatching the entire qsmp vod where Cellbit, Roier, bbh, Jaiden and Richas stayed together in the server until it closed at midnight and I.... I forgot.... about this part......

I forgot

I forgot that Maximus put my very old fanart of lobo nocturno in the entrance of the furry club ...

I got jumpscared by my own art again....

[jaidens]

Salt Air, And The Rust On Your Door - Bradley Bradshaw

pairing [s] : bradley "rooster" bradshaw x wife!reader

warnings [s] : call your dentist | tooth-rotting fluff

a/n [s] : requests are open : https://www.tumblr.com/new/ask/daniellarussoo | for my teller girlies heres bradley bradshaw!

The waves crash against the sand, pushing soft white bubbles to the surface. The wispy morning air pushes onto your skin. You wrap yourself in the silky robe you were gifted on your wedding day. The warm cup stayed in your hands as you sipped from it. Everything is calm as the sun rises over the horizon. The sky is slowly painted with clouds in pink and orange colors.

Bradley wakes up, growling as he stretches. You turn your head and stare into your bedroom. The sheets stretch and fall as Bradley wakes his muscles up. You smile as he falls back onto the fluffy pillow. His hair is crazy, and soft curls are displayed on his forehead. His eyes open, a deep hazel, and he grins at you. You can't help but smile back, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

His eyes are sleepy as he rubs his hands across his face. He yawns and stretches his arms up, taking a deep breath of the morning air. He smiles up at you, his eyes twinkling, and you can't help but feel a rush of love for him. You watch an old couple walk down to the beach, setting down two chairs to admire the sky and water. They sit in silence, content to be together. As the sun rises, a soft pink light fills the sky and they turn to each other, sharing a smile. They take each other's hand and walk away, their hearts filled with love.

One day, you hope that will be you and Bradley one day. He sits up on the bed. His hand runs through his curly, brown mop of hair. He looks up at you and gives you a crooked smile. You feel a warmth inside.

He stands up and walks to the bathroom. He comes out a few minutes later. Bradley picks up a record from his case and sets it on the vinyl player. The music starts and you watch as Bradley dances in the middle of the room. His movements are graceful and smooth. You can't help but smile at the sight, and you know this is where you want to be.

“C’mon, baby. Dance with me.” Bradley says walking towards you and you grab his hand and he pulls you into his chest. You sway to the music, feeling the rhythm sweep your body. You feel safe and content in his arms, and the world around you fades away. You look up into his eyes, and you know, this is right where you belong.

You kiss his naked shoulder. His skin smells of salt and leftover cologne from the night before. He holds you close and whispers in your ear "I love you". You smile and squeeze him tight, feeling the warmth inside you you never knew was possible.

“Well, Mrs. Bradshaw... how are you feeling from last night?” His voice is gentle and playful. He pulls away to look at you with a twinkle in his eye. You can’t help but laugh and know it will be a good day. You kiss him as his hand falls under your jaw. His touch is familiar and comforting, and you notice your worries melting away as you kiss. You feel warmth radiating from him, and you know you're safe in his arms. He looks deeply into your eyes and you feel a connection unlike any other.

You cannot believe you're married. The pilot you met after bartending with your Aunt Penny. You remember the moment you said "I do," and his eyes glimmered with joy like it was yesterday.. You feel so lucky to have found someone who loves you for you. The man that didn't care that you're life was almost falling apart at 29. You smile and lean in for another kiss, feeling content and secure in his embrace.

You're thankful for the night Aunt Penny told you to come to help out. This was after you mentioned how you lost your 9-5 job and were left alone. You were stuck in a hole you couldn't dig yourself out of. You relied heavily on that job. It was the first one you got out of college and the job hiring had been horrible whenever you were kicked on the doorstep of unemployment. You felt grateful to Aunt Penny for introducing you to your husband.

“I feel amazing Bradley. My amazing husband treats me so well doesn't he?” He chuckled and leaned in for a kiss. “That he does, my love. I'm so glad to have you in my life.” His words filled her with warmth and you felt like you could take on the world. “I am so hungry Brad.” You moaned out. He laughed, “Let's go grab something to eat then.” You grinned and grabbed a T-shirt and shorts and put them on quickly. You both raced out the door, hand in hand and headed to the nearest diner. As you both walked, you heard him humming along to an 80s song that was playing on the street side.

The sun warmed your skin as you walked California streets. You both walked into the diner and were seated at a booth. You smiled at Bradley and ordered your favorite meal. As you ate, you looked up at him to see that he was already staring at you. Bradley smiled back and squeezed your hand. You knew in that moment that no matter what happened, you were his and he was yours. "How does your food taste?" Bradley's eyes lit up as he watched you. You both laughed and finished your meal. "It is delicious. I always loved going here as a kid. Aunt Penny took me whenever she and Maverick were on a date." "I'm sure that was an interesting night," Bradley said. "I bet Maverick was a real gentleman," he joked. You couldn't help but smile and laugh. "Oh, he was! He was so polite and chivalrous, he even offered to pay for the meal!" You said, still laughing.

"That must have been something," Bradley said, still smiling. "It really was. It's one of my favorite memories," you replied. "I'm so happy I got to share it with you," you added, taking a gulp of your drink. Bradley finished his food and stood up, leaving you at the table. He walked to the counter, picked up something from a rack, and paid for your food and the thing he picked up. He walks back and looks at you. Bradley held a pack of your favorite candy. He hands it to you and kisses your forehead. You smiled at him as you see him smiling bright. You thanked him and hugged him tightly. You both left the restaurant, walking together and happily chatting.

You admire Bradley's confidence. His eyes were shut and his neck slightly bent as he let himself be warmed up by the California sun. As you walked, Bradley took your hand in his. You felt a warmth in your heart, knowing you were with someone who genuinely cared for you. You knew this moment would be one you would never forget. "You're so handsome." You smiled, lying against his relaxed shoulder, and continued walking with him. You pulled both hands together and brought them up to your lips and kissed them gently. Bradley smiled and you could feel his happiness radiating off of him. You looked up at him, into his deep, gentle, and kind brown eyes.

"I can't believe I got to marry you." You told him, staring at the diamond that sat on your ring finger. "I know I'm the luckiest person in the world." He said, his voice barely a whisper. You smiled, your heart full of love and joy. You embraced each other, knowing they'd never forget this moment. "I love you, Bradley. Thank you for breakfast."

"I think I'll pay for your breakfast forever if you treat me as well as you did last night." You smiled and said, "You mean I have to stay up past 10 every single night?" Bradley smacked your shoulder playfully. You laughed and said, "Maybe not that late, but I expect a certain standard of service." Bradley smiled and answered, "I'm sure I can manage that." He put his arm around your shoulder.

You both looked up at the sky, the blue has risen through the clouds. The puffy clouds move slowly and you feel the warm wind wave onto you. It smells like the bakery up the road and love. Love that radiates off of you and Bradley. You grasp his hand in yours. You pass a dog that makes Bradley drop down and scratch behind the puppy's ears. It reminds you of why you married him, these moments are why. He stands up and you grasp his shirt and pull him into a kiss.

The kiss was gentle and sweet, and it felt like the world was standing still. You both knew that this moment was perfect, and you felt a love that was both comforting and exhilarating. You stayed in that moment together, and you both cherished it forever. The kiss lingered, and the feeling stayed with you long after the moment had passed. You walked back home, hand-in-hand, feeling content and happy. You both looked up at the morning sky and realized that no matter what life threw your way, you would always have each other.

[harryforvogue]

Bringing the Queen Home*

hi yes hello. this fic is about persephone being a late to returning to hades!harry, so he decides to take matters into his own hands. 6.5k words and, as always, happy reading :)

tw: mention of child passing away

***

Hecate and Hermes glance at each other as Harry stalks past them again, the look on his face murderous. The effects of his rage have been prominent from the trembling of the palace walls and the cold air shifting through the gardens. His arms are behind his back as he paces, hands in fists.

Hermes is the first one to speak. “Er, my king. Perhaps we should look into communicating with Dem–”

“Say her name and I’ll kill you.” Harry’s growl is demonic. He turns his black eyes to Hermes, daring him to say more.

Hermes (tries to) stand his ground, but he shifts back towards Hecate against the corridor wall and murmurs, “Your turn.”

Hecate doesn’t bother. She’s been around an enraged Harry too many times to interfere. Whatever plan he comes up with will be his own and then he can’t go around blaming other people for the hole he digs for himself.

“A week,” Harry’s muttering to himself. “What could have made her so upset that she’s late for a week. I understand a day. Maybe even two. But 7 entire days is ridiculous.” He runs a hand through his hair, gripping it tight at the base of his neck.

Harry paces in the dimly lit hallway outside his bedroom for a little longer. And then, suddenly, he stops. Hecate knows he has a plan from the way he lifts his head sharply, eyes returning to their normal color.

“We must go up and get her.”

Hermes groans. “You’re still technically barred from leaving the Underworld, remember?”

It’s true. Last year, he’d been visiting Persephone after a particularly terrifying dream about his father, and only wanted solace in his wife. Persephone had kept it a secret very well, and had cradled his head to his chest while waiting for him to calm down. But as he was leaving, disguised as a black snake, Helion, the traitorous bastard, had identified him and alerted Zeus. And as a result, Hermes was sent to “guard” the king of the underworld to ensure he did not break the clause in his contract that (paraphrased) stated, “Do not be stupid and leave the Underworld while your wife is gone or I shall fry you on the spot.”

Also as a punishment, Zeus placed Hades on something that the mortals had made up. “House arrest” he’d called it, looking quite pleased with himself for thinking of it.

“I’ll be invisible,” Harry says.

“It will not be enough!” Hermes groans, his head in his hands. “You put me through so much stress. If I were mortal, I sure would have one of those things. Those heart conditions. The, er. Heart…heart…”

“Heart attack,” Hecate mutters.

“Yes. Precisely!”

Harry is unfazed. “You will cover for me, and if you should refuse, I will keep you as my personal servant and messenger for the next five years.”

Hermes looks up, horrified. “Five years? You’d be that cruel?”

“Quite. Do you want to defy me?” Harry’s voice is low and challenging. 

“But your brother–”

“Will never find out. I must get my wife.” Harry prowls closer to him, power radiating off him. His eyes are growing black around the edges again. “Hermes. What is your answer?”

When Hermes is all but backed to the wall with a looming, murderous man above him, he yells, “Fine! Fine! I won’t tell!”

“Good.” Harry doesn’t look away from Hermes. “Hecate.”

“Yes, my king?”

“My chariot.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Hecate?”

“Yes?”

“You must stay here and look after the kingdom.” Harry finally pulls away from Hermes when the other deity starts cowering under the dark glare. “I will be going tonight.”

Harry steps back and looks at both of them pointedly. They nod back, and then Harry disappears into his room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

***

There’s nobody else capturing her attention, Harry tells himself as he removes his crown from his head. He’d dressed up well for his wife’s return, adorned in jewelry and the finest material. He turns the crown in his hands. There’s nobody more important to Persephone than he. There can’t be.

So why is she not home?

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, falling down to his shared bed. He tosses the crown away. Could she be upset with him? So filled with rage that she doesn’t wish to see him? Was he not writing back to her well enough? Was he not telling her enough, how much he loved her? How he ached to touch her? Kiss her? Was it not enough?

Is he not enough?

Does she not wish to be his wife anymore?

His chest tightens, and Harry thinks it’s all too mortal of him to feel the physical ailments of his agony.

Persephone loves him. He knows that. He does. So why does he–?

Harry stops himself. He stands up again and fixes his clothing. He then prepares for his journey, hiding sheathed bronze weapons in his suit, tucking his invisibility cap close to him as well. It matters little of the reason for her reluctance. He will bring his wife home.

Before he leaves his chamber, Harry looks at himself in the mirror, a picture of terror. He forces his face to relax. Persephone always tells him not to be so severe. He can feel her soft fingers pull apart his eyebrows that she swears are connected. He can feel her lips on his jaw, kissing away the tension. My love, she murmurs, arms around him tight. I just want to see you smile. Please?

So then it is decided. Whatever the reason for her hesitance is, he’ll deal with it. Whether it’s a duty, or another man. He will be rational.

***

Harry is anything but rational, he finds.

Because Persephone isn’t with her mother at her palace. In fact, Demeter’s already weeping and grieving and all that fucking bullshit. The earth is cold, winds picking up as he leaves the palace.

Persephone isn’t with her mother. Persephone isn’t with him. She’s elsewhere, and now he’s angry at her. 

Now that the familiar feeling has returned, Harry wants nothing more than to quickly identify where his wife is and demand answers. So after a brief break within the trees, he stalks out of the woods then, and closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down so that he can grasp the connection between him and his wife. 

He might have felt even a flicker of something if he weren’t so angry. He opens his eyes and begins walking in the usual direction Persephone takes to return to him. Demeter has previously expressed that she doesn’t like seeing Persephone leave the way she comes because it’s “too close to home” so Persephone usually goes a town over before returning to him.

Harry’s footsteps against the earth are hard, and he catches himself caught up in his rage when the trees around him begin to shake.

What could have been so important that she refused to return home to him? 

The town over is quite far, and Harry uses the long walk to try to calm down. He doesn’t want to be raging when Persehone sees him for the first time in six months. 

By the time he reaches the town, Harry’s feeling lighter. He’s said a few mantras to himself — which Hermes told him before he left — and taken a few breaks in between miles. He’s done well, he thinks. At least by the standards of the King.

He walks on the town’s cobblestoned pathway, winding between makeshift houses and temples. At nearly every door, he stops and closes his eyes, trying to feel his wife’s presence. But everytime, he comes up short, devoid of any trace of her. He doesn’t immediately give up even though the irritation returns. Instead, he walks to each establishment, including the pubs and hotels, hoping he can feel her.

It isn’t until he’s about to leave the town and angrily trudge to the next one that he violently stops, turning his head.

There. He feels her.

He slowly turns around and scans the land. The town is busy preparing for winter, several men walking in front of him with wood on their backs, the women carrying baskets of vegetables into their homes. Some of them are bandaged, some of them limping.

But despite the excitement. Harry can feel a faint glimmer, and it tugs at his heart. He looks around. She wasn’t in the house. Not the shops. Not the pubs. She’s–

The infirmary. His eyes narrow in on the small hut-like building made of remaining bricks and wood, barely put together. His feet begin to walk him in that direction.

She can’t be hurt. She’d heal immediately if she was. 

But that reminder doesn’t make him any less worried. Suddenly, he feels stupid for being angry. Never once did he consider she could be hurt. He just assumed she’d be able to take care of herself.

It’s not a busy infirmary, though. There are a few children laying on cots with their mothers near them, but aside from that and the one healer, the room is empty.

Harry walks through it, careful not to make any sound. He hovers over the children, their pale faces flushed with fever. With a tight jaw, he holds his hand over them and reaches, removing their pain. He can’t completely heal them, but he figures anything will help. The children, barely of ages 5 or 6 he assumes, relax into their bed, eyes fluttering shut. To their mothers, it looks like they’ve fallen asleep.

He steps away and then turns back towards the room, glancing around.

The healer is dressed in all white, tall and kind. She is currently busy with helping a child enter, taking the baby of barely six months in mortal time from its father and resting it on her hip. She cradles the baby’s head to her chest and sighs softly, gently bouncing. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “You’ll be just fine.”

The mother rushes in, eyes filled with tears. “I did as you asked, Miss. Only natural milk. As you asked.”

“Yes,” the healer says softly. She brushes her fingers over the baby’s full cheek. “And you must leave the rest to me. I assure you, she will be well in a day’s time.”

When the healer turns around, Harry stops.

Persephone. Wife.

Harry immediately goes to her, but stops when she starts walking in his direction. She’s disguised herself well, the opposite of what she really looks like, but her gentle eyes remain. Wholly focused on the baby. She brings the child to the cot closest to him and lays her down gingerly, reaching for a wet cloth. The baby has miraculously fallen asleep, no doubt Persephone’s work, and she puts the cloth over her eyes.

She stands again to address the parents. The father has his arm around his wife, holding her tight as she cries against him. “She will be okay,” Persephone whispers. “I promise you.”

Some more reassurance and then Persephone steps back to let the parents sit. She goes around to the other cots, nodding when the parents thank her for her help.

And then she’s finished with her round. She stands at the back, her hands clasped in front of her, a look of determination on her face. But her eyes. Her eyes look sad.

Harry steps closer again, wary of coming into contact with her. He can’t reveal himself. Not here. He’ll have to wait until it’s dark. Or at least until a few candles have been extinguished.

So he busies himself. He too walks around and removes the pain from the children, incrementally taking away the parents’ sorrow. It goes on for several hours. He’d never known parents could feel such hurt over their children, but then again – how would he know?

And he also watches his wife flutter around. Persephone makes stew over the fire and pours it by the ladle for her patients, passing the bowls around to the children and their parents. She sits with them, whispering even more kind words. Pretends to their food.

Harry’s anger is gone. All he feels now is a tremendous amount of love for his wife. He cannot name a single other god or goddess that would do such a thing for mere mortals.

At nightfall, Persephone goes around and blows out the candles. She leaves only two and then she gathers herself, exiting the infirmary. Harry trails after her, and once she tells her replacement the updates on the children, she turns the corner and rests her back against the brick wall, staring out into the night. He sees her lips moving silently as if praying. 

His heart gives a start in his chest, the bond between them growing tight.

She’s talking to him. 

Harry approaches carefully. He removes his cap, walking in the shadows to avoid any lingering eyes from the distant town. 

Persephone sees him from the corner of her eye. She wipes her hands on the front of her dress, pulls a happy face on and then turns to him. “Good evening, sir. How can I–” She trails off when Harry steps into the dim light of the lantern perched outside. “Harry.”

“Wife,” Hades greets, eyes running over her face. He hesitates, suddenly feeling ridiculous standing so far from her with his hands tucked into his pockets. This is their reunion. He should be grabbing her. Kissing her. 

Scolding her for not sending a message.

Persephone must see it all on his barely lit face. She suddenly crumbles, her shoulders dropping. With a glance around to ensure nobody is watching, she waves a shaky hand over her face, revealing her true appearance. Harry’s heart aches at the sight of her, his hands flying out of his pockets to grab her face.

“My darling girl—”

“Harry.” Her lips tremble. 

“Yes. Yes, Kore,” he whispers, pushing her back against the wall. Her own hands grip his shirt. Every thought in his head disappears when he brings his mouth down, draping his body over hers. He kisses her hard, 6 months of sadness rushing out of him. “My love. My wife.”

Persephone’s hands trail up to his face. Then his hair where she knots her fingers in his curls. “I should have told you,” she says softly. “I know. I should have. But I couldn’t– I didn't think –” she suddenly cries and throws her arms around him, hugging him fiercely to her. “Harry. I’m so sorry. I’ve missed you so. I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t understand?” he whispers, cradling her head as she’d done for the baby. He feels himself crumble when her body trembles with sobs. “I would have. I would have, love.”

Persephone shakes her head. “You were angry. I felt it. The ground shook and I knew it was you. Oh, but Harry. I couldn't walk away from this. They needed me. The poor children. The mothers. The fathers. They’ve suffered so much already. My mother did it. I left and she– the storm. It ruined houses. Everyone was hurt or sick. The healers did their best but there weren’t enough of them so I–”

“Shhh.” He turns his head and kisses her hair. “It’s okay. It’s okay now. They’re doing well.”

“I lost a few. Got here too late and now they’re–”

“We’ll see to them. Once we’re home, we’ll see to them, I promise you.”

Persephone raises her head. Tears slide down her cheeks, desperation in her eyes. “We will?”

“Of course.” He wipes her face gently. “They’re your people. And you are their queen.” He presses his thumb to her lips when it looks like she’ll keep crying. “I love you, Kore. I was worried about you. And yes, I was very angry too. But I understand now.” He cups her face. “So let’s fix everyone and go back home, please. I’ve already lost a week with you and I would hate to lose more.”

Persephone sniffles and nods. She wipes her face and kisses him again, sweeter and softer this time. “Okay. Yes. I love you. I want to go home.”

Harry doesn’t let her go for some time. He kisses her until she can’t breathe, and then kisses her tear streaked face, her neck, and shoulders. Anywhere he can reach. And he holds her tight to him, making up for lost time.

“I love you,” he rasps against her cheek. “My wife.”

The only thing that breaks them apart is a sudden shriek.

They jerk apart, glancing at the infirmary and then each other. The other healer who replaced Persephone rushes out, wildly looking around. When she spots her, Persephone is already in her disguise, and Harry stands several feet away, invisible.

“What is it?” Persephone demands, running into the infirmary with the other healer. “What?”

“The babe,” the healer says miserably. “He’s gone. The one with the fever from yesterday. He’s…”

Harry follows behind them. The parents of the boy at the end of the line of cots are crying, huddling around their son. Persephone runs to them, meeting the family from the opposite side of the makeshift bed. She tends to the son, but Harry knows, and he knows that she feels it too. As the King and Queen of the Underworld, they’re too accustomed to death to not feel it.

He sees it on her face. The grief. The sudden sadness. The anger.

The other healer is trying her best. “I was only checking him. He looked flushed. I was just–”

Persephone raises a hand, quieting her. “Please.”

“I couldn't have–”

“I know. I know.”

Harry watches his wife stand and stare down at the now incomplete family. For several long seconds, she lets the family cry. And then she raises her eyes up to stare at where Harry is, piercing him with her gaze despite his invisibility.

He slowly nears, beckoned by her. Harry carefully places a hand on her shoulder and then reaches for his cap. Persephone’s eyes close, tears dripping down her face, hands tightened into fists.

Then, she opens her eyes and looks at the healer. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For your help.”

“I should have done more,” the healer tries, crying. “I should have done more, miss.”

“No,” Persephone says. “You did well. Please. Take a rest. It’ll be okay.”

“I can’t–”

“You will.” Persephone’s voice hardens slightly, though it still shakes. “Now.”

The young healer holds a hand to her mouth to stop her mouth and leaves the infirmary.

The parents before her are still crying loudly. The other children and parents are waking, but Harry cannot have that. He releases his cap and walks to each cot, waving a hand over their faces to put them back to sleep. It’s not a power he’s familiar with so it takes more energy out of him than usual, but soon, they've all returned to sleep and all is silent except for the cries.

Persephone dims the candles and then nears the parents. She kneels before them. Harry’s beside her again. She reaches out to touch their hands.

“Listen to me,” she says quietly. “You must listen to me.”

The grieving parents glance at her shakily. Harry can’t look at them for too long. Even the King can’t bear this type of suffering. 

“My baby,” the mother gasps, digging her fingernails into her skin. Her face is red and blotchy. “My-my only baby.”

Persephone looks behind her and nods. Harry removes the cap from his head, revealing himself. Two pairs of widened eyes slide over to him, horror growing on their faces. The mother shrieks, throwing a hand over her mouth, and she goes to rise out of fear, but Persephone’s honey voice keeps her still.

She reveals herself afterwards, but it only makes the parents shudder, their mouths opening to scream. Persephone shakes her head and pats their hands calmly.

“My name is Kore,” she says softly, power radiating from her. “And this is my husband, Aidoneus. It’s okay.”

Terror sprawls over the young parents’ faces. They grip each other tightly when they look at Harry. He can feel the intense spike of emotions when they do. He’s used to it, and normally he’d enjoy it, but now’s not the time.

Harry walks forward and kneels before them as well, putting his hand over his wife’s. “Your child is safe.”

A king on his knees. If Zeus were here, he’d rage. Perhaps Harry would too, if Persephone weren’t besides him leading.

“Yes,” Persephone says kindly. “Your child was a good person. And he has passed onto our realm. But we promise to treat him well. I shall ensure his happiness. He shall wait for you until you, too, are ready to come.”

Hades and Persephone give the parents time to understand. Their breaths stutter, chests blooming with ache, knuckles white, but they remain still, simply looking at the pair of them. The mother seems to have trouble breathing, the father absently rubs his wife’s back.

She is the first to recover and move. She throws herself onto the floor before Persephone and Hades, her forehead touching the hard ground. “Take me now, my King and Queen. Please. Take me now!”

The father is still frozen in his seat. Harry levels his eyes at him while Persephone tends to his wife. It’s better that way. Harry’s never been all that great at calming mortals, not even the dead ones.

“It is not your time. Not yet. And that is not our job. But when the right moment comes, you shall see him again.”

The mother continues to sob, clutching Persephone’s toga. “No. Please. I can’t bear to live without my baby. It took years to conceive him. I cannot. I cannot–”

“You’d do best to calm your wife,” Harry says to the father. “Mine only speaks the truth. You will be reunited and that is my oath to you, my humble worshipper. You must be patient. Do you not trust your King and Queen?”

“O-of course,” the father stammers, shakily reaching for his wife. He roughly draws her to his chest. “Darling. We trust them. We trust them with everything, don’t we?”

It takes some convincing to get her to start agreeing. She hides her face in her husband’s shoulder and softly weeps. “We do.”

“And I thank you for it,” Persephone says. “We must get going, but fear not. Just wait for the day you’re reunited.”

“Yes, my Queen.” The father watches Harry and Persephone rise. “We will. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Harry takes his wife’s hand and tugs her closer, slanting her a look. “We have no choice but to leave now,” he murmurs. With a nod of his head, the crying parents suddenly grow tired, and then they lay their heads down on the bed, falling asleep. 

Then, it’s just Harry and Persephone. She squeezes his hand and nods, looking around the room. “The rest of them should be okay. He was our sickest child.” Persephone sighs. “My mother will have to answer about this.”

“They’re mortals,” Harry reminds her gently, taking hold of her chin. “Demeter will not suffer any consequences.”

“But they become our people once dead. She should care about that, if anything.”

“My love.” He holds her face a little tightly. “We will see to it once we return home. Yes?”

Her eyes are troubled as they look around at his face. “Yes.”

“Good. Now come.” He begins to lead her out of the infirmary, slowly so that she can scan her eyes over the cots once more.

Outside, Harry takes his invisibility cap and puts it on her head. He bends down to kiss her and then transforms into a snake, dropping by her feet. Instead of slithering on the cold ground, he wraps his body against her warm leg and nestles his head on her thigh. Though she’s invisible, he knows she’s looking down at him fondly.

“Home,” Persephone whispers wistfully. “Let us go home.”

*** 

Later when they’ve settled, Hades watches Persephone thank Hecate for keeping things running while both rulers were gone. And as soon as Hecate has left, Harry crosses the throne room to her.

Persephone’s eyes widen with happiness when he wraps his arms around her and picks her up, spinning her around. 

“Harry!” she giggles.

He doesn’t put her down right away. He holds her flush against his chest and looks up at her, eyes dark. “Shall we go to our chamber, my darling beloved?”

Her eyes turn golden and she catches her lower lip between her teeth. She nods, kicking her legs behind her. Harry moves her, throwing her over his shoulder before beginning the ascent up the long stairs to their room.

“Harry!” She’s hitting his back. “Careful!”

Once the door is locked, Harry pulls her back down and tosses her onto the bed.

Persephone laughs, a beautiful fucking melody, leaning back on her palms. She takes in her devilishly handsome husband clad in his typical all black attire with a tilted gold crown resting on his brow. “You always do that. Throw me on the bed whenever I come back.”

She watches him unbutton his shirt slowly. “Oh yeah?” he murmurs. His voice is so deliciously velvet, she grows warm. 

“Even did it on our wedding night.”

Harry’s dimple shows. “What a night that was.”

“I think I still hated you.”

“And I shall be the one to let you know that I was utterly, completely…” he leans down to kiss her, voice just barely a whisper, “and pathetically in love with you.”

Persephone loops her arms around his neck. He focuses his weight on his hands. After the brief trial of the kiss, her eyes appreciatively ogle at his thick arms, and soon she’s pushing the shirt down and off the floor. Her hands make quick work of his pants.

“As you still are,” she says, blinking up at him with innocent eyes.

“As I still fucking am.”

She’s still in her toga, so it’s easy to get her out of it. Once it’s off, Harry pushes her down on her back so he can take her in. She shivers under his dark gaze. Harry removes all his clothing and then joins her on the bed. Before he touches her, she reaches for his crown, carefully removing it from his hair and setting it on the pillow beside her. She does the same with her own. 

And then she takes his hand, curiously looking at all the new rings. Harry remembers how she’d compared their hand sizes on their wedding night. How she’d stared up at him with wondrous, lust drunk eyes after tracing his long fingers. He suppresses a shiver at the reminder.

“I’ve got you some new ones too. Cut them from the finest stones,” he murmurs, holding the back of her head as he kisses her feverishly.

“You can’t keep these on,” she tells him in a small voice, her eyes lit with something he adores. “Shall I take them off?”

Harry’s mouth grows into a smirk. “Go ahead.”

Her eyes remain on him as she brings his hand closer to her mouth. She brushes a kiss on his knuckles and then slowly turns his hand to the side and bites down on the ring on his middle finger.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, growing harder.

She slides the ring off carefully and then holds it in her mouth until he places his other hand below her chin. She drops the gold into his awaiting palm.

She continues to do the same for the rest of his rings, but when she gets to his wedding band, she presses a kiss to it and then grins up at him.

“All done,” she murmurs, tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. 

Harry surges forward and grabs her face, leans down for a breathtaking kiss. Her tongue licks into his mouth, and she grinds up against him, gasping at his hard thigh against her core.

“If I were alive,” he whispers. “That alone would have killed me.” Persephone has the audacity to smile sweetly, fluttering her lashes against the bridge of his nose. “I want to taste you,” he says, holding her face tightly between his now ringless fingers. He drops the rings onto the side table, and then lays down, getting himself comfortable between her thighs.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, I want–”

Persephone’s breath hitches when he glides two fingers through her folds, hands reaching out to grab his hair.

“So wet,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to her thighs. “So fucking pretty. Is this all for me, wife? Tell me it’s all for me.”

“S’for you,” she says softly, cupping his face gently. “It’s all for you. Just… Could you–”

He slowly presses the two fingers inside of her, watching them sink in. She always takes him so well. Wary of their time apart leaving her unprepared, he takes his time opening her, tilting his fingers up and rubbing until she cries out.

“There! There. Yes,” she groans. “Oh, fuck!”

Harry grips Persephone’s left thigh, keeping her legs apart as he leans down and drags his tongue against her. She jolts again, and Harry has half a mind to raise his head and grin at her. The idea goes out the window, however, when her fingers in his hair tighten and she raises her hips to meet his mouth.

“Fuck.” She looks down at him, her eyes golden. The black sheets on their bed are rumpled, and with his wife sprawled above him Harry doesn’t know if there could be a better reunion. “It’s so unfair.”

Harry turns his head to press kisses to her soft inner thighs. “What, my sweet?”

“This,” she whispers, running her thumb over his cheek. “Having to be away from this.”

He smiles and laps her up again, crooking the fingers already inside of her. She cries out, body shuddering from the relentless thrusting of his middle and ring finger. 

“I know darling.” His words are gentle, but his grip is anything but. When he brings his mouth back to her, he tastes her like he’s starved, eyes fluttering shut and losing himself in the feeling.

His little wife whines, gripping his curls tight. Besides him, their crowns are falling to the floor where their clothes are thrown in different directions. She’s breathing hard, and despite how many times they’ve found themselves in this situation, it never gets less arousing. Exciting.

Harry’s entire body is feverish. He sucks gently on her clit which makes her quiver. His hard cock is trapped between him and the mattress, but he cares little for it right now. All he knows is his wife’s desperate whimpers and pleas.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispers to herself. Harry feels her tighten around his fingers. Before she can come, he pauses and raises his eyes to glance at her. There’s a thin sheet of sweat on her body. Her perfect, jaw dropping body that he plans on worshiping once the initial desperation is out of his body. 

“Harry,” she begs, eyes fluttering open. “I want you inside. Please. It’s too much— It’s not— I miss you so— I thought about it every day…”

He pulls away from her, gently removing his fingers. His lips drag up, skating over her hip bones and then up to her ribs. His mouth kisses each individual rib, and then wraps around her nipple. She gasps when his tongue glides over, her fingers twitching with more need.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing up her collarbones, shoulder, and then finally her neck. His hands are on either side of her head, trapping her underneath him.

She looks up at him with wide, fucked out eyes. It’s already enough to get him to spill, and she doesn’t help when her hand reaches out to wrap about his cock, giving him slowly pumps. He releases a breathy moan and continues to kiss her neck. He sucks a spot right below her jaw.

“Please,” Persephone whispers, wrapping a leg around him. “Harry. I need it. Waited for so long. I waited–”

“You did,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her mouth bruisingly. “You waited for me.”

“For months– I waited for months. I can’t– I can’t think–”

“I know darling,” he coos. “I know. You were such a good girl waiting for me. And you deserve a reward for that.”

“I do. I deserve it.”

“Even though you made me wait for an entire week, hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, my love, I should have never done that,” she sobs.

With a quick maneuver, he has Persephone on her stomach, and he hovers over her, using his knee to pull her legs apart.

Persephone lifts her hips to meet his, burying her face into the sheets. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

Harry leans down to kiss down her spine, occasionally biting and then relieving the pain with his tongue. With a hand under her stomach, he pulls her up, just enough so he can slot himself between her thighs.

“I want you inside of me,” she tries again. 

“Persephone,” he says warmly in her ear. “Are you asking me to fuck you?”

She groans, grabbing the satin sheets tightly. “Yes, yes.”

“Tell me then, wife.” He carefully holds her hips, lining himself up against her entrance.

Persephone trembles beneath him. “I want– I want you to–” she takes a deep breath, skin hot. “I want you to fuck me, Harry.”

He smiles. “Good. And tell me this, my sweet angel. Do you want me to fuck you hard, or should we take our time? Should I fuck you nice and slow instead?”

She’s in near tears from the anticipation. “Hard,” she says, glancing at him over her shoulder. Her eyes swim with need. “Hard. I want it hard and fast.”

Harry raises his eyebrows.

“Please!” she begs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He wastes no time after that, easily sliding into her. He grits his teeth at the feeling, her walls fluttering around him to get readjusted to his size. It’s one of his most favorite feelings. After six months of being deprived, her body needs to accommodate him. Needs to be reminded who fucks her so well. 

Persephone drops her head back onto the sheets, her moan muffled. Harry can feel the abrupt power surge inside of her, his own body feeling electrified when she whispers a small, “Thank you.”

He grips her hips and fucks her like he’s promised. He pulls out all the way and then sinks into her again, watching the pleasure take form on her pretty face, her lips apart as she whimpers, a tight knuckled hold on the sheets to keep herself grounded. 

“Beautiful,” he mutters along with the swears under his breath. “My beautiful queen.”

Persephone doesn’t seem to be able to say much. As if her mind has shut off, all she can manage to give him are small sounds and occasional cries, especially when he snaps his hips, driving himself into her with a pace she can’t comprehend. 

Yes. This is what he’d been missing. It’s the answer to everything. Why he feels half a man for six months a year. Why he can’t seem to breathe properly. Because of her. 

His perfect Queen. 

It makes sense. Harry needs to be intertwined with her in every way. His hands on her, her vanilla scent surrounding him, the taste of her lingering on his tongue, the sight of her thoroughly fucked underneath him, and his cock deep inside of her. 

Harry drops a hand to her clit, running small tight circles. She immediately reaches back and grabs his wrist, digging her long nails into his skin. She’ll be leaving marks, that much he knows. But he can’t find it in him to care. The longer he works her, the shakier her moans get, and the sharper her nails become.

He fucks her fast, and the pleasure leaves her with tears in her eyes.

“I love you,” she whimpers brokenly. “So much. I missed you.” He feels her tightening around him. “I’m going to come. Fuck, I can’t–”

Harry holds her tight, dropping his head to her neck. He turns and kisses her sweaty skin. “Do it. Come on, baby. Come all over me. Wanna feel it. Come on, sweet girl.”

She shatters around with him with a trembling cry of “yes, yes, yes, thank you, I love you, thank you” and he follows shortly after, her walls so tight around him he finds himself barely able to breathe. He crashes against her, crushing her under his weight as they try to catch their breaths.

Harry slowly pulls out and then wraps his arms around Persephone, only loosening when she shifts around to face him. Her glazed over golden eyes take him in, lips apart. Nobody looks at Harry like that. Only his wife.

Her breasts press against his chest, legs between his thighs. He’s so big over her, covering her view of anything that isn’t him.

Harry wipes her face clean of any tears and then kisses her for a long time, rubbing soothing patterns against her side. She nestles into his side.

“I love you,” she says quietly, reaching for his hand. She laces their fingers together. She clears her throat. “I really am sorry I didn’t come home straight away.”

Harry shakes his head once, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. “Well now you know that I’ll be leaving my kingdom to go get you if the need be.”

Persephone blinks her pretty eyes at him. He leans down and kisses her eyelids. “I personally would love it if you retrieved me every time.”

“Your mother would curse me.”

“So what?” The corner of her mouth lifts challengingly. “Are you afraid of her?”

Harry takes her wrists and pushes them into the mattress, hovering over her with darkened eyes. “I’m afraid of nobody, dear wife.”

Persephone wraps her legs around his waist again, a burst of excitement striking through her. She’s ready to go for more. Already. The only person that could match his energy.

“Oh yeah?” she says coyly. “So you’ll come get me every autumn solstice then?”

His eyes narrow. Then he’s leaning down to catch her mouth in a kiss. He mutters, “Quiet,” and Persephone knows she’s won. She kisses him back, breaking her arms from his hold, wrapping herself around him until every inch of her skin is touching his.

He pulls back and holds her face. “I love you,” he tells her softly, eyes ablaze with endless adoration. He caresses her cheek. “Welcome home.”

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter nine

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: Nobody told me that chapter 8 was labeled chapter 7 again lmaooo (I fixed it). Anyways, thanks for reading and for the uptick in comments/ messages etc, I love it!!!! Slight NSFW themes at the very beginning of the chapter!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.6k

He said something she didn’t catch on her way out. 

It sounded a lot like, “It’s always been my business to keep you safe.” 

But she knew those words weren’t true.

There was warmth against y/n’s back. She hummed and arched into the decidedly male body. There was a delicious hardness against her ass. A hand traced her hip and splayed against her bare stomach under her shirt. A mouth brushed against her neck, hot and wet and teasing. Everywhere he touched trailed fire. 

She pushed herself against him and gasped as the hand on her stomach dipped below her underwear. 

She rolled over, hands greedily reaching for the hardness that had been pressed against her, and Bruce’s eyes met hers. 

Y/n jerked awake. Her body was slick with sweat, her legs clenched tightly together to try and alleviate the ache between them. 

She rolled onto her stomach and groaned into her pillow. “Fuck.” 

It would be a lie to say she’d never had a sex dream starring Bruce Wayne. But it seemed like heartbreak had put a stop to it. Three years and her dreams about Bruce were usually more like nightmares, reliving the worst night of her life.  

Until now. 

She tried not to remember how it felt for him to look at her with desire, something that had never and would never happen in anything other than her dreams. 

“Stupid Bruce Wayne walking around shirtless,” she muttered into her pillow. She rolled back over and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. She could see the barest hint of daylight behind her dark curtains. Her heart still raced. She took several deep breaths to no avail. Her hands fisted in the sheets. 

With nothing else to do, she got up to take a shower. It was already six in the morning, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. The dream was already haunting her, and closing her eyes again would only make it worse.  

And haunt her it did. All day, the ghost of Bruce Wayne’s warmth followed her. Thankfully, she didn’t see him or Alfred and have to pretend to be normal. She was afraid, if she looked Bruce in the eyes, he’d be able to see straight through her. 

But she couldn’t stop remembering the dream. Wishing it was real. Aching with want. 

She had known staying in Wayne Tower was a mistake. There were too many memories. There was too much of Bruce’s presence, even when he wasn’t around. 

The dream that was the final straw that pushed her into insanity. 

Ten o’clock that night, and she had practically paced a hole in the floor of her bedroom, hallway, and library. Since she’d already spent a week straight deep in a research hole for the article, she really didn’t have much else to do. She couldn’t focus on reading or watching anything and she wanted to wait to hear from Gordon about the pub before digging into anything else. 

Every time she turned a corner she preemptively jumped, half-expecting Bruce to be there and able to see her sex dream written on her face. 

She glanced at the time on her phone. She had made the mistake of taking a nap earlier in the day and was wired all over again. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep and she had absolutely nothing else to do. And she didn’t want to wait around for Bruce to appear from thin air, which would only make matters worse. Besides, what if he was shirtless again? 

If she didn’t get away from Wayne Tower, she really would lose it. 

She called Gordon. 

He answered with a sigh and, “I’m looking into it.” 

She couldn’t help but smile. She stared at the study windows but was too afraid to go near them. Mobsters probably had snipers in their employ. “That’s not why I’m calling, but thank you. Do we just not say hello anymore?” 

“Hello. What can I do for you?” His voice was teasing. Poor Gordon had gotten the brunt of her boredom the past week, especially when Martinez was working and couldn’t send her memes. 

“If I don’t get out of Wayne Tower in the next five minutes I’m probably going to jump out of a window, or go outside with a neon sign inviting the Gallo family to tea.” She said it in one rushed breath. 

“Cooped up too long, huh?” Gordon said, a noise like a car door shutting in the background. “Surprised it took you this long to lose it.” 

“Yeah yeah, you’re a riot. I’m serious though. I really am losing it. I don’t care if you take me to the fucking corner store and back, I can’t be here another second.” Desperation bled into her voice. The walls felt like they were closing in on her like they had all day. 

All because Bruce Wayne had forgotten his fucking shirt. 

“I just got off a double shift with Martinez. Let me see if our other friend is nearby, alright? I’ll call you right back.” 

“Thank you,” she said, relieved that he was willing to send someone to get her out of there. Even if it was a guy who dressed like a bat. She probably would have preferred Martinez’s easy company, but at least if she met with the vigilante she could sate her unending curiosity. 

Gordon was calling back in two minutes. Y/n already had her shoes on, camera around her neck, and her pepper spray in one hand. 

“He’ll be there in five minutes. Do not go outside before he gets there. He’s going to text you when he arrives.” 

“Text me? Wow, I must be special.” She felt giddy. A vigilante was about to text her and take her…she didn’t know. Out of Wayne Tower. That’s all that mattered. She wondered if he’d let her take photos of him for her article, then imagined her camera being chucked off the top of the tower with the bat signal. 

“Only because we need you alive. And before you even try it, he uses different burner phones.” Gordon paused, then added, “You sure you’re alright?” 

She almost laughed but bit her tongue. Because she had planned on looking up the phone number and seeing what she could find. How nice would it have been for the Batman to use his own personal cell phone? 

“I literally just told you I was about to jump out of a window or invite mobsters to tea. I’m not great.” She shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “I…the tower is just too full of memories.” 

Gordon was silent for a long moment. “I get it. Just–don’t try to dig too much into who he is, okay? Respect that boundary. The city needs his anonymity.” 

She bit her lip because that was exactly what she had planned on doing. “Okay,” she finally said. 

“I mean it. I know the temptation for a reporter like you is going to be hard to resist, but he’s a good guy. There’s a reason I haven’t tried to find out who he is, even after three years.” Gordon was passionate about this, she realized. “Promise me.” 

The fire in her gut banked slightly. She felt the oily slickness of guilt in her stomach. Because now she was imagining the guy underneath the mask–the one so desperate to do good in Gotham. A guy willing to risk his life, night after night. Gordon’s words had suddenly humanized him. She swallowed hard. “I promise.” 

“Good. And don’t push his buttons too much.” 

She snorted. “Now you sound like a dad again. I can’t make any promises about that. Can’t just turn off this amazing personality.” 

Gordon chuckled. “Whatever you say. I’m going to bed. Don’t kill each other.” 

They hung up and her phone buzzed almost immediately.

A text from an unknown number. Outside. 

How do I know this isn’t a murderer? she sent back immediately. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. 

She silently apologized to Gordon as she walked to the elevator. She just couldn’t help it. Something about a guy dressed up as a bat made her want to push his buttons. 

First alley to the left. 

She stuck her tongue out at the new text. Party pooper. It was no fun if she couldn’t get a rise out of him. 

After checking in with the security guy–Alfred had told her his name was Blake–y/n stepped outside and turned left. Blake seemed loath to let her go. She wondered if Alfred had threatened him. But she wasn’t a prisoner, even as much as she felt like it. 

The Batman materialized out of the shadows of the closest alley. She tried to hide her flinch. 

“You’re kind of a creep,” she said instead of hello. He stayed where he was and let her get closer to him. She could see him eyeballing her camera. 

“Where to?” 

“Wow, great service.” She ran a hand through her hair and glanced around. “Um. I don’t care. What were you going to do? Could I do, like, a ride along?” 

“A ride along?” he repeated skeptically. She thought that one of his eyebrows was probably raised, hidden behind the mask. “Don’t you need to…?” He seemed uncertain how to finish the question. 

“I told Gordon my options were to get out of Wayne Tower or I was going to jump out of a window. Or, if neither of those panned out, get a neon sign and stand out here inviting the Gallos to tea.” She shrugged and glanced around again. It wasn’t too late that the city had gone to sleep, but no one seemed to notice them in the darkness of the alley. She was jittery, nervous. She wondered if Bruce or Alfred knew she’d left. But she didn’t owe them an explanation. 

Batman frowned. “I was going to take a look at that pub. Maverick’s.” 

She perked up immediately. “A stakeout?” 

“That camera could help.” He nodded towards it. “But if there’s any hint of danger, I’m bringing you back immediately.” 

“I never thought I’d say this, but a stakeout sounds way better than what I had planned.” She was giddy. Gordon had given her the best gift without even knowing it. He’d given her a night out of Wayne Tower and a way to be involved in the investigation. 

Batman just grunted. “Come on,” he said in that low, low voice of his. She wondered if he was deepening it on purpose and had to bite down to keep the question from coming out. She made a promise to Gordon, after all. 

He led her further down the alley to…a motorcycle. 

“What if I refuse?” she asked, just to be difficult. 

“Then I guess I can walk you to the corner and back.” 

She sighed but had to press her lips together to keep from smiling. “Fine. Do you at least have an extra helmet?” 

“Here.” He held one out. 

She raised an eyebrow. “What about you?” 

He lightly knocked a fist against his mask, which was also basically a helmet. “Bulletproof. Probably safer.” 

Without waiting for her, he swung a leg over, the bike dipping under his weight, and turned a key in the ignition. It roared to life, the sound of it echoing down the alley and back. 

She slid the helmet over her head and gingerly got on behind him. 

“Alright?” he asked over his shoulder, his voice slightly muffled through the helmet. 

She nodded and accidentally thunked her head against his back. 

“Hang on,” he said, and that was all the warning she got. 

Her arms tightened around his waist, the armored pieces digging painfully into her. His cape was squished between them, providing a little bit of padding, but her thighs ground into the armor on his legs. 

He was like a cactus or something, she thought, then snorted to herself. Cold wind whipped through her clothes. She’d dressed warm on purpose but it was no match for the wind. 

The movement on the bike came naturally to her even though it had been years. 

Bruce had taught her how to ride and…when they were seventeen, they had ridden together, just like she was riding with Batman. They would sneak out, take the bike through Gotham’s streets or sometimes out into the suburbs. 

Tears pricked her eyes at the memory of Gotham at night speeding past them. She had felt alive, free. Bruce had laughed, so loudly she could hear it through the helmet. His skinny waist had been warm in her arms and she’d pressed herself as tightly to him as she’d dared. She had pretended to be scared just so she could cling to him. 

The tears fell and caught in the helmet padding. 

She couldn’t escape Bruce Wayne no matter what she did. 

When the bike slowed to a stop, she yanked the helmet off so she could breathe. She hastily wiped her eyes, but Batman noticed. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. Again something in the journalist part of her brain gave a quiet nudge at his voice, but she pushed it away. She had promised Gordon not to try to figure out his identity but it was hard to switch off that part of her. “Too fast?” 

She shook her head, then nodded. Better for him to think she was afraid than learn she was crying over a man she had never even dated. 

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Batman surprised her as he grabbed her waist and lifted one arm. 

“Hold on,” he said, his voice in her ear. There was an odd noise like a muffled gunshot and a distant clank from above.

She shouted as their feet lifted off of the ground. She left her stomach somewhere down by the motorcycle. 

Her feet touched solid ground seconds later. She stumbled away from the Batman and landed on her ass. They were on the roof of the building they’d just been standing under. 

“You fucking bat bastard,” she gasped. She was close to the edge, too close. Her gaze snagged on the motorcycle several stories below them, tucked into a hidden dead end of the alley. She groaned and put her head between her knees. “I thought we were going to switch to a car and have a normal stakeout. Fucker.” 

A low chuckle reached her ears. “Not a fan of heights?” 

“Or unexpectedly flying!” she snapped. She knew to keep her voice low, but it was hard. Her heart or maybe her stomach was trying to come out of her mouth. She swallowed thickly. If she barfed in front of Batman she was never going to forgive herself. Or him. 

“Sorry,” he said, but didn’t sound sorry at all. 

“I’m only forgiving you because you’re doing me a huge favor,” she muttered and got unsteadily to her feet. She stumbled and bounced right into his chest. 

“I won’t let you fall,” he murmured and the swoop of fear in her gut changed into something else entirely. 

She looked up at him. But he turned his face and stepped away. 

“Will you be able to take pictures?” he asked after a moment. “You’d have to be closer to the edge.” 

She pushed away the strange feeling he had unexpectedly created in her. 

“Yeah. I should be fine. Just–seriously, don’t let me fall.” 

A ghost of a smile then he was facing away from her again. 

Y/n cursed silently. She used every word she knew and made up a few. 

Because, for a moment, she had thought about kissing Batman. And her brain hadn’t immediately tossed the thought away because he wasn’t Bruce. 

For the first time, she wanted to kiss someone who wasn’t Bruce, and the thought didn’t make her ache.

Next Chapter

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[estrellami-1]

So that bit where Steve rips I to Murray about outing his loved ones and pushing Nancy to cheat on him...

Have you considered (yes, I just realized it was part of the initial ask, but I've been dwelling on this for years, man): Not only does Joyce find out that Jonathan helped Nancy cheat on the boyfriend he DEFINITELY knew about, but she also just found out about the photos through Steve's upstairs bedroom window. Photos that could not ever be claimed as accidental. Now, Joyce has been holding a bit of a grudge against Steve since he broke her boy's camera. Jonathan only told her that Steve Harrington got pissed off and busted it, not why. And then Steve went and fought with Jon and her son got arrested while that rich boy got off scott free. That just reinforced her grudge, especially considering the stress she was already under at the time. But then she finds out it wasn't just Steve being a bitchy popular jock, but that her boy was also being a creepy dick. And she recalls that Steve not only apologized for breaking his camera, but that he replaced it, too.

Enjoy! Also @zerokrox-blog hope this answers your prompt :)

Jonathan’s been scared of his mom before, for good reasons: when he was seven and broke a vase after she’d told him to stop running in the house, at eleven when he lied about his grades, at fifteen when he snuck out for the first (and only) time.

Every time she gets really mad at him, she gets quiet.

She’s been silent for a solid ten minutes. The only words she’d spoken had been to Murray, to tell him to leave. She’d been quiet then, too, then just stayed silent.

“So here’s what I thought the story was,” she starts, and Jonathan wants to dig a hole to China and bury himself. “I thought Nancy and Steve had broken up, then you and she had gotten together. I thought he broke your camera because he got mad at you for who-knows-what. I thought he fought you, antagonized you, until you couldn’t hold back anymore. I thought I knew you. I thought I knew the son, the man, I raised, would never sleep with a taken woman. Would never hide in the bushes and take pictures of someone else’s property or body. And to think she’d been half-naked…” Joyce shakes her head, leans back in her chair. Considers the knife still clutched in her hand and very carefully places it down next to her plate. “To think that I thought he’d been acting like Lonnie. Worse than Lonnie, even, which maybe wasn’t a fair comparison for a teenager, but I thought I knew my son.” She shakes her head again, stands, picks up her plate and silverware. Doesn’t look at Jonathan when she says, “I was partially right. Someone was acting like Lonnie. It just wasn’t who I’d originally thought. And to think I held onto a grudge against him for years.” She purses her lips, steps back from the table. Whispers the next line. “You need to think very, very carefully about your next move. I don’t know if Steve’s forgiven you. If I were him, I don’t know that I would.” She steps back again. “While you think about it… well. Forgive me if I need some time to think about it too. After all, you also lied to me.” She tilts her head in thought. “If memory serves, he replaced the camera he smashed. I feel that bears remembering when you think about what to do.” With that, she turns and makes her way to the kitchen.

And Jonathan? He feels about as small as a gnat. Even smaller. Nancy’s trembling next to him, hand over her mouth, and he’s not sure he should reach out. He’s not sure she’d want him to; not sure he wants to. He does, though, grazes the back of her hand with a fingertip. She chokes, looking at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, and he helps her up, helps her out the front door and into his car, gets in and starts driving without thinking about it first.

He realizes most of the way there that he was driving to the Wheelers’. Walks inside with Nancy when they get there, all the way up to her room. Silent.

“We need to talk,” Nancy says, and Jonathan nods even as he feels like the rug’s been yanked out from under his feet.

Fighting monsters was easy compared to this.

[cantdothis-nomore]

MUICHIRO TOKITO X READER

This will be in 1st person because its easier to write :)

Part 1/??

Dead. Every last one of them. I jogged crying baby Suki on my hip desperately trying not to burst into tears myself. As i walked further into the house I felt tears start to well up the sights of my dead family. The village was silent. The smell of death hung in the air like a dark raincloud at every house blood leaked out of the hole where their front doors used to be. I walked into my bedroom at the back at the house which was upturned almost as if the demon was looking for something. I grabbed the bare necessities for myself and Suki and sprinted out the house not knowing how much longer I could hold up the facade.

I don't know how long I walked. My chest hurt, my eyes were dry, my back hurt and my arms were killing me from holding up baby suki for so long. I knew it wasn't safe but what other chance did I have? It was stay there and get malled or run and protect ourselves. After what seemed like hours walking I reached a mountain and began to trek upwards ignoring the scream from my legs. The last thing I remember is walking into a clearing calling out for help before collapsing and seeing a red headed boy and an old man with a strange mask sprinting towards me.

------------------

I woke up with a start remembering the events from the night before. I scrambled up and and pressed myself against the wall looking around at the unfamiliar place I was in. The faint sound of footsteps sounded beside me as I darted across the room desperate to get away from this unknown place. 'I am not here to hurt you,' a deep voice said I front of me, 'I just want to know how you ended up on thst mountain'

I looked up jn fright to see the man from the night before standing in front of me. I attempted to answer but it was like my voice had left me. Suddenly I remembered, 'Suki!' I thought. My eyes snapped up to the man and I suddenly found my voice. 'Where is my sister!' I yelled, the man seemed taken aback and then relaxed, 'follow me.' He said as he stepped into another room where I spotted the red headed boy who was with him last night bending over a girl. Straying my attention from him my eyes fixed onto Suki in the corner of the room. 'SUKI' I yelled and scooped her up into my arms. I started to cry as I realised that she is now all I have, and I am all she has.

The redheaded boy walked up to me and put his hand on my shoulder, ' My names Tanjiro what's yours?' He said with a smile. 'My names Y/N and this is Suki.' I said

'How did you end up on the mountain?' Tanjiro asked with a tilt of his head, 'I ran away' I replied digging my face into sukis hair as images of my families dead and bloodied corpses flash through my head, 'won't your family be looking for you?' He said. 'My family's dead,' I stated my voice wobbling. Tanjiro looked at the man in the doorway as he nodded to him.

------------------------------

The man brought us into the main room and explained to us what had happened to my family and to my surprise, to Tanjiros too.

'I realised I have not introduced myself yet,' the man said, 'My name is Urokodaki and I am part of the demon slayer corporation. The role of the Corp is to eliminate the exact things that killed your family's. Although I am retired I will train you two to become demon slayers if you are up to the challenge.'

Me and Tanjiro looked to each other then, back to Urokodaki nodding firmly. This was the best option, the wisest one. I am not going to let the person who ruined my life ruin any others again.

I learnt that Tanjiros sister was called Nezuko and she was also a demon, except she didn't eat humans which I found strange. Urokodaki promised to take care of Suki and Nezuko so me and Tanjiro could start our training.

As he led us up a steep mountain I began rethinking my desicion as the sun set. 'You must make your way down to the house before sunrise' He stated. I spun around to question him but he was gone. As I peered down the mountain I began to wonder if I could do this. I shook my head and pushed the thoughts away, if not for me, for Suki.

'We can do this' said Tanjiro. I nodded and we began our descent down the mountain.

---------------------

My first chapterrrrr

I am sorry if this isn't very good, put in the comments if you this I should continue this series and what I can do better:)

[jsprnt]

Healing Hearts PT.7 |Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

WC: 3.415

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

I shift on my bed. My body entangled in the soft and comfortable sheets as a dull ache makes its way to my head, making me groan at the feeling.

I hear the birds chirps, it must be morning already. I snuggle further in to my pillow, sniffing at the smell of the laundry detergent. Making me freeze for a second- It smelt different- not the jasmine one I usually use.

My heart practically stops at the realization. I grip onto the blanket, squeezing my eyes tightly as I realize I'm not in my own bed at the moment.

I open my eyes sitting up and dropping the blanket, looking down at my body. I was still wearing my dress and the white sweater I was given, no drunk mistakes were made thankfully.

I throw myself back on the bed, sighing out of pure relief. I try to run back my memories of last night, hitting my head on my pillow multiple times as I remember how I fell asleep.

God, I just loved embarrassing myself.

I stand up from my bed, head pulsing as I walk out of the guest room, I assume. I look around cautiously, trying to figure out if Virgil was still sleeping.

I pick up my phone from the table, checking the time. It's five in the morning. I check my notifications to see multiple messages from my friends, they sounded either worried for me or were rooting for me to "get some". I sigh to myself, sending them a quick "I'm alive and okay. I'll call you guys later." and walk back into the bedroom. I enter the guest bathroom trying to remove my overly smudged make up and get ready there with the already stocked skincare and bathroom supplies. He must have guests over all the time, I think.

I walk out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around my body. I snoop around in the closet of the room, coming across some sweatpants and throwing that on, along with Virgil's sweater. Both of the clothing items being slightly baggy.

A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts, followed by Virgil calling out to me. I curse to myself, embarrassed that I had to face him after yesterday. I walk over to the door, opening it to see a very happy looking Virgil. How could be so hyped this early in the morning?

"How did you sleep?" He beams. I give him a crooked smile. "Good." I reply, really not in the mood as my headache was getting worse for some reason. He frowns, looking at me concerned.

"You okay? You look sick." He lifts his hand, placing his palm on my forehead. A shiver runs down my spine, looking up at him. He hums before speaking again. "You don't have a fever."

"No- it's just my heads killing me. From drinking last night." I internally cringe at myself, wanting to dig a hole in the ground and bury myself in it.

"Come have breakfast. Maybe it'll cheer you up."

I follow him, the smell of fresh food hanging in the air. I walk up to the table, a nice breakfast laid out on it. "You've actually been spoiling me with your cooking skill’s hm?" I say, less energetic than I would've liked. He doesn't answer, urging me to sit down as we both start eating.

I try to eat as much as possible. I groan softly at the pounding in my head. Holding it in my hands as he looks up from his food. "Hold on, let me get you some painkillers." He says walking away and coming back with a bottle of water, white round pills placed on the table.

I mumble a quick 'thank you' before downing the pills and gulping down the water with it. I look up at him, he eyes me with a concerned look.

"You know, maybe you should stay here. Call in sick." I look at him for a second, my hands on my temples again. "I don't know if I should-" I try to protest.

"Trust me, you won't help anyone or yourself if you work with that headache of yours. Dr. Woods wouldn't mind if you're sick for one day. Stay at my place until you're better, take my house keys when you go home. I'll pick them up when I get back from training." He suggests- well more like instructs.

I raise my brows at him, pondering over what he says seriously. One day won't hurt, right? Besides, there weren't many serious injuries to take care of thankfully. I nod at him, pulling out my phone and sending an email to Dr. Woods, apologizing multiple times to him before clicking 'send'.

My phone lights up a couple minutes later. I open the email sent by Dr. Woods and scan it. He wasn't even mad, emphasizing me resting and saying he was looking forward to seeing me again.

"He's so nice." I say to Virgil as he chuckles, sipping onto his coffee. "Told you." He teases, a smile on his lips. I eye him for a second before laughing, groaning and grabbing my head in my hands. "Stop, you're making my head hurt."

"I didn't do anything!" He protests before shutting up and taking another bite of his food.

I watch him get ready to leave, sitting on the sofa as I watch him put his essentials in his bag. I lean back, a blanket on my lap as I sip on a cup of tea. I close my eyes one in a while, the light emitting from the windows hurting my eyes.

This made me feel like a football wife, and I find myself wondering how that aspect of life would feel. To go to my husbands matches and just sit, looking pretty and cheering on him- maybe that wag life was calling my name.

"I'm leaving- don't be uncomfortable and do as if you're home." He says, walking up to the door. I stand up, following him out as he flashes me a warm smile. "By the way, your outfit looks good on you. You look warm." He says.

I look down remembering I was wearing the mans clothes. A blush spreads on my cheeks before I usher him to leave. I hear a chuckle leave his lips as he looks at me with a cocky smirk on his face.

"I'll see you later, bye!" I say as he closes the door behind him. Hearing the engine of his car rev as he pulls out of the driveway. The gates closing a while later.

I throw myself on the couch, kicking my feet in embarrassment. I ruffle my hair with my hands, mumbling cuss words in the air. I lay there for a while, falling back into a slumber, hoping this headache and the feeling of shame will leave after I wake up again. 

I wake up a while later, checking the time and realizing two hours had passed. I get up, very happy the headache had disappeared.

Sadly, the feeling of shame returned when I glanced down at my- his clothes. I grumble to myself before getting up, tidying up the place. I make sure I felt better and gather my belongings.

I walk out of the huge house and step into my car to get back home.

I change my clothes when I get home. Throwing Virgil's clothes in the washing machine before throwing myself onto my bed.

My fingers tap onto my recent calls again, the anonymous call log staring back at me. Why'd he have to call me? Let alone last night. We were having so much fun until his insufferable ass had to call me. Does he not have a company to run with his mommy? Bothering me months later again. My heart squeezes at the thought. A person who's already hurt me so much trying to ruin something new I had been building. Both my blood boiling and my heart breaking at the same time.

I try to shake the thoughts away, trying to pass time with scrolling through social media until lunchtime arrives.

A knock distracts me from my phone. I walk up to my door, opening the door to reveal a tired looking Sofia and a very cheery Bella.

"Thank God you're home! I saw your car parked and wondered if you were home." I smile at her, bringing her in for a hug. "Yeah, didn't listen to you and drank too much. I feel good now though." I say, a sheepish smile on my face.

She nudges me, telling me to spill the details later. "I'm going to ask you for a favor- Can you look after Bella, I have an emergency meeting at work and her usual babysitter isn't available."

I nod at her immediately, hand reaching out to hold Bella's hand. "No problem. I love taking care of this sweet girl." I squat down to her level, tickling her, cute giggles emitting from her as she hugs me.

"See we're actually best friends already!"

"You're a saint. Thank you, I owe you one." She says, kissing Bella goodbye. I close the door, taking the toddler into the living room. Deciding to entertain her with some coloring, just like I loved when I was little.

"Bella, are you hungry? Food?" I ask her, taking her attention away from the colored sheets of paper. She nods as I try to quickly make lunch, not taking my eyes off of her.

Time passes rather quickly, as taking care of a toddler was pretty easy. I know I wouldn't be saying this if I had children, taking care of them 24/7 would definitely be a huge challenge. For now, I would be more than happy to be the fun aunt.

My phone rings breaking my focus on the simple puzzle we had been doing. I glance at the screen before picking up.

"Hey, I'm downstairs want me to go up?" Virgil's smooth voice sounds through the speaker and I absentmindedly nod, glancing down at Bella before replying for him to come up.

I open my door at the sound of a knock, telling him to come in. He walks in, his eyes darting to the strawberry-blond toddler, who's giggling and blabbering to herself. While she chucks the big puzzle piece around. I follow his gaze confused, wondering why he's looking at her like that.

"You have a child?-" My eyes widen at him, when it finally clicks. "No! I mean, not that that's a bad thing- she's not mine, I'm babysitting for my friend." I say, my face panic-stricken. "Oh." He says, his mouth forming a perfect O shape.

"Can I?" He questions, I follow what he means and nod at him. He chuckles walking up to Bella and greeting her in cute way. I smile at the sight, leaning against the dining table as I watch them interact. Giggles leaving the both of them as Virgil pretended to eat the puzzle piece after she mumbled a small 'food' when handing it to him.

The sight warms my heart, pounding in my chest. This man was so husband material, it made me stop functioning and it even messed with my hearing as I realize he'd been calling out to me.

"Hm? What's wrong?" I look at him. "Someone's knocking on you door." He says, slight smirk on his face. I pull a questioning face, walking over to open the door. It's probably Sofia, coming to pick up Bella.

I open the door a slight bit, peering my head out of the door. Sofia's confused face greeting me.

"Hey? Why are you acting like that?" She practically yells. God, she couldn't control her volume in the most important of times. I place my hands over her mouth, shushing her.

I motion my head sideways, towards to inside of  my apartment. "He's inside my home." I say in a whisper tone. "Who?- the footballer guy from yesterday?" she whispers back, a smirk on her face.

"Yeah- he's playing a game with Bella so don't freak out when you see him. They're getting along really well."

She punches my arm, and I hold back a wince, rubbing my arm in pain. Looking at her with a 'what was that for expression'. "He's good with kids huh?" I roll my eyes at her response, not being able to hold back a blush creeping up my face.

"y/n! Who's at the door?" I hear Virgil say. A panicked expression on my face as I emphasize to Sofia not to freak out. She pats my shoulder, before pushing past me playfully and walking into my apartment.

"My friend- she’s here to pick up Bella!" I say. Closing the door and turning around to see Bella jump into her mothers arm, cutely squealing at the sight of her mommy. I see Sofia and Virgil greeting each other. Not mission Sofia's crazy side eye she throws at me.

She bids us goodbye before whispering a "Have dinner with us." to me and shutting the door behind her before I could reply. She’s definitely going to interrogate me during dinner.

"So- the keys." I mumble, walking into my room and grabbing his house keys as he's sitting on my sofa. Handing them to him, my fingers grazing his hand. "Oh right your clothes." I walk back into my room, grabbing his folded sweater and sweatpants handing them to him.

"I washed them. Here you go-"

He glances at my hand, shaking his head. "Keep them. They look better on you." A teasing smile on his lips.

I bite back a smile, creeping up my face. "Oh- thank you." I plop myself next to him on my sofa, legs folded up.

"So did anything new happen today? Any injuries." I ask wondering.

“No, not really. Though, we do have news of a new transfer." He says, smirk on his face.

"Really? Who?"

"You'll find out- I think you might know him actually." I raise my eyebrows, a confused look on my face. "So you're really not telling me?" I inch my face closer to him, but his hand makes contact with my forehead, pushing me back into my original position.

"You'll find out." He teases. I huff, looking around the room, brain racking through anyone that could transfer to our club. 

"Forget about that- How are you doing?" He says, tone serious now. "I'm fine, no headache anymore-"

"Not that- I don't mean that. Last night- you were shaken up pretty badly. You fell a asleep during the movie." I freeze at his words, heart pounding in my chest. "I'm okay- just got freaked out and I'm still sorry for the mess I made." I fidget with my fingers, nails scratching against the edge of my cuticles. "It's all okay, ‘s long as you're alright." I stare at him, pulling my lip in between my teeth as I look at him nervously.

I really wish the ground would swallow me whole right now. Why do I find this so embarrassing?

I feel his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Tell me if something's bothering you, yeah?" I force a smile, nodding. He says smiles, and my mood does an entire one-eighty. My brain stopping for a second. I clear my throat, trying to compose myself and hold myself back from flushing. I had known this guy for some two weeks and this was the effect he had on me? No way.

He stands up, dusting the nonexistent lint off his sweatpants before telling me he'll leave.

"Stay for dinner then at least?" He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "I'll leave you be, think your friend invited you for dinner. Rest and I'll see you tomorrow doctor." He flashes me one of his beautiful smiles before I walk him out, closing the door behind him.

I get ready to go over to Sofia's place. Thoughts in my head keeping me occupied.

"So you're telling me- that crazy ex called you and you dropped the glass! Out of shock?" Her boyfriend, Noah watches us intently, throwing in a couple of remarks.

I groan at her embarrassed, looking at her boyfriend. "Would you speak to a girl ever again if she got drunk and made a mess in your house?"

"Not really-"

"See! This is even more embarrassing since I'll have to see him everyday at work. But he looks so- unfazed by all of the shit that has happened with me." I say face twisted into agony.

I watch Sofia smack him on his chest, a groan leaving him.

"I was just kidding-"

"Yeah- he's just kidding, I promise. You know I actually broke his car window on our third date."

I eye her skeptically, giving her a 'stop lying to me' look.

"You're just trying to make me feel better-"

"No, I'm dead serious. I slammed the door and it just shattered all over me. He looked so worried and surprised. He didn't even get mad and helped me get treated. Right babe?" She leans into her boyfriends arm as he nods.

"True- if actually cared about you he wouldn't think anything negative. He would have to accept that every one of your life experiences comes with you. So, stop worrying for God’s sake and eat!" He yells, shoving my plate closer to me. His Scouser accent is slightly faded but you could tell if you paid attention.

"Okay! Okay stop yelling!" I say continuing to eat, feeling slightly better about the situation.

I fix my scrubs. Ready to start the day and to meet our new transfer.

Coming to work yesterday wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be. Virgil and me interacted normally like always, which made me feel like nothing was wrong in between us. If us was a thing.

I still couldn't decide what I thought of him. I mean- I've only known him personally for two almost three weeks, he's fun to be with- but my feelings are so conflicted and everything I do has me overthinking. I just don't know if I seriously like him or it was just me craving attention from a man that gave me attention. Being single after five years of dating definitely didn't do me or my emotions well. What if he also changed later on?

Besides, I'm literally one of the clubs physiotherapists, that would be seen as unprofessional. I can already think of the rumors that would arise, saying that they shouldn't have hired a woman.

I run my hand on my scrubs, trying to soothe myself, before my phone pings with a message from Clara. Telling me the new transfer had arrived.

This brightens up my mood slightly. I had known Ryan from our Ajax days together, we hadn't spoken since I took the job offer from Barcelona. I had known him when he was eighteen, and I was curious of how much he'd changed a person.

I walk towards the entrance, seeing Cody and Virgil already greeting him happily as they talk out how early Ryan had to be on the flight. I stand back for a minute, avoiding the camera's. Seeing his eyes widen at the sight of me.

"Doctor l/n? You work here?!" I chuckle at him as he gives me a hug. "I do- you've grown so much. So tall now. A real man now huh?" I say smiling at him as he chuckles. I hug his girlfriend as well.

"You guys were close at Ajax?" I hear Cody say, as I feel Virgil's eyes on me.

"We were, then you left us!"

"You left not long after me!"

The guys laugh at our banter, as we chat more before I let them go. I hear Robbo saying he's happy a good Dutch player is joining them.

I smile to myself as I walk back to my office.

One thing about this job was sure; you’ll see young stars grow into and improve the insane talents they have. To see a player I was close with years ago transfer to a club, widely regarded as one of the best in the world made me very proud.

I sigh, sitting down in my chair and checking the days appointments. The match against Aston Villa is in a couple days and I have to make sure the players are in their best shape.

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

New world

Chapter one

Christian Bale John Rolfe x Female Mutant Reader

Movie: New World.

I cannot believe there are John Smith x reader stories but not John Rolfe! He is a hunk! Anyway, I am done with studying and chores for the day. So, I wrote this junk. I cannot sleep despite being 12:26 am.

Being a Mutant with Telekinesis made the world a better place. You cleaned everything you imagined, thus saving wildlife. You reduced Global Warming over eighty percent.

That gave you wealth and fame. But, there was one problem. You needed heirs to continue your legacy. And you have been pestered with suitors and it irritated you.

You wanted true love and not alliance. Despite being the most beautiful young woman in the world, you were insecure. If you weren't gifted, beautiful, or rich you were sure no one wanted you.

So, you decided to go to Jamestown. A newly made city for Europeans to settle in Native American land. The King asked you to build and cultivate.

You arrived at the said place. North America was beautiful. The plants and the clear river were naturally immaculate to the tea. You might actually stay and live here. You were originally from (Country) but your parents passed away. And you were so lonely.

Gulping, you stepped off the ship and looked around. The villagers and workers suddenly stilled and then some bowed and curtsied when they saw you walking off to the flat land and away from the ship.

"Miss Name. Welcome to Jamestown." An elderly man with a pipe and suit walked up to you. Behind him trailed a young man about twenty five. You looked away immediately. Smiling at the elderly man, you nodded to him curtly.

The young man was so handsome. He had a sparse beard and shoulder length hair. Muscular and tall. With broad shoulders and expensive black leather boots which looked amazing with his brown fabric suit. 

You didn't notice the ogling of the young man. He was surprised that the rumors about you were true after all. No one exaggerated your beauty. He smiled at you, impressed.

"This is my son, John Rolfe." He gestured to the handsome gentleman behind him. 

John Rolfe did a little bow. To make things worse, he stepped up in front of you and kissed your hand. 

You blinked in surprise. "Thank you. You didn't have too .."

Chuckling. John Rolfe grinned. "So modest too.*

Nodding, Mr. Rolfe continued talking about the new pipes and water wells he wants. 

Without a moment to lose, you used your brain to easily connect the pipes and dig them inside the dirt ground and made holes in the grass areas to see water coming out of them.

"Amazing." John Rolfe smiled at you.  "Months of hard work done already. You are a blessing."

You thanked him out of politeness. 

"You must be tired from the long trip. My mother prepared a guest room for you. Please follow me."

You followed both father and son as they led you to a fancy log cabin with a brown picket fence. It was a cozy and comfortable house. You liked it. It wasn't tacky or too fancy. You loved fiber things. So, it wasn't simple either. Just right.

The whole dinner, John wasn't the only one studying you. So was his mother. Mrs. Rolfe was admiring not only your looks but your table manners. A lot of beautiful candidates for her son were not kind. You were a good God fearing soul with good moral values. She admired and respected you. It would be grand that you were her daughter she never had.

A perfect wife for her son too.

But, you were too famous and out of John's league. With a sigh she sipped her tea cup.

After settling into the guest bedroom, John was in his own bed. He couldn't sleep. He kept thinking of you. Your gentle and graceful demeanor. So elegant you were too. What a lady. 

Sighing, he remembered reading about your contributions to society in the newspaper. John was a businessman who traded goods and donated extra money to the poor.

He loved the way you thought. Not just your pretty face.

Finally, sleep overtook him. In a few hours, he woke up sweating and his male organ was wet.

He dreamed a beautiful dream…

You, sleeping next to him on a grand fancy bed and in a fancy luxurious room. In a place he has never been. He was pressed against your naked back. And you were curled around his muscular arms. 

And he saw something that melted his heart. A wonderfully crafted wooden crib and inside not one but two babies were sleeping inside it. Both had his hair and skin color. But they both had the same type of hair and lip color as you. Beautiful angel babies. 

Family of his own.

When John Rolfe woke. A tear slid down his right eye.

"I must have her. But how?"

[westernbitch]

chapter 3!!! I promise the chapters get better!

My bags were placed into the house and John told me to pick a room. I couldn't. I just sat in the living room. Fuck. This day has been the longest day of my life. I just put my stuff in the hallway. I started to roam. I walked past rooms, then I ended up in the den. John sat on the couch drinking whiskey in front of the fire. "Evelyn? Are you okay?" I nodded at him. He patted the couch cushion next to him. I was too tired to deny wanting to lay down. I plopped myself on the couch and he passed me a furry blanket. It smelled like leather. "I have your phone. I didn't want you to think I stole it. It was on the ground next to you when they found you." I grabbed the phone from him. "Look Evelyn, I know tod–" "Please call me Evy." He smiled, "Okay, Evy, I know today was a lot. I do not want to rush you into anything. I felt like a massive hole was in my heart when your father died. He made questionable decisions." Yea like leaving me and my mom. "For one, leaving you and your mom. But I want you to know we all already love you. Please, I know this is hard, but we are here for you, just let us in. And for fuck sake, do not fucking run like that unless I know where you are going." I nodded. Lynelle came into the den. "Hey! Nice to meet you! Want to watch a movie? Or some TV? John doesn't watch much TV and he can't remember what happens." If this is his woman, I like her. I barely knew them, but they warmed my heart. Lynelle put on some show about the housewives of who knows where. I felt myself drifting off and I would start falling to a side and then wake myself up. I felt John put his arm around me. I felt safe. "This show is boring as shit."

THE NEXT WEEK

I felt the warmth of someone. They were carrying me up the stairs. "Good morning Evelyn, I am moving you to bed with Beth. John and I gotta go to work," Rip said very softly. I felt him put me in a bed, cover me with a duvet and walk around the bed. "I love you Beth, watch Eveylyn today please." Beth kissed him and told him that I would be fine. "I like her. She is like Lee. Evelyn is a piece I didn't know I needed after your brother died." I rolled over and saw them staring at me with calming eyes. Beth pushed the hair out of my eyes. "Call me Evy. I am going to go for a run. Thank you Rip, I am sorry to make you do that." the door opened, John stepped in. "No, you are not, you can stay in bed and relax. I am putting Beth on Evy duty. We will be back at lunch," John said sternly.After the guys said bye to Beth and me, she wrapped me up in the duvet and rubbed my back until I fell asleep.

I woke up to them talking about me. "We are taking her with us. I want to take her to the boutiques and maybe she can meet people her age there." I rolled over to see Beth pleading her case to Lynelle, Rip, and John. I slowly got up and told them I would go anywhere if I could get out of bed. "Well then it is settled, Evy, get dressed and come to the trucks when you are done."

I ran to the bedroom down the hall. I threw my 2 bags on the bed and got undressed. I had a quick hot shower and threw on a pair of boot cut jeans, my boots, and a loose tank top. I grabbed my hat and my bag with my makeup . I ran out to the truck as fast as I could. "Well that was quick, Beth take notes from her." Rip started laughing and acted like he was cowering from. As we started driving, Rip passed me the AUX cord. I plugged in my phone and started playing music.

Rips POV:

She smiles as I had her the AUX cord. She scrolls for a bit and the grin grows bigger. "Tulsa Time'' by Jason Boland & the Stragglers starts playing. Beth leans over and turns the radio up. I contemplated turning it back down. Evy started digging in a bag and pulled out a curler for her eyelashes. She unbuckled and sat on the edge of the seat. She starts making the O face that Beth makes when putting on mascara. After first her singing was quiet but now it's where I can hear every word. Carter is sitting in the back and has a face of wonder. Beth turns to look at him and winks. She is so good with him. She is bobbing her head to the music. My heart feels full. My baby has her hands full with two teenagers and she is beaming.

When we got to the rodeo, I told Carter to go catch up with John. "Okay, so tonight is my dad's governor party, we need to find you an outfit and shoes. Also, we need to get you everyday clothes." Beth stared at Evy with wide eyes, she always wanted a girl and now she has one. "Ma'am, I forgot my wallet. I have $20 in there. I cannot afford clothes right now." Her face was bright red and she looked like she wanted to cry. I couldn't stop myself from laughing when Beth blurted, "babe, you aren't going to pay for a damn thing." I opened Evy's door and met Beth at the front of the truck. I was walking with my arm around Beth. She leaned into me and I could sense something was on her mind. "I want her to be our other baby. I need to talk to dad, but I want to keep her." Her eyes were filled with tears. I kissed her forehead. "Baby, she's already ours." We get to the stands and I pulled out my wallet and gave it to Beth. She ran to Evy and grabbed her hand. My girls were off.

[imperfectskeleton]

It’s something like midnight. I do not want to sleep.

(Months ago. I was dipping again, feeling happy and then falling away to misery)

I am telling teenagers about relationships. About how hormones make it hard to regard what you consider acceptable.

I am hearing him, my friend, perhaps my best friend, tell them that while it is shallow, he wants someone beautiful. I am patting his arm, telling him he can be shallow. It’s ok.

Smart, he says, musical, sharing his beliefs. I try not to think he’s describing me. “I need to stop,” he says, “before I dig myself a hole” why do you need to stop, I wonder.

I am remembering my first kiss. Freezing up, awkwardly laughing, and running away to freak out.

I am remembering the other kiss. All the kisses. There weren’t many. I didn’t like all of them.

We’ve come close, I think, many times. Leaning together in the kitchen, laughing, him leaning down and me up, our faces at times too close for comfort.

Too close for comfort because it’s been near four years since I kissed someone and when his face is that close I remember it’s not always bad. For months, years, the thought of kissing someone made me feel like I was choking. He laughs, inches from me. “You two are weirder than usual” says a voice as I try not to watch his lips.

I am looking at his eyes, his lips. I cannot help myself. It’s the same as the way I watch his back when he is working, see the muscles work, a toned down version of the part of me that wonders how it would feel to bite his ear.

To the kids I say: “You get this rush of chemicals when you kiss someone. Your brain is just neurotransmitters and hormones and like twelve brain cells and most of them are going ‘no one ever told me this would be so good’”

I shudder. Somehow, aloud, I go on “there’s a big difference between a good kiss and a bad kiss. It’s subjective of course. I don’t think you want to hear my thoughts on it. But it’s easier to remember when you’re uncomfortable that you don’t want to go too far. It’s easy to get carried away. Ground rules are important.”

I didn’t want to be in his locked bedroom, alone with him. I did not want that kiss, that felt like suffocation. I pushed him away, twice. He didn’t even notice. He thought it was good.

I look again at my best friend, my comfort. The boy who I trained myself to know it was ok to be in arms reach of boys again. He told me a few months ago he had never been kissed.

He knows about the kisses I didn’t want. I told him, crying, my head buried in his knee, nearly three years after it happened.

I know hormones make you stupid. Even when I didn’t want to be touched, kisses on my neck sent pleasure through my anxious body.

The kids go to bed. We stay a little while, me miserable, wishing I could use him as a pillow. He hugs me tightly and goes to bed. I wish the hug never ended.

[thescribblingtourist]

PEI: The Little House at 83 Reuben's Lane

There’s a small white house for sale on top of a bluff overlooking the Baltic River in Darnley, PEI. The owner is asking $249,900. Now before you plunk down a cool quarter of a million dollars, or something close to it, why don’t we go back in time…to 1956.

My mother’s cousin, Hazel Wall and her husband Reuben, bought what was then a tiny house converted from an old shed for $400. Reuben was fishing lobster and also farming on his father’s land in the Baltic at the time. He came home one day and said he had a notion to move to Darnley, and he had heard that Forbes Thompson had this small place for sale. At the time it was used by the night watchman, who kept the fires burning in the lobster factory. So the young Wall couple plunked down their $400 and went to work.

They had someone dig out the basement using a horse that pulled out dirt one slow bucket at a time. They poured a small foundation and moved into their new home in 1957.

While Reuben made lobster traps in the basement, Hazel was in the attic hammering nails into rough boards over two-by-fours to make a floor, all the while hunched over and crawling on her hands and knees. The only place she could stand up was the exact centre of the house.

The shed’s windows had been insulated with old jeans and rags, so Hazel yanked those out. She also used a fork to claw out the seaweed used to insulate the walls. Over time, it had dried out to the brittleness of potato chips. She hauled out mounds of it and tossed it over the bank. The old seaweed didn’t fall quite far enough to meet the outgoing tide, so remained there for years.

When they could afford real insulation for the attic, up went Hazel again. She remembers one day when her knee poked through the thin plywood floor, damaging their bedroom ceiling. To hide the blemish, they covered the hole with stucco. Lanterns fuelled with naptha gas provided light until electricity came a few years later.

I remember childhood visits to 83 Reuben’s Lane in the mid-1960s. We were always intrigued that they had a Radio Shack VHF radio on the shelf above their bed. They kept it on 24 hours a day to listen for fishermen who might be in trouble, weather bulletins and the occasional police radio traffic. To this day, Hazel has that same radio in her Kensington home. She says it hasn’t been turned off since the day they bought it…more than 50 years ago.

The house is just up the hill from where the old lobster plant stood, which had been owned by the McNutts of Malpeque and the Murphy family of Seaview. For a time, coal was hauled there and stored. My mother remembers working at the fish plant one summer when she was 14. Today the building is gone.

Reuben passed away in 1994 and Hazel stayed in the little house for another ten years. In 2004, a realtor suggested that she list it for the grand sum of $14,000. But no one wanted it. Not even to haul away to another property. Not even to get the acre of land and its panoramic view of the water.

So she gave the house to her family. A grand-daughter lived there for a short time. As did her son. It sold eventually, and in the years since, owners have added a door, laid new shingles, renovated the interior and built long, railed steps to both doors. It makes the 968-square foot house look much bigger than it is.

Now here we are in 2016, looking at the Internet ad for a house from our past.

The small white bungalow at 83 Reuben’s Lane – that was once an old shed, was bought for $400, whose basement was dug by horse and bucket, was insulated by old rags and seaweed, the house no one wanted – can now be yours for a paltry $249,900.

The ad describes it as ‘a unique waterfront home located on a stunning inlet in Darnley, sitting on a large 1.2 acre lot’.

Over the telephone, Hazel chuckles as she recalls the home’s humble beginnings. As she puts it, “Oh I suppose some fool with money will come along and take it.”

In 1956, to a young Island couple just starting out, it was a place to call home and start a family. And how do you put a price on that?

[m-mintyq]

stolen sweaters

pairing : Will Byers x gn!reader, no pronouns mentioned

word count : 1.09 k

summary : you stole one of Will’s sweater sometime in the summer of ‘85. you only told him some time before he was moving, but he said you could keep it. Later when we go to California you bring it with you, which leads to a bittersweet nostalgia conversation because you put it on once you all got back after the trip to Rink-O-Mania.

warnings? : just fluff & mutual pining :]. very minimal swearing

a/n : I wrote this as a shifting scenario, so there's a mention of a birthday- so just pretend your birthday is before march. you may also pretend that it's a super late gift if your birthday is after march :') plus I'm taking this as my opportunity to insert my headcanon that Will helps Joyce around the house with tasks and stuff.

this is also my first time publishing something like this so be kind lol <3

“Is that my sweater?” Will said as he walked into his bedroom, checking on you.

“Sure is…I hope you don’t mind that I kept it this long.” you said, sliding your suitcase back away and sitting to face your friend.

“No, no, not at all…More surprised that you still have it” He said sitting by his desk, fiddling with his hands to distract from the awkwardness.

It’s not that it was awkward talking to each other, it’s just that there was some kind of tension in the room making both of you a bit nervous.

“Well I can’t really just throw it away, plus it’s a really nice sweater.” You remarked. True, you couldn’t throw away a sweater that didn’t even really belong to you and you would’ve felt awful throwing it away even if it was yours. And the sweater really was nice, it was comfortable, not like those itchy Christmas sweaters your grandparents would get you, but more like the ones that were warm, comfortable, had that old knitted look & feel all without itching.

“Doesn’t smell like you anymore tho.” You half-whispered without thinking as you began to fiddle with the sleeves.

“What?”

“Uhh..It doesn’t smell like you anymore. I remember finally wearing it after you’d moved because it was too hard to even put it on once you left and noting that it smelt like you.” finally looking up from each others distractions your eyes met, both wanting to break away because you had problems making eye contact, but the want to stay in the moment just made it feel like time froze.

“You…you know what I smell like?” It would’ve sounded creepy in any other context but it was nice in this one. While thoughts of worry and wanting to go back and shut up ran through your head, all Will could think about is how his heart got warmer at the idea of you longing for him and wearing the old sweater to feel closer to him.

“It- It sounds weird and creepy I- I know but-”

“No…I, I think it’s kind of sweet.” you were kindly cut off before you could dig yourself a hole even deeper.

“Soooo…you still got some on you for the sweater?” chuckling, you were referring to the scent of the sweater, as if Will just carried around a bottle of it.

“I- what do you want me to do with it- rub it on me?” he said giggling in-between words as he got up out of the chair, going to sit on the floor opposite you.

“I don't know! Whatever works I guess…Or I could just steal a new one.” joining in the laughing, you switched into a more comfortable position since sitting on your knees was proving to not be as nice as imagined.

“mmmh…I might have a nice one somewhere-” Will responded now shuffling closer to his wardrobe, opening a half empty drawer.

“No I wasn’t actually serious- I mean I can’t take ANOTHER sweater—”

“I’m fine with giving you one—”

“No Will I can’t, I already feel bad for having kept this one.” still set on not taking any more of your ‘friends’ clothes, your tone got firmer, a bit too firm for your liking but you had a trouble regulating your tone, plus it was too late to rephrase now.

Both of you paused for a moment, the silence letting you slip into overthinking, questioning whether you said something wrong- maybe you did say it too harshly? fuck did you make it too awkward? you probably sound stupid…what if you did something? does-

“What if…youuu…gave me back the old sweater…and I give you a new one?” Will prompted, pulling out a similar style sweater. “It should be practically the same.”

Pulled from your thoughts your eyes ran over the object in his hands, Wills eyes examining your expression from your peripherals. “You sure? It was really just a silly comment you don't have to.”

“But I want to. Take it as a late birthday gift”

“But you sent me a gift—”

“Doesn't matter, take it. Besides, sweaters look good on you.” Taking the sweater into your hands and examining it, you felt a flash of heat on your face, but hoping it wasn't too noticeable you sent your friend a smile.

Pulling Will into a hug, you dropped the sweater in your lap so you have both hands free. “Thank you.” Though this made you blush even more, to your dismay, you didn't really care, more focused on your ‘friend’ at the moment.

Will on the other side, though calm on the outside, was yelling on the inside. All positive of course.

It took him by surprise when you pulled him in, him having been so focused on your expression and reaction to the ‘gift’

Both of you just kind of sat there, not wanting to let go. It was kind of nice, feeling the warmth and comfort of each other, but with more time passing the tension of awkwardness grew too much to ignore. Conveniently, both of you awkwardly parted at the same time, not really knowing what else to do other than continue to sit in silence for a moment longer.

“So uhh…”

“Yeah I’m gonna just…put this away and…”

“I..I’ll see you, in the kitchen?” Will said half-stumbling to his feet and then to the door.

“Yeah..Yeah I’ll be there in a sec.” hurrying you pulled your backpack closer to you, zipped it open & carefully put it inside, avoiding the other things already in there. Putting the bag aside again, you got to your feet and hurried after Will.

You noticed Jonathan and Argyle sitting at the table, Murray and Joyce setting the table, while Mike and Jane nowhere in sight for now. Finally your eyes caught Will, speed-walking from kitchen to dining room, carrying plates, glasses, cutlery back and forth. Didn’t he leave his room like…just a minute ago?

You slipped into a chair next to Jonathan, him shooting you a dopey smile before turning back to Argyle. Soon enough the table was filled with food, Mike and Jane sulking in their seats, Will contently sitting opposite you, and Joyce running her last task before coming to sit down.

“Is that Will’s old sweater?” she said sitting down.

“Mom—” Will spoke out of embarrassment, already begun to poke at his food.

“Uhhh- yeah, it is.” You half-willingly responded, pointing your eyes down in your plate.

“Hm…It looks nice on you.”

[silverdelirium]

I saw you open your requests yay

Can I request reader using a strap on draco

Only if your comfortable with it of course.

TOYS DON’T TALK | D.M

SUMMARY ➠ hc of punishing sub!draco after he claimed to have dominance over you in the bedroom

WARNINGS ➠ pegging, mommy kink, edging, degrading, handjob (kinda), bit of praise, light overstim

WORD COUNT ➠ 1.1k

———

i think the first time it happens its when draco claimed to dom you in a truth or dare game session.

he was aware you were there, and he still choose to lie.

the expression he made when he connected eyes with you was almost comical, it took one raise of your brows for him to be squirming in his seat, head down in shame.

you could obviously sort of comprehend where the lie rooted from; draco malfoy was never going to admit that he liked to be taken care of— much less when it came to sex.

he was definitely lucky to find someone as understanding and caring as you, plus, you enjoyed it, you craved it as much as he did. it was a win-win situation.

but at last the game finishes, and as everyone heads to their respective dormitory or corner of the common room, your panties are absolutely drenched at the thought of getting to punish draco.

his own bulge proved to you that he had been thinking about this too.

the second you stood up, draco trailed after you like a lost puppy, not wanting to upset you any further.

oof and draco is trembling in his spot when you arrive at the bedroom, door locked and silencing charm casted as you begin undressing yourself, not acknowledging the blonde in the slightest

“mommy?” were his first words since fucking theo decided to ask him the question that had him getting a certified ticket to get punished.

you stood with only your undergarments now. “get fucking undressed and stop talking”

draco swallowed thickly, peeling off layer after layer of clothing, all while feeling your piercing gaze in his now bare body

his erection stood tall, almost proud with pre-cum leaking from the slit, his tip was a pinkish red, matching the tone of the apple of his cheeks as you sat him down on the bed

“you think that was funny?” your digits wrapped around his shaft, making him inhale unsteadily. “acting like a big boy when you’re nothing but a slut who can’t even get off without my help” your hand sped up around him, eye contact still intact as his bottom lip quivered

“i’m sorry mommy! please, i didn’t mean to” he mewled, eyes rolling into the back of his head when your thumb grazed his red and pulsating tip

he was close, you could tell by the way he continuously bucked his hips up as an attempt to fuck himself in your hand.

you ended up edging him four times that night, before you even thought of fucking him.

the boy got as far as fucking into your hand like a bitch in heat, enlarged cock begging and aching for relief.

it was obvious he was going to achieve an orgasm at some point of the night. he was usually good, he deserves it; plus, he’s spoilt and you both knew that.

the tall male who was always more than pleased to throw in snarky comments at whoever crossed his path was now trembling in your bed, completely sprawled out as you brushed a few strands of hair away from his forehead that had started to damp with a thin layer of sweat

and that’s when the idea of fucking him stupid hits you.

you’ve both obviously talked about this before— establishing a safe word after discussing what type of things you would like to try out

you remembered now how with flushed cheeks and bright grey hues draco eagerly told you about pegging, confiding in you that it’s something he’s always fantasized about

lucky for him, a fairly big strap-on rested on the coffins of your drawers, a bottle of water base lubed laying next to it.

draco watched with a hazy mind and teary eyes how you waltzed to the bedside table, digging through it until a triumphant aha! puffed out of you.

his eyes widened as he realized what your plans were, yet his cock writhed and leaked with pre-cum at the mere thought

oh and you don’t even have to tell him anything because he strives to be your good boy and with a daring glare he’s on his hands and knees. for you

“good job, baby” you praised

“gonna fuck you so hard until all you can do is beg mommy for more, hm?” you cooed, planting your knees to the mattress and positioning yourself behind him, the toy right in line with his ring of muscles.

“yes mommy, want you inside me” he pleaded, a shaky moan tumbling from his mouth as you prepared him with lube.

it was utter heaven for draco as you entered him slowly, your eyes watching him like a hawk for any sense of hesitancy

but a roll of his hips backwards to try and fuck himself on the dildo was a clear sign of his contentment.

your pace was merciless from the start, leaving his brain to spiral down in a hole that was only you.

his blabbers and whimpers were pure music to your ears as you watched his arms wobble in a weak attempt to hold himself up.

“you stay fucking quiet and take it like a big boy”

he gulped harshly at your threat, eyes rolling to the back of his head as your body came forward, resting on his back as your fingertips caressed his cock.

your thrusts stayed unsympathetic, a faucet turning on in between your thighs at the sound of his strangled wails.

“you’re nothing but my little fuck toy, right?” you taunted, hand now wrapped around his shaft which twitched from time to time in your palm.

“say it!”

“i’m your— your fuck toy, mommy! nothing else” he sniffed, shutting his eyes tight, his orgasm right on the brink—

“hold it” you ordered, panting heavily and smirking sinisterly as he sobbed pleas out

a chuckle escaped you “i told you to stay quiet, toys don’t talk”

but draco could not hold on anymore, his orgasm washed over him like a thousand waves at once without warning, his thighs shook, his mouth stayed agape as you watched him with a hint of excitement and disappointment.

you still helped him ride his high out, slowing your hips as he tumbled down on the bed, limbs still spasming from the aftershocks of a mind blowing orgasm

you sat back on your heels, observing him as you sighed, reaching for your wand to summon a chair in the middle of the room

and he knew

he knew you were about to tie him down and overstimulate him until he begged you to stop.

———

🏷: @spencervera @methblinds @marrymetheonott @adrianscumslut @wh0re4blaise @turn-to-page-394-please @fredshufflepuff @youreso-golden @saggyb1lls @selenesheart @metaraxia @dracoslittlesluttyprincess @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dlmmdl @fleursbabe @riddleswh0r3crux @lolooo22 @darlingmalfoy @littlemissnoname13 @i-love-scott-mccall @underappreciated-spoon-321 @steveharringtonswhore @ildm4ev @dracoscum @riddleswh0rekrux @laceycallisto @slytherinbabess @lostaurorax @alexavolturisblog @s1ater @marauderswh0re1 @thatlaufeydottir @black-rose-29 @tattooedkermit @purpleskymalfoy @emma67 @mypainistemporary @mauvea @teenwolfbitches28 @lissa-duh @paniicing @rav3nclawwhore @fizzleberries @malfoy-girl @alohastitch0626 @caosfanblr @memorycharm @whoreforgeorgeandfred @abbott27 @elizabethrosedarling @samaraaaaa @malfoyspov @justadreamyhufflepuff @mollysolo @princess-jules47 @arisblackhole @yiamalfoy

[songbirdstyles]

i’m on fire

summary: harry can’t keep his hands to himself after getting home from filming.

warnings: breeding kink, spanking, smut, slight fluff, pregnancy mention, slight dom/sub

word count: 2.7k

song inspo.: i’m on fire - bruce springsteen, girls on film - duran duran, tango in the night - fleetwood mac

You’ve hardly glanced in Harry’s eyes as he walks into the foyer of your London apartment before you feel your back slam into the door behind you - your head thumps against the wood and a groan threatens to rip out of your throat but he steals it before you get the chance to make the noise, lips on yours and tongue stuck down your throat.

Your hands have nowhere else to go but to bury themselves in his hair, fingers curling around chocolate brown curls and tugging until you hear the soft hitch in his breath that indicates just how much your grasp affected him. And, God, it did affect him, clearly, as he pushes his hips further against yours until you can feel the thick bulge in his pelvis grinding against the softness of your inner thigh as you hike your leg up to hoist around his waist. He moves one arm from where he had been grasping your throat as if to steady him to the present and his free hand grasps the underside of your thigh, pulling it further up his abdomen until the stretch in your muscle makes you whine.

“Jesus fuck, Har -”

He shuts you up from whatever you were going to mutter as he deepens the kiss, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as his knee grinds into your cunt until you’re crying out, goosebumps overtaking every square inch of your skin even through the thick sweatshirt adorning your upper half. You hadn’t had much of anything valuable to say, anyway, but it’s the principle of his interruption that makes you grasp for his cheeks and pull his face from yours with a heaving gasp.

“What’s gotten into you, hmm?”

You’d almost be concerned about Harry’s state if you couldn’t feel him rutting his cock against your thigh - his face is red and hot, eyes half lidded and breaths panting and desperate with each sharp inhale of oxygen. Christ, he looks a sight in the best way possible, and your instinct is to snap your thighs shut at the feeling that rushes through your body when he leans in, pressing soft lips to the sweaty skin of your throat so it muffles his response. His hands find the hem of your sweatshirt (or his sweatshirt, really) and you have half a mind to raise your arms so he can pull his lips from your neck to tug the cloth off of your torso before he finds a vein in your throat with a newfound vigor, sliding his other hand up to grope at your bare tit like a teenage boy whose only just seen one for the first time.

“Jus’ wanna love on you, hmm - wanna love on m’girl, please -”

“Hmm -”

He grunts, then. Nips at a vein in your neck that pulsates beneath his lapping tongue and you can’t help but giggle, however childlike and naive the noise sounds, but it’s enough for him to drop your thigh from around your waist - grab your cheeks and spin you around, pushing you backwards and backwards until your feet hardly feel like they’re moving, like you’re floating through the entryway of your apartment until you reach the kitchen. Though Harry loves fucking you every which way in your bed, huge and comfortable and soft, there’s something primal about pushing you against the kitchen table and ripping down your flannel sweatpants and burying himself into your heat that you know he secretly prefers over the sacred oasis of your bedroom.

Your lower back hits the edge of the island but it doesn’t stay there long before he turns you around, pushing the front of your body against the island until your body has folded in half to bend over the slab of marble, cold against your bare tits and stomach. Your boyfriend reaches around to the front of your sweatpants, then, arms wrapped around your thighs to shakily untie the knot that you had carefully tied in the strings of your pajama pants - his chest rises and falls against your back, hips still pushing into yours over and over and you jut your ass out to meet the grind of his cock against the clothed globes of your ass.

“Tied this thing fuckin’ tight, didn’t you?”

“Didn’t think you’d try to rip them off like an animal,” you retort, lifting your hips from where they’re firmly pressed to the edge of the island once Harry has successfully untied the knot, tugging your pants down the slope of your ass until they unceremoniously drop to a puddle at your feet, and you impatiently kick them off as Harry snaps the waistband of your panties just to hear you squeal. “Come on, Har - know you’re impatient -”

“Mmm.”

His finger slide beneath your panties, knuckle dragging through your slit that’s positively dripping with your slick, and you hear his low moan at how ready you are for him but the truth is you’ve been fucking dripping since he sent you a selfie of him in his makeup chair on set two days prior, hair messy and eyebrow arched, and it hadn’t even been a serious selfie but it still made your clit throb when you saw it. He’d been gone for nearly two weeks for filming when you’d gone a full year of almost never being apart and, fuck. Seeing him like that did things to you.

Harry’s yours, god fucking dammit. The thought makes you spread your thighs more for him as he dips his finger into your waiting hole, curling them up once just to watch how your back arches, how you moan as though you’d been coded to do so. It’s a game he likes to play, testing you, seeing just how needy you are for him even if all he wants to do is bury himself inside of you and fuck you until tears streak your cheeks and you’re begging him to cum.

No - no, he does want that, you know that. Wants it so bad it makes his knees weak, makes his stomach flip and turn, but he wants to watch you fall apart more than anything. Needs to know you want this just as much as he does, if not more, and if he were truly dedicated tonight he’d finger you until you came at least twice.

Neither of you can wait for that.

“Jesus fuck,” he breathes, voice raspy and full of sex and wanting and you could nearly sob as you feel him finally start to tug them hem of his joggers and boxers over his cock. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

But - but -

“Wait.”

He pauses. The head of his cock pokes at your ass in a way that would be funny if the revelation you’d just been hit with hadn’t hit you yet but it has, and you turn your head to press your cheek against the marble.

“Wha’?”

“I got my birth control thing out yesterday, the one in my arm. Remember - I told you I have to get it replaced. M’getting it tomorrow.”

There’s a pause in the kitchen, then, that hangs heavy over the both of you as you hear Harry’s shaky breathing behind you. And then -

“Did you just get harder?”

Harry exhales and even without seeing him you can picture the smile on his face as he presses his hips further into yours - “M’sorry - s’hot, babe.”

“Me not being on birth control is hot?”

“Yes,” and as if for extra reassurance of just what he means, Harry pushes his cock between your thighs until it’s slotted in your slit, head nudging your clit and making your legs quiver and shake as the stimulation rolls over you, eyes rolling back and head feeling fuzzy. “Makes me wanna fuck you so bad.”

There’s a quick consideration, you suppose - of the possibility of getting pregnant and the fact that you know there’s probably not even a single condom in your apartment for him to quickly put on, and even if there was the moment would die - and, come on, you’ve been together for almost 4 years and you’ve talked about kids in passing. If it happens it happens - that’s been your philosophy on it with him.

If it happens, it happens.

And it wouldn’t be the worst thing. Harry loves kids and you love kids and more than that, you love each other like the world depends on it - could never picture yourself living life without him at this point, and more than that, there is something hot about imagining him fucking you completely raw.

“Fuck, Har,” you moan, feeling your clit spasm as you grasp the edge of the counter. “I don’t care. Fuck me, pl -”

The final word doesn’t make it out of your mouth before Harry’s slamming himself inside of you and there’s no slow or sweet - it’s raw and unfiltered, giving you half a moment to adjust to his size after two full weeks without his cock, and it’s huge, feels like it’s splitting you open, like you’re back to the first time he’d ever fucked you and you’d had the fleeting question of whether it would even fit. It did fit, though, over and over and over, and yet the first stroke always makes you gasp.

Or scream.

“Oh, shit!” your resounding moan is shrill and punctuated by your legs just about giving up, knees collapsing until the only thing holding you up is Harry’s cock slamming into your cunt over and over, his nails digging into your bare shoulder blade before scratching up to tug at your hair. Forms it into a loose ponytail to tug at your hair like a damn whip, forcing your lazed face off of the marble until you’re staring into the darkened kitchen before you with blurry, watering eyes and a cunt that already feels fucked sore from just a few thrusts.

“Oh - god,” and Harry’s voice shakes and leaks with arousal, breath picking up as he pistons into you, cock stroking spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed before him, before he had fucked you slow and sweet and made you oh so aware of every sweet spot your cunt was filled with. God, he’s good at it, at a fast unforgiving pace that makes your head spin and your throat go raw with sobs, and you slam your palm against the island with a moan. “So fuckin’ tight f’me - made for me, right?”

You don’t respond, words feeling snatched from your tongue with every stroke of his dick into your pussy, milking every drop of arousal for all that it’s worth.

“This - this fuckin’ pussy - s’mine, isn’t it?” And when his seemingly rhetorical question goes unanswered there’s a sharp slap to the bottom of your ass that makes you shout, throat aching with the noise. “Whose fuckin’ pussy -”

“Yours!” It’s a near shriek that’s fucked out of you, and there’s another slap to your ass as you babble, “yours, Harry, yours - belongs to you -”

“Sure fuckin’ does,” and then he pulls out and you want to shout, to slam your head into the island because surely there’s nothing worse than the emptiness that fills you in the worst way possible, but just as you begin to whimper Harry is gripping your thigh, grasp tight enough that you’ll surely see bruises come morning, and he hikes your leg up over the edge of the island, exposing your near-abused pussy to him fully.

The tip of his cock runs along your slit, spreading your slickness around your folds and before you can plead with him to stop teasing he pushes back in, cock drawing along your velvet walls and eliciting a raspy moan that feels nearly involuntary at this point. His grasp on your hair is released and you nearly drop your head onto the island in surprise but then he’s leaning down, clothed chest pressed to your sweaty back, and his forearms snake beneath your neck until he’s nearly caging your neck in his arms, lips pressed to the back of your neck.

His hips pound against your ass, the sound of skin slapping skin nearly overpowering your choked moans and yet it doesn’t quite manage to - you’re sure your downstairs neighbors must think you’re being murdered with the volume of your sobs, or perhaps they’re used to hearing you get fucked within an inch of your life just about every night. Harry going away for filming surely must have been their own vacation from being awoken every night to yours and his pathetic moans mingled together -

But their vacation is over, goddammit.

“Harry, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, voice staccato and quiet, and his lips close around the back of your neck until you can feel him suckling at the skin, desperate to watch your skin erupt in hickeys from his work. “Please don’t - don’t stop -”

“Never gonna stop, baby,” is your boyfriend’s response, nearly cruel with how nonchalant he sounds, and his pace picks up where he’s sliding in and out of you with squelching wet sounds. “Cum for me - cum f’me and m’gonna blow it, baby, blow m’fuckin’ load into your cunt -”

You whimper, making a halfhearted attempt to reach behind you and wind your arm around Harry’s neck but you can’t muster up enough strength, feeling the orgasm building in your abdomen build and build like a rubber band about to snap. It’s a feeling that’s all too familiar when you’re with him, like you’re always one stolen smirk away from straddling him in front of everyone and having your way with him -

“M’gonna cum in you, baby,” Harry whispers, voice low and hot against your ear, words being shot directly into your eardrum and sending a chill up your spine that has nothing to do with the chilled temperature of the kitchen. “Gonna knock you up, right? S’what you want?”

“Yes - yes -”

“Y’want me to fill you with my cum, hmm? Get you fuckin’ pregnant? All round w’my fuckin’ kid, fill you ‘till you’re dripping -”

“Oh, God, Harry!”

“Cum on m’fucking cock. Wanna feel y’cum around me ‘fore I blow it, sweetie -” It’s all the encouragement you need, a moan mixed with a sob tearing out of your throat as you throw your head back, body nearly convulsing as your orgasm racks through you like a tsunami on shore - and it’s everything, like he’s set you aflame and left you to deal with the inferno, and not for the first time you think about how you’re fucking made for him, for this, cumming harder than you’ve ever cum in your life, the rubbr band snapping and sending waves of pleasure through you -

“Fuck!”

Your orgasm hasn’t even come close to ending when Harry’s hips slam firm against yours, pressed taut against your ass and you feel him, feel every curve and vein of his cock against your walls and your mind goes blank as he cums, warm spurts filling you every which way and it only makes it better when he moves one of his arms from beneath your neck, snaking his hand underneath your body so he can shakily rub three fingers against your clit, milking your orgasm for all that it’s worth. You clamp down on him, every sensation too much and yet not enough in the best way possible, and you swear you see nothing but stars.

There’s a beat of silence, filled only with your heaving breaths and his soft gasps for air mixing with each other in the thick, suddenly humid air of the kitchen. Harry’s chest is sweaty against your back even through his shirt, lips still pressing warm, wet kisses to the back of your neck just underneath your hairline.

“Fuck,” you breathe, soreness already settling in your throat as you swallow, somewhat regretting your vehement moans and cries and shouts but somehow not at all - “Should probably go shower.”

“Not yet.” “Not yet -?”

“Stay here for a few minutes,” your boyfriend murmurs against your damp, sweaty skin, tongue poking out to lick a thin stripe from your collarbone up to the side of your throat, lips pressing just underneath your ear. “Gotta make sure it works. Gotta make sure you’re not leaving this fuckin’ kitchen without m’fuckin’ kid inside you, baby.”

~~

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[mackenzielovee]

blurb 3 & 4 with rafe? maybe angsty but with a fluffy ending :) 💕

a/n: helloooo my love. I made this a little longer than I hoped but i hope you love it anyway. thank you for the request! <3

warnings: swearing, blood

my writing

none of your business - rafe cameron

Two o'clock in the morning.

That's what time Rafe Cameron decides to beat on the front door of the guest house, knowing he's going to wake you but not necessarily caring. You rub the sleep from your eyes and curse the floor for being so cold under your bare feet as you yank the door open, ready to kill whoever stood on the other end.

"Rafe," you groan when you see him. He notes your expression change when you take in his appearance.

His eyes are red all around, one of them starting to bruise underneath. You can see lines from tears that have since dried resting on his cheeks, which are now mixed with the blood seeping from the cuts on his face. Your eyes trail down his body to his ripped shirt and his bloody knuckles, making you sigh loudly. Your shoulders relax from their tense position as you know you can't be mad at him anymore.

"Are you gonna let me in, or?" he questions.

You've been staying with the Cameron's for a while now.  Since you've moved onto the property, you and Rafe haven't exactly been getting along. Which only adds to you confusion as to why he's come to you.

You sigh and hold the door open wider for him to enter, not necessarily inviting him inside. You watch as he looks at you emotionless, only for a second, before entering.

"Why are you here?" you ask as you follow him to the kitchen.

He starts opening and closing random cabinets, clearly not finding whatever it is he's looking for. He completely ignores you, which only adds to your annoyance.

"Rafe?" you grumble, staring at him so intently you could probably burn a hole in the side of his head.

He barely glances over at you, looking at you more as if you're a nuisance than a help.

"Do you not have, like, band-aids and shit?" he asks, digging through one of the drawers and then slamming it shut when it doesn't contain what he wants.

"In the bathroom."

He stands up straight and rolls his eyes, then finally looks over at you. He notes the sleepy look in your eyes and how cute you look in your little matching pajama set, paying extra attention to your little shorts lingering a little too high on your legs.

"Can you help me?" he asks, his voice a little softer than before.

You nod, surprised at his question, then point to your bathroom as if he doesn't know where it is. He walks in front of you and enters the bathroom first, pulling off his ripped and bloody shirt the second he enters. He throws it on the floor, not particularly caring where it lands. You sigh and he smirks, knowing he's achieved his goal of annoying the shit out of you every chance he gets.

You pull out your first-aid kit, ready to fix him up and stop the bleeding from his knuckles. You wet a washcloth and reach out, waiting on him to give you his hand.

"Sorry about the blood," he smirks as he lightly places his hand in yours.

You roll your eyes, "Consider this my rent payment for the month."

"Nah," he shakes his head.

"What even happened?" you ask, focusing on cleaning and not bothering to look up at him.

"None of your fucking business."

You sigh, reaching down and dabbing rubbing alcohol on your washcloth. You don't bother to warn Rafe before you press it to his open wounds on his knuckles.

"Fuck!" he swears, yanking his hand away, "Jesus."

"Sorry," you shrug absentmindedly.

You pretend not to notice his little sarcastic laugh as he figures out that you did it on purpose, then ignore the way he slaps his hand back in yours. You start cleaning again, but decide to be more gentle this time. Rafe takes a small step toward you, then another, making you look up at him. The look in his eyes is different - almost like he's up to something.

"You think that's funny?" he whispers, leaning his head down so he's level with you.

"I didn't mean to," you swallow, completely intoxicated with his scent as it wafts over you.

He brings his good hand up to tip your chin so you're looking up at him now. You've never found Rafe attractive, but something about how his voice got low and raspy, the way he smells, and the fact that you're exhausted have you completely wrapped around his finger.

"Mhm," he hums, smirking slightly, "How about.."

He trails off, bringing his head back down to you again. Just as your lips are about to touch, he speaks again.

"How about you fucking clean me up, or I'll make sure you're out of here permanently by tomorrow."

You pull away from him quickly, ducking your head to hide your rosy cheeks from him. He laughs, but can't help but feel bad when he sees how embarrassed you are. He sets his other hand on the counter, then lifts it up again, leaving blood on your white countertops.

"You're getting blood everywhere," you say quietly, still trying to shake off what had just happened.

"I said I was fucking sorry, sweetheart," his voice is raspy again, making you weak at the knees.

You finish cleaning him up in silence, trying to pretend like he hadn't really gotten to you. By the end of it, Rafe really feels guilty, but he's not sure how to fix it. He really had no idea you'd even let him go that far.

"There," you say when you're done, "You know the way out."

You start to leave the bathroom, gasping when Rafe grabs onto your wrist and spins you back around to face him. His expression holds the same one it did when he asked you to help him clean up - soft and sweet.

"Hey," he says quietly, "I'm sorry about before. I was just messing with you."

You shrug, pretending like it didn't bother you. He groans internally, mad that you're making him work for it.

"Do you think," he pauses, slowly bringing his hand down to your own, "I could stay the night? Dad will kick my ass if he sees."

You want to point out that his wounds won't heal overnight, but you also don't really want him to leave. Something about him staying the night excites you.

"Couch is free," you shrug again.

He tugs you even closer to him, using his had hand to reach up and stroke the skin on your cheek. You stop breathing, you swear you do, as he touches you. His skin feels hot against your own.

"I don't sleep on couches," he says quietly, leaning down and pressing his lips to your jaw.

You moan lightly at the feeling, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Rafe."

"Hmm?"

"Rafe."

"What, princess?" he laughs lightly as he pulls his lips off you to see what you need.

"What are you doing?" you finally ask, still feeling like you're on fire.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks, and when you just stare, he continues, "I'm just trying to get into your bed."

Your heart sinks as you sigh and try to pull out of his grip. He laughs lightly, tightening around your hand.

"No. No, baby. I'm joking. I'm just kidding."

You huff and turn back to him, but refuse to look him in the eye. You really can't tell with him anymore.

"Honestly?" he says after a minute, his voice soft once again, "I really just want to cuddle with you."

You finally allow yourself to look up at him, trying to determine if he's serious. He looks different, more vulnerable than usual. He can tell by the look on your face that you really don't want to play games with him anymore, so to show you he's serious, he leans down and presses his lips to yours.

He tastes salty, probably a result of the tears that fell down his face earlier. You sink into the kiss and swear you could do it forever just as he pulls away.

"Please?"

"Yeah, okay," you nod, watching him smile victoriously.

He leads you to your bedroom, the one you had been alone in only half an hour ago, and only releases your hand to remove his jeans. He throws them on the floor and crawls under your covers, holding his arms open for you.

You sink in beside him and you two quickly mold into one another. The fit is perfect. His arm around you, your head on his chest, other hand stroking gently through your hair.

"I've been thinking about this for a while," he admits.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he says, then after a minute, "Stay here as long as you want. It's nice having you here."

You smile against his chest. After a few minutes, you feel him stop the stroking of your hair, then soft snores coming from above you. You fall asleep only a few minutes after him, way more content with him than you had been sleeping alone.

blurb list here! please send requests to my ask box!

[ppersonna]

good for me | ksj - m

“ stay on the ground until your knees hurt. no more praying baby, imma be your preacher ” - church, chase atlantic

✹ summary- You’ve forgotten something very important and your husband, Seokjin, makes sure you never forget it again.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim seokjin x reader

✹ word count- 2.3k

✹ genre- smut, pwp, no plot, you’d have to DIG for a plot, like............. thats all there is to it. there is nothing else.

✹ warnings- hard dom!seokjin, oral sex (m receiving), spanking, degredation, dirty talk, shower sex, established relationship, 

✹ a/n- this has been in the drafts for some time. i debated posting it because it literally has no substance LMAOOOOO but hey fuck it. here’s some hard dom jin because 🥵 i needed it. thank u to @chimoona​ for her help and for my ladies @xjoonchildx​ @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ always giving me the hype.

The best part of exercising is the shower afterwards. 

Sure, you enjoy the benefits of cardio and weight training, but nothing ever feels as good as a hot steamy shower after you’re drenched in sweat.  

It’s what you’re looking forward to as you climb out of your car and trudge your weary body to the front door. 

It’s late in the evening now—Seokjin’s car is in the driveway next to yours, and you figure he must have returned home sometime while you were gone. You open the door and call out to your husband, alerting him to your return as you drop your keys onto the entryway table and kick off your gym shoes. 

It’s quiet in the house, not a single reply from Seokjin, but you quickly dismiss it. He’s likely busy, or stepped outside to the backyard for a phone call. 

It’s no matter. All you can think about is turning on the shower and stepping into the spray and allowing the shower to soothe away tension and wash away the slick. 

Your body is sticky with sweat and the bra and legging combo you wore is an unattractive darker color from the moisture.  You’re peeling off the clothes as you make your way upstairs towards your shared bedroom.  The clothes land somewhere near the laundry basket—you don’t care where—and you’re completely naked by the time your feet touch the marble of the bathroom floor. 

The muscles in your body relax the instant you turn the knobs of the shower to hot, as hot as you can make it. It takes a moment to warm up, and you generously use the time to roll out your sore muscles and gaze at your figure in the mirror. 

There are still marks on your body from your last playtime with Jin. 

Some nights, you have sex with him like a normal, married couple. Missionary, soft and gentle, plenty of emotion and sweet whispered words. 

Other nights, however, you willingly allow the sadist in him to gratify the masochist in you. He takes control, demands submission, and you freely give. 

Your time with your husband last night was the latter. He bent you over the bed and paddled your ass until you cried, and your pussy drooled onto the floor below you. He was relentless, powerful, and it made you putty in his hands. There was no one else on the earth you trusted more than Seokjin. You knew he would never intentionally hurt you in a way that didn’t bring you pleasure. And it made your desire for him burn even brighter. 

The bathroom is steamy by the time you’ve finished checking out the delicious marks your husband left on you, and you slip into the shower with a grateful sigh.  The pressure feels incredible on your muscles and you allow your eyes to close as you bask in the steam and heat. 

The cascading water and intoxicating heat clouds your mind and you never notice the bathroom door open or the sound of clothing being removed. You’re so distracted that you never hear the glass door of the shower open. 

And it’s too late now. 

You’re instantly being pressed up against the cold tile of the bathroom, a hot and hard body behind you making you squeak in surprise. 

Jin has joined you in the shower, and he’s pressed your chest to the cool wall and tangles his hands in your hair. 

“Look what we have here,” he tuts. “Nice to see you showed up.”

You furrow your brow, confused on what he’s talking about. He plays with your hair as he continues to hold you against the wall, cheek turned and flat against the tile. 

“Jin, wha—,” he cuts you off before you can finish. 

“That’s not my name, baby doll.” 

His voice is distinct from his usual.

This one radiates power. It oozes danger. And your cunt is already squeezing around nothing at the sound. 

“S-sir,” you gasp. Your breathing is heavy, body overcome with desire. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises. He lets a free hand travel down your wet back towards your ass, where he cups a cheek in his hand delicately. 

“Now, can my good girl tell me what she did wrong today?” 

His hands rub the globe gently, and you shiver. His hands feel so strong, so ready to deliver the firm swats or gentle caresses you crave the most. 

You’re racking your rattled brain as hard as you can, desperate to figure out what you’ve done wrong. 

“I—I can’t remember,” you murmur. 

He tsks, upset at your answer. 

“You better start remembering, little one.”  

His hand rubs at the skin of your ass once more, before he’s lifting his hand and bringing it back down onto your cheeks with a crack. Your body jolts in reply and the stinging of your buttocks travels straight to your core. A low whimper leaves your lips—a sound of brewing desire more than despair. 

“Don’t you want to be my good girl?” He asks as he rubs the reddening mark. “Tell me what you’ve done wrong and you won’t be punished.” 

You puff out a breath in frustration, unable to remember what you’ve done. 

Jin notices and delivers another slap to your ass, this time on the opposite cheek, and you yelp. 

“I-I,” you stutter, brain spinning desperately to remember what it is you’ve missed.  

“If you’ve forgotten how to use your voice, then please, let’s put that mouth to use.”

He turns your body, your back now pressed against the tile where your tits once were. Your eyes widen. He looks like a fucking god. He’s wet and dripping from the spray of the shower, and his eyes burn like coals, stoked by his desire for you. He steps back from you, allows you to drink in his image pridefully. 

His cock is rock hard, straining and thick against his abdomen. He doesn’t bother to touch it, doesn’t stroke or grasp it. His eyes are drilling holes into your own with intensity and you can feel your submissive nature begging you to kneel. It’s what he wants.

He knows you—knows you better than you likely know yourself.  You’re lowering on to your knees with no thought, eyes fixated on his like he likes. 

“No hands,” he speaks gently. “Dirty fucking whores don’t get to use their hands.”

His powerful hands grip your damp hair, gathering a bunch and bringing your face to the tip of his cock.

“You wanna suck daddy’s cock?” He asks, tone almost teasing. He rubs the head against your plump lips, allowing them to collect the generous pre-cum at the tip.  

You nod, big simpering eyes peering up at him.

“Please, daddy,” you beg. “Let me suck your cock.”

He rubs your lips a few moments more, before grasping your jaw in his hands and prying your mouth open.

“Suck.”

His hips thrust forward and suddenly your mouth fills with his length.  You almost gag, almost, but you squeeze your fists tight and will it away. Jin smirks as he sees the tears build in your eyes from the pressure and continues forward until his cock fills your entire throat.

“Oh fuck,” he sighs. “Look at you take it all like a practiced whore.”

He pulls out slowly, torturously calculated and measured, before he’s slamming his length back into your throat and starting a pace.

Your mouth becomes a simple vessel for him and his pleasure. You tuck your teeth in as best as you can as he fucks your throat, cheeks hollowing as you attempt to tighten the space in your mouth, and lave your tongue over any inch of his cock you can find.  

He keeps his hand on your head, grip tightening steadily on your hair.  

“Shit,” he puffs a breath. “Best fucking cocksleeve.”

His head tips back as he enjoys the slurping, sloppy sounds your mouth is making. Saliva is sliding down the corners of your mouth where it gathers and drips to the wet marble floor below.  

Jin delights in the way you submit to him. He feels powerful, feels like a god. He loves you, every single aspect of you in the bedroom and outside of it. And he absolutely loves it when you’re on your knees, begging like a good girl. So good for him, even when you fuck up.

He peers back down at you, pushing more hair out of your face tenderly while he fucks your willing mouth.

“Mm, this is where you belong, isn’t it? This is what this hot little mouth is meant for.”

He punctuates his sentences with quicker, rougher snaps of his hips that force his cock to the very back of your throat. Your eyes spill over with tears and your throat tightens in reaction, squeezing the head of Jin’s cock.

“Ah, fuck yes, choke on it.”

He’s absolutely enamored by the way you work harder, mouth bobbing along with his thrusts.  You get off on this just as much as he does—you love to be degraded and treated like a whore in the bedroom while he treats you like the queen you are outside of it.

His queen, bowing in front of him to give him pleasure through her submission.

It’s one of the many reasons he loves you so fucking much.

He can feel his stomach tightening, core clenching as his orgasm builds. Simply watching your tears, mixed with the shower water slip down your face has his balls and heart yearning.

“You ready to swallow my cum, doll?” He asks, fully knowing the answer.  

Your impossibly beautiful and big eyes widen even further and Jin stifles a groan at the sight of you, the definition of submission personified. 

“Mm, I know you are.” He pumps harder into your gaping mouth, groaning at how wet and hot it is despite your aching jaw. “You love swallowing cum. It’s your favorite meal of the day.”

He’s gritting his teeth as his orgasm becomes more and more apparent and you bob your head earnestly to bring him off. You easily accommodate him without your hands, and he swells with pride at how good you are for him.

“That’s my perfect little slut,” he grits. He’s staving off the orgasm as long as he can, wants to soak in every moment of you gagging on his length. 

Your hand seeks purchase on Jin’s thick thighs, holding on for balance as your head bobs quickly and your throat works overtime to accommodate his length. Another quick glance up to him is all it takes for him to fall to pieces. He can never resist the way you look at him with a mouth full of cock.

His cock pulses with each groan and you whine cutely as he fills your mouth with his seed. You slow your movements and stay put, staring at him as his cock twitches.

He gently pulls his spent cock from your lips, panting as he attempts to right himself.

“Open up,” he demands in a gentle voice.

You’re compliant—mouth opening to display Seokjin’s thick cum pooled on your tongue. It makes him grin. 

“Nasty,” he winks. “Swallow, my love.” 

He rests a hand on your throat, wants to feel as you swallow his seed down. It makes his cock twitch back to life, ready to go again and again. It doesn’t matter how long he’s been married to you—he’ll always find the stamina for a round two.

“Are you ready to discuss what happened today?”

Jin holds out his hand for you, which you take gratefully to stand up inside the shower.

“Yes, please.”

Jin wraps his arms around you and pulls you under the spray of the shower. He places gentle and soft kisses up and down your neck as his hands slither up and down your wet body.

“What’s the date today?” He whispers as he kisses the shell of your ear.

“It’s the eighth--,” you start, before your eyes wide. “Oh, my god.”

He smiles and pulls back to look into your eyes.

“It is the eighth, yes, and?”

“It’s our wedding anniversary.”

Your heart sinks. In the hustle and bustle of the day, it slipped from your mind of your anniversary. He had planned an entire evening to spend together, and you had forgotten all about it, abandoned the plans for a night at the gym.

“Oh, my god, Jin, I am so sorry. I totally forgot.”

Jin kisses at your face, cupping your cheeks with his hands.

“Baby, it's okay,” he assures as he kisses your shower-slick lips. “I’m not mad. The steaks are a little cold, but…”

You cling harder to your husband. 

“God, I’m an idiot. I owe you!”

He chuckles in your ear as he wraps his arms tight around you. Anniversary or not, Seokjin is in love with you. And he can forgive a simple mistake. Especially when you make up for it so sweetly.

“You’re not an idiot, baby. You can show me how sorry you are tonight when you’re tied up to the bed and taking my cock, hm?”

You lick your lips, already excited for the delicious punishments Jin must have planned for you.

“I love you,” you murmur, standing on tip-toes to press another kiss to his full lips.

“Mmm, and I love you,” he replies. “And you’re going to be good for me tonight, aren’t you baby?”

Jin is turning off the shower as you nod.

He gathers a towel and steps out, drying every inch of your body before guiding you to the bedroom.

“Show me.”

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.