#I still haven't finished the rest of this

[alohajix]

𝐍𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤

Description: friends don’t kiss like that… and they definitely don’t spend the night tangled up in each other, learning what it sounds like when years of tension finally snap. But here you are. In his bed. Breathless. Wrecked. His hands shaking on your skin like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. And you both know—there’s no going back now.

Warnings: smut, pining, begging, creampie mention, friends to lovers, feelings finally surfacing.

Word count: 6,090.

author note: hopefully you’ll love this one; I had a writer’s block trying to finish this one up 🥺

Main Masterlist

Marked by Midnight’s Masterlist

***

It's the same Friday night ritual you've fallen into for years now—predictable in a way that should feel boring by now, but somehow never does. You don't remember when exactly it became your thing, but you know it started sometime after his last relationship went up in flames. Somewhere between his dry, sarcastic text—"bring snacks or don't bother showing up"—and the way he always leaves the door unlocked when he knows it's you coming over. You don't knock anymore. Haven't in ages. You just toe off your shoes by muscle memory, drop your bag on the little hook by the door he hung there for you a year ago, and slip into your usual spot on his couch like it's second nature. It is, really.

Tonight's no different. The air smells like leftover pizza and the two cheap beers you grabbed from his fridge on your way in. You're half-curled under one of his worn-out throw blankets, your legs stretched long across the couch, your bare feet pressing into his thigh like they always do. He doesn't even flinch when you do it anymore. Just rests his warm palm on your shin absentmindedly like it's the most natural thing in the world. It's reckless, really, how easy this all is. How dangerous it feels sometimes when he doesn't pull away.

The TV's playing something you've both seen a thousand times—something neither of you are really paying attention to. The real entertainment, like always, is the stupid conversation unraveling between sips of cheap beer and leftover takeout. He makes a joke about your taste in men, you roll your eyes and throw one right back at him. The back-and-forth feels sharper tonight though, like you're both playing closer to some invisible line neither of you have dared to cross. Not really.

You don't know what makes you say it. Maybe it's the second beer loosening your tongue, or maybe it's the way his laugh curls in your stomach when you throw your head back against the cushion and groan dramatically. You mock the high-pitched whine one of his exes once made you promise not to bring up again. You pitch your voice higher on purpose, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead in the most ridiculous overacting you can manage.

"Oh, Harry... oh my God... you're so—so loud—" you gasp, drawing the word out, clutching your chest like you're seconds away from fainting.

You expect him to laugh. That's how it always goes. You take the piss, he rolls his eyes, throws something back, and you both move on. But tonight... tonight he doesn't laugh.

Instead, he goes still. His palm on your shin tightens just a little—barely noticeable, really, if you weren't suddenly hyperaware of every inch of his skin touching yours.

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing, and for the first time all night, you swear the air between you crackles like something you shouldn't touch.

"You really wanna keep pushing, sweetheart?"

The words come out low. Thicker. Not playful like they should be.

And your mouth goes dry.

Because that's not the kind of thing he says to you. Not like that.

You blink, heart stuttering, trying to laugh it off, but it comes out wrong—too breathless, too tight. "What? I'm kidding. Relax."

But he doesn't.

He leans back a little, his arm curling casually along the back of the sofa like he's suddenly aware of how close you are, how easy it would be to pull you closer. His jaw flexes as he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, like he's thinking too hard about something he shouldn't say.

And then he does.

"Maybe you should find out for yourself before you start laughing."

You freeze.

So does he.

The silence that falls between you isn't the usual kind—the one you fill with easy shrugs or dumb jokes. This one feels loaded. Heavy. Like you've both been balancing on this stupid little edge for so long you didn't even realize how close you'd gotten until you both looked down.

He swallows hard, flicking his gaze to your mouth and back up again so fast you almost think you imagined it.

You could laugh. You should laugh. That's how you survive this. You let it roll off your back, you change the subject, you make another joke and pretend you didn't hear it like that.

But you did. God, you did.

And something in your stomach twists.

Your voice comes out quieter than you mean for it to. Barely above a whisper. "What if I did?"

Harry's breath catches. You feel it more than hear it—right there where his palm is still pressed to your leg, fingers curling in slow motion like he's grounding himself. His mouth opens and closes again, like he's trying to figure out if you're fucking with him, if this is just another game.

You're not sure what kind of answer you're expecting—some dumb, cocky retort, maybe, or worse, a nervous laugh to remind you this is all one big misunderstanding. But when he finally speaks, it's nothing like that.

"Then you're gonna have to come over here and show me."

It knocks the air clean out of your lungs.

Because that's not a dare. Not a joke. Not something he can walk back if you say yes.

His hand slides a little higher on your shin, thumb dragging slow and steady like he's making sure you feel it. His gaze doesn't drop this time. Doesn't waver.

"C'mon, love. What's stoppin' you?"

You've never moved so slowly in your life. Shifting your weight, setting your half-finished beer down on the coffee table like you're moving underwater. Your heart's thundering so hard you're half-convinced he can hear it. You swing one leg over his lap, knees sinking into the sofa on either side of his hips until you're straddling him, palms braced on his chest to steady yourself.

And he's just... looking at you. Like you're the fucking answer to a question he didn't know he was allowed to ask.

"Hi," you whisper, suddenly breathless, nerves crashing over you in one dizzy wave.

The corner of his mouth twitches like he wants to laugh, but he doesn't. His hands find your waist, curling slow and careful, as if he's terrified you'll shift back and realize this is a mistake.

"Hey."

It's the softest thing you've ever heard from him. No edge, no teasing, just quiet and wrecked and right there between you like you've already passed the point of no return.

His thumb drags along your waist, and you swear you feel his hands tremble just a little.

"You gonna kiss me or what?" he whispers, voice cracking on the last word like it's killing him to hold back.

There's a second—just one—where the fear kicks in. Not the bad kind, not really. It's more the holy-shit-what-are-we-doing kind, the one that flickers right behind your ribs like a warning bell that's come a little too late. Because this is Harry. Your Harry. The one who steals your fries without asking and makes you playlists when you're having a bad day. The one who's held your hair back when you've had too much to drink, who's let you crash in his bed more times than you can count without ever once making it weird. He's always been safe. Uncomplicated. Yours in every way that didn't require you to risk everything by leaning in and closing the gap.

But now? Now his breath fans across your cheek, his hands tense on your waist like he's waiting for you to change your mind, and you know there's no coming back from this if you do it. No pressing rewind. No laugh-it-off in the morning.

And still—you lean in.

You don't even really kiss him at first. It's slower than that. Softer. Like you're both testing the weight of the moment, hovering close enough that you could pull back if you had to. You feel his breath catch when your nose brushes his, feel the tiniest tremor run through him when your fingers curl tighter in the worn fabric of his t-shirt. His lashes flutter against your cheekbone when you tilt your head, nudging your mouth toward his. And just when you start to wonder if he's going to make you do all of it—if he's going to sit there and let you chase the whole thing all the way down—he meets you halfway.

It starts careful. Almost clumsy with how long you've both tiptoed around this. His lips part slow, brushing yours once, twice, barely there. You almost pull back to say something stupid like "was that okay?" but then—God—he makes that sound.

Low in his throat, wrecked and quiet and so fucking real it short-circuits every rational thought you have left.

You melt.

The second time you kiss him, it isn't careful at all. You tilt your head, fingers sliding up into his curls like they've always wanted to, pulling him closer, chasing that sound like it's oxygen. He groans again, louder this time, and you feel him sink under you like his whole body's giving out.

"Fuck," he breathes, muffled between kisses, hands flexing tighter on your waist. "Fuck, baby, you're gonna ruin me."

The word baby snaps something loose in your chest, like you've just unlocked a part of him you never knew you were allowed to touch.

Your breath stumbles out in a shaky laugh, your lips brushing his as you gasp, "You really are loud."

He freezes for half a second like he's about to pull back, but you barely give him the chance. You roll your hips over his, testing the friction, chasing the heat, and it punches another groan right out of him—louder, needier this time.

"Yeah?" he pants, teeth scraping your jaw as he pulls you closer, rougher, like he's trying to fuse you to him. "You like that? Huh? Wanna keep mocking me, baby? Gonna let you hear it all fuckin' night if you let me."

You suck in a sharp breath, fingers tightening in his hair.

And God, you should stop. You should slow down, give yourself half a second to think this through, to figure out what the hell this means. But his mouth finds that spot under your ear that makes your whole body jolt, and suddenly you don't care about what tomorrow's going to feel like.

You rock against him again, chasing the pressure, the heat curling low in your belly. He hisses, dragging his hands up under your t-shirt like he's starving to touch you.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, voice cracking like he already knows you won't. "Tell me right fuckin' now if this isn't what you want."

But you don't. You can't. Not when you're already dizzy with it. Not when you've wanted this longer than you've let yourself admit.

So instead, you lean in again, brushing your mouth against his ear until you feel him shudder under you.

"I don't want you to stop."

His breath hitches, hands curling tighter like he's barely holding himself back.

"You sure?" he rasps, nose brushing along your jaw, voice so wrecked it makes your chest ache. "Tell me you mean it. Tell me this isn't just the fuckin' beer talking, baby, 'cause I swear to God—"

You pull back just enough to look at him. Really look at him.

He looks wrecked already. Like this is costing him. Like this has been sitting on the tip of his tongue for longer than you've even dared to hope.

And you swear something inside you snaps.

"It's not," you breathe, shaking your head as you cup his jaw in your hands. "Swear it's not."

He curses under his breath, dragging his hands down to your thighs like he's grounding himself, like he's trying to keep himself from breaking.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes screwed shut like it physically hurts to keep his hands from sliding under your shorts. "Need you to tell me what you want, baby. Please."

And it's there, on the tip of your tongue.

The thing you swore you'd never risk saying.

But it's too late now, isn't it? You've already crossed the line.

So you whisper it like a secret, like it's been sitting there in your chest for years.

"I want you."

It happens fast after that. Like the air finally snaps between you and there's no holding it back. One second you're still hovering, trembling with it, your hands on his jaw like you're terrified he's going to pull away—and the next, you feel him exhale the most broken sound you've ever heard from him, his grip tightening on your thighs like he's lost the battle with himself.

"Come here," he groans, breath hitching, voice barely holding together, and before you can even blink, he's dragging you closer—sitting up straighter, chest pressed to yours, his mouth finding yours again like he's starving.

This time, it's different. Hotter. Desperate. There's no hesitation now, no teasing, no careful second-guessing. It's messy, frantic, like you've both finally stopped pretending this wasn't inevitable. His hands are everywhere—sliding up under your shirt, fingers dragging across your skin like he's trying to memorize every inch of you. You gasp into his mouth, shivering when his palms flatten against your back, pulling you flush to him, your thighs tightening around his waist instinctively like you can't stand even an inch of space between you.

You swear you feel him shudder under you, like you've knocked the breath clean out of him.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, dragging his mouth across your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck that make your whole body jolt. "Feel that? Feel what you fuckin' do to me?"

You do feel it—hard and hot between your legs, pressing up through your thin shorts—and the realization knocks every ounce of breath from your lungs. You roll your hips without thinking, grinding down with more pressure this time, and you feel him stiffen, hear the sharp curse tear from his throat.

His head falls back, curls brushing the back of the sofa, and you watch the muscles in his throat work as he swallows hard, jaw so tight you can see the effort it's taking him not to lose control right there.

"Jesus Christ, you're killin' me," he groans, one hand sliding up to fist in your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. "Tell me what you want, baby. Say it. Please."

You don't even hesitate. You can't. You're already shaking with it. Already soaked in it. Your voice comes out as more of a gasp than a whisper, breathless and messy against his jaw.

"Want you to touch me. Want you so bad it hurts."

The groan he lets out sounds like it physically knocks the breath out of him.

Before you can process it, he's moving. One strong arm sweeps under your thighs, the other curls tight around your back, and you let out a squeak of surprise when he stands, lifting you off the couch like you weigh nothing.

"Harry!" you gasp, clinging to him, laughing breathlessly as he stumbles toward the hallway.

"Shut up," he breathes against your neck, mouth dragging hot along your skin, "Not lettin' you go. Not now. Not ever."

You swear you feel your heart split in two right there.

By the time your back hits his mattress, you're trembling with it—skin buzzing, breath catching, heart pounding so hard it almost hurts.

He doesn't move for a second, just hovers over you, curls falling into his eyes, his chest heaving like he's trying to memorize every inch of you before he ruins it.

"Tell me again," he rasps, voice cracking. "Please. Need to hear you say it's not just the beer talkin', baby."

You sit up on your elbows, heart swelling so painfully full it feels like it might burst, and reach for the hem of your shirt.

"It's not," you whisper as you pull it over your head and toss it somewhere over the side of the bed. You're trembling a little now, but you don't stop. You meet his eyes—wide, glassy, hungry—and you nod, slow and certain. "It's me. I swear."

His eyes drop to your bare skin, and he drags his hand through his curls like he can't fucking believe this is happening.

"Jesus," he breathes, crawling over you again on his forearms like he's scared to crush you. "You're perfect. So fuckin' perfect."

You barely recognize the sound you make when he kisses you again—somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, like your body is short-circuiting under his hands. You've kissed him before—drunken pecks on the cheek, playful lips pressed to his jaw when he made you laugh too hard—but never like this. Never with the weight of every line you've tiptoed around collapsing all at once between your bodies.

His hands are greedy now, trembling just slightly as they trail along your sides, slipping under the curve of your ribs like he's afraid to rush, like he wants to memorize every inch of skin he's never dared to touch. He dips his head, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, sucking softly at the base of your neck, and you swear your back arches off the bed all on its own.

"So fuckin' soft," he murmurs under his breath, voice low and rough and right against your skin like it's a prayer you weren't meant to hear. His hands slide higher, fingertips brushing the underside of your bra, hesitating just barely like he's giving you that last out.

You nod before he even asks.

"Please," you whisper, breath catching, "I want you to touch me."

He groans like you've wrecked him completely, leaning up just enough to tug the fabric over your head and toss it aside with your shirt. The moment your chest is bare to him, he just... stops. Stares. Like you're the first thing in his life that's ever left him speechless.

His palms come up slowly, reverently, cupping you like he's terrified you'll vanish if he blinks too long. His thumbs brush over your nipples and your whole body jerks with the heat of it, breath spilling out in something dangerously close to a moan.

"Fuck me," he whispers, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, like he's trying to keep himself from coming undone too fast. "You're... fuck, you're unreal."

You can't stop yourself—you hook your legs tighter around his waist, grinding up into him again, desperate to feel all of him. His breath stutters, hips jerking like he can't help himself.

And then he's moving again, dragging his mouth down your body—slow, lingering kisses pressed to every inch of skin he can reach. Down your ribs, over your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts.

He looks up at you from there, lips pink and swollen, curls a mess, chest still heaving.

"Can I take these off, baby?" he asks, voice so thick and wrecked it makes your stomach clench. "Wanna see all of you. Need to."

You nod so fast it almost embarrasses you, lifting your hips for him without a second thought. He drags your shorts and underwear down slow, eyes never leaving yours as he bares you completely.

The air feels electric on your skin. Too much and not enough at the same time. You feel exposed, trembling, but the way he looks at you—like you're the only thing in the world that matters—makes you feel like you could fall apart right there and he'd hold every single piece.

He sucks in a sharp breath, dragging his hand through his hair again like he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"Jesus, you're beautiful," he whispers, voice cracking, like it's physically painful to hold back. "Can't believe I get to touch you."

You reach for him again, curling your fingers into his shirt, tugging at the fabric until he gets the message. He peels it over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him, and when his bare chest presses to yours, skin to skin, you swear you could die from how right it feels.

"Please, Harry," you breathe, burying your face in his neck, rocking your hips up again without thinking. "Need you so bad it hurts."

He shudders, dragging his mouth back to yours, kissing you slower this time—deeper, like he's trying to pour every unspoken word into you.

"Gonna take care of you, baby," he whispers between kisses. "Promise. Gonna make you feel so good."

And you believe him. God, you believe him with every shaking breath you take.

You barely register the way your breath shudders in your throat when his mouth finds yours again. It's slower now. Deeper. Less frantic, more certain—like every kiss is meant to make you feel it. Like he knows you already do. His weight settles a little heavier on top of you, hips sinking between your thighs, skin hot and slick where his chest presses to yours.

You can feel him—all of him—hard and thick, pressing right where you need him, just separated by the thin fabric of his boxers. The pressure makes your breath catch, makes your hips tilt up instinctively like you're chasing something you're both too far gone to slow down for.

He groans into your mouth, one hand sliding down your side to grip your thigh, pulling it higher up his waist like he needs to feel closer, needs to make sure you know how badly he wants this. How badly he wants you.

"Fuck," he breathes, voice cracking as he drops his forehead to yours, hips rocking forward once—slow, steady—grinding into you just enough to make your whole body jolt. "Baby... I—"

He doesn't finish. Doesn't have to. You already feel him shaking above you, like he's holding himself together by the thinnest thread.

"Harry..." You can't even hear your own voice, breathless and wrecked, but you know he hears it by the way his grip tightens on your skin. "Need you. Please."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, wide green eyes flicking between yours like he's trying to memorize every single thing about you in this exact second.

"You sure?" he whispers, voice barely steady. "I don't—fuck—I don't wanna do this if you're not sure, baby."

You almost sob. "I've never been more sure of anything."

His face crumples like you've broken him, lips crashing onto yours again with so much force it steals every bit of air from your lungs. You feel his hand slide between you, pressing low over your stomach, slipping down until his fingers brush over the slick heat of you.

You let out a noise that sounds nothing like you—high and desperate, something you'd be embarrassed about if you weren't already too far gone to care.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, voice shaking like he's seconds from losing control. "You're so wet, baby. All for me, yeah?"

You nod frantically, clinging to him, your nails digging into his back as you roll your hips into his touch.

"All for you," you whisper back, voice cracking, "Please, Harry, just—please."

He shudders so hard you feel it in your bones, his breath spilling hot and shaky over your skin as his fingers slide through the mess between your legs, circling your clit so slow you could scream.

"Gonna take my time with you," he whispers, "Wanna feel you come on my fingers first. Wanna feel you fall apart for me."

And God, the way he says it—wrecked and hungry and like it's the only thing he's ever wanted—you don't think you've ever wanted anything more in your life.

You try to brace yourself. You know you should. But it's useless the second his fingers slip lower, dragging through your folds like he's already memorized every part of you. He's so gentle at first, so fucking careful, like he's afraid to hurt you or rush it. Like he's determined to make this the best thing you've ever felt.

Your body arches off the bed before you even realize you're moving, a broken moan catching in your throat when his fingers find that perfect spot again and again. It's slow, torturous, the way he circles your clit—light at first, just a tease, until your hips are chasing his touch, until you're gasping his name like you've forgotten how to say anything else.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, breath hot against your jaw as he keeps moving, building you higher with every slow stroke. "You're doin' so good for me. Sound so fuckin' pretty when you fall apart, you know that?"

You dig your nails into his shoulder, gripping him like he's the only thing keeping you from slipping under. You've never been this sensitive, never been this wound up, like every nerve in your body is buzzing under his touch.

You try to warn him—you really do. But the words die in your throat when he adds just a little more pressure, a little more speed, his mouth pressing hot kisses down your neck while his fingers work you open.

"C'mon, baby," he breathes, "Wanna feel you let go for me. Been dreamin' about this for fuckin' years, swear to God—"

You cry out, hips stuttering, body shaking as the pressure coils tighter and tighter until it snaps, crashing over you so hard it nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

You feel yourself clench around his fingers, feel him groan right against your ear like he feels it too, like he's just as wrecked by it as you are.

You're still gasping, still trying to catch your breath, when he pulls back just enough to cup your face in both hands. His lips are pink, swollen, his hair a complete mess. But it's his eyes that leave you breathless.

Wide. Shiny. Like you've just torn him to pieces and he doesn't know how to put himself back together.

"Baby," he whispers, voice breaking like it's too much, "Need to be inside you. Please. Please tell me you want that too."

You don't even hesitate. You reach for him, curling your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down until you feel him bare and hot and thick against your thigh.

You look up at him, heart in your throat, and whisper the only thing that's been sitting on your tongue since the moment this started: "I've always wanted you."

And you swear, in that split second before he sinks into you, he breaks all over again.

You feel him hesitate just for a breath—just long enough to make sure you don't change your mind. His forehead presses to yours, his nose brushing yours softly, like he's checking again without needing to ask out loud.

You slide your hands up his back, nails scraping lightly across his skin, and whisper the only thing you know will tip him over the edge.

"Please, Harry... I need you inside me."

The groan that rips out of him sounds almost pained. His fingers curl tighter around your waist, pulling your body up to meet him, and when you feel the thick head of him nudging at your entrance, you nearly stop breathing altogether.

He moves slow. So slow it's almost unbearable—like he's savoring every inch, dragging it out just to make you feel it. You gasp, clawing at his shoulders, your body stretching around him inch by inch until you're completely full, until there's no part of you that isn't pressed to him, surrounded by him.

"Fuck—" his voice cracks, shaking like he's seconds from losing it. "So fuckin' tight... Jesus Christ, baby, you feel... you feel like heaven."

You're trembling beneath him, breath stuttering out in little gasps you can't control. You feel stretched, full, claimed in a way that makes your head spin. Your nails dig deeper into his skin, grounding yourself against the overwhelming ache and pressure that feels like it's going to swallow you whole.

"Move," you gasp, hips tilting up to meet his, "Harry, please— need you to move."*

He groans again, low and wrecked, and finally—finally—he starts to move.

Slow at first. Barely pulling back before pressing right back in, hips rocking steady, grinding deep like he's tasting you from the inside. You cry out, biting your lip to muffle the sound, but he shakes his head, catching your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

"No," he pants, voice thick and ruined, "Let me hear you. Don't fuckin' hold back, baby. Want everyone to know how good I'm makin' you feel."

You let go of the breath you've been holding, head tipping back as a moan rips from your throat, loud and broken and real. His hips snap a little harder, a little faster, and the sound of it—skin on skin, your name falling from his lips like it's the only thing he knows how to say—makes you feel like you're coming undone all over again.

He presses his mouth to your ear, breath hot and shaking as he fucks into you harder, deeper, each stroke dragging a wrecked little whimper from your lips.

"Tell me this is mine now," he growls, voice pure filth in your ear. "Tell me no one else gets to touch you like this, baby. Ever again."

You can't think, can't breathe, can barely get the words out between gasps.

"It's yours," you choke out, clinging to him like your life depends on it. "Only you, Harry. Fuck—only you."

You don't know how he manages to keep it together. You're falling apart with every slow, deep thrust—clutching at him like you'll float away if you don't anchor yourself to his body. He's everywhere. Filling you, surrounding you, breathing you in like you're the only thing keeping him alive.

His hands frame your face like he needs to feel all of you to believe this is real. His thumbs swipe at the damp skin under your eyes, like he's trying to catch the little gasps and wrecked sounds falling from your lips. His mouth finds your jaw, your throat, dragging open-mouthed kisses down your skin as he groans, low and breathless.

"You feel so fuckin' good," he pants, hips rocking harder now, the bed creaking with every deep push. "Could stay right here all fuckin' night, baby. Stuffed full of me... takin' every inch so good... fuck— look at you."*

His voice hits something deep in you—something raw and helpless—and your back arches off the bed like your body's chasing every word.

"You're killin' me," you gasp, barely able to hold yourself together. "Harry— please—* harder, I—fuck, I need—"*

You don't even finish. He growls, actually growls into your neck, like you've snapped whatever restraint he had left. He pulls back, grabs your hips, and slams back into you, so deep and rough you choke on a cry you can't hold in.

"Like that?" he rasps, voice shaking as his hips piston faster now, driving into you like he's making up for every second you both wasted pretending you didn't want this. "S'that what you fuckin' need, baby? You need me to ruin you properly, huh?"

You nod, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes—not from pain, not even from pleasure—but from the way he's looking at you like you're his entire fucking world.

"Yes," you whimper, breath catching on a sob you didn't know was there. "Please— ruin me—* all yours—* always—"

He groans again, shaking above you, forehead pressed to yours like he's trying to climb inside your skin. His breath fans hot across your mouth as he slows just a little, grinding deep again, hips rocking in filthy little circles that make your whole body lock up.

"That's it," he pants, "Let me feel you again, baby. Wanna feel you come all over my cock. Can you do that for me? Huh? Wanna hear you fall apart one more time."

You can barely nod, already so close you could taste it. You grab at his back, wrapping your legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper, faster, until you can't even think anymore.

"Harry— I—* fuck—* I'm gonna—"*

He doesn't stop. Doesn't let up. He keeps fucking you steady and deep, his hand sliding between your bodies, finding your clit again, rubbing fast messy circles that destroy you.

You come hard, stars bursting behind your eyes, your whole body locking up under him as you cry out his name loud enough to echo through the room.

You hear him groan so deep it's almost a snarl, feel him jerk, hips snapping faster now, losing his rhythm like he's chasing his own release.

"Where— fuck—* where do you want me, baby? Tell me—* fuck—"

Your head spins. Your body's still shaking, still buzzing, but you manage to drag him down, mouth at his ear, whispering the filthiest thing you've ever said in your life.

"Want you inside me... fill me up, Harry... please— want all of you."

He loses it. Full-body shuddering, hands gripping your hips so tight you'll probably bruise, burying himself deep with a wrecked cry as he comes inside you, hips rocking through every last pulse of it until he finally collapses on top of you, shaking and breathless.

Neither of you moves for a long time.

His body is heavy on top of you, but you don't care. You wrap your arms around him tighter, as if letting go might shatter whatever spell has just woven itself between your ribs. His breath fans hot and uneven across your neck, every exhale trembling like he's still coming down from it—like he doesn't quite know how to land.

You feel him shift slightly, just enough to brace his weight on his elbows again, careful not to crush you. His nose brushes yours as he pulls back to look at you, curls sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. You've never seen him like this before. Wrecked. Fragile. Wide-eyed and terrified in the best possible way.

He blinks, searching your face like he's waiting for you to wake up and realize this was a mistake.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, so quiet you almost don't hear it.

Your throat tightens. You reach up, cupping his jaw with both hands, pulling him closer until your lips brush softly over his.

"I've never been better," you breathe. "Promise."

You feel him sigh, like you've just cut every string holding him together. His forehead presses to yours again, eyes squeezing shut like he doesn't know how to say what he needs to say without falling apart.

"I—" His voice cracks. He pulls in a shaking breath. "I don't wanna ruin this. Don't wanna fuck this up."

Your heart breaks a little at how scared he sounds. Like you could somehow forget what just happened. Like you haven't already fallen so far there's no way back.

You trace your thumb along his jaw, tilting his face until he's looking at you again.

"You couldn't ruin this if you tried," you whisper. "I'm yours, Harry. I've been yours for so fucking long."

He lets out the softest sound—somewhere between a breath and a laugh—and leans in to kiss you again. This one's slower, softer. No heat, no urgency. Just yours. Just his.

You don't know how long you lie there tangled together, skin sticky, hearts pounding in sync. Long enough for the air to shift. Long enough for the weight of it all to settle over you both in the best kind of way.

When he finally rolls to his side, pulling you with him, tucking you into his chest like you belong there, you hear him murmur against your hair:

"You're not leavin' me after this, yeah?"

You smile, nose brushing his throat as you snuggle closer.

"Not a chance."

And you swear you feel him smile against your skin, arms tightening around you like he's never letting go.

Not tonight. Not ever.

***

@cloudyluun @gem1712 @dipmeinhoneyh @idk1990 @harrrrystylesslut @sparxx27 @likea-silhouette @fangirl509east @starryhaze-crystal @mads3502 @run-for-the-hills @twinklaei @belgianblondee @pbandnutella @maudie-duan @cat-loves-music @harrysgirl2003 @harrystyleshotwife @secretands-blog @dutchtheatrelore @angeldavis777 @idkidcfuboh @maddiesalvatore1839

[averyuniqueusername]

Laughter filled the small cave they stood in and bounced off the rocks, strengthening into a rolling wave that crashed into the genie's senses. The mighty genie startled and glanced down at the small old man. ". . . What? What are you laughing about? I haven't even finished listing the rules yet. " The frail old man's giggling dissolved into a coughing fit, and after a moment's rest he peered back up at the genie, his sparkling eyes barely visible from underneath large, bushy eyebrows. " Son, I wasn't planning on asking you for more time. Lord knows I've had plenty of that. " The genie studied the man before him. The old man was dressed in well-loved overalls, a white shirt and a straw hat. One gnarled hand supported the man on an old wooden cane, and the other grasped the handle of an old rusted metal gas lamp that had housed the genie for about a hundred years. Drifting from a crack in the glass of the lamp was parts of the genie's smoky tail, emanating a soft glow that threw light and shadows on the old man in a way that made him almost otherworldly. A thousand men before him would have never dared interrupt him, they would be chomping at the bit to make the first wish. Instead of anticipating, he was laughing. But it was no matter, he was a human like the rest of his masters. Three wishes to twist the best he could, and then leap into the nearest lamp for the next fool to find. His face twisted back into a mechanized smile.

" Well, good to know. Rule number two is: No wishing someone dead or alive. Everyone has their time on this land and frankly I couldn't care enough to change that. "

Another fit of giggles, followed by harsh coughing. The genie grimaced as his new master doubled over for a minute to catch his breath. How could he find humor in the possibility of great power, wealth, even a return to the youth he surely misses? Men and women would discover the genie and demand endless everything. That's all humans are, just selfish good for nothing fools who want a-

" - lamp here, son. "

" . . I beg your pardon? "

The old man lifted the lamp a bit. " I said I'm worried about this old lamp here, son. Don't you live in it? "

" I. . I do, full time as a matter of fact. A good bottle is hard to come by now a days. "

Another chuckle into a wheezing cough. "I agree, and I'd like to spend that first wish to fix it. "

" What? There's far better things to wish for. Ask me for a grand palace or or a great horse. " A horse could easily trample the old man, and the grand palace could be far, far away.

" Maybe if I was a younger man. My house is my palace, as empty as it is, and I'm sure you'd like yours to be the same. "

The genie crossed his arms. " Well, You'll have to say the words "

" Oh-h-h right. " The old man straightened himself and puffed out his chest. " I wish that this here lamp become the finest container for. . what was your name again? "

" . . Asa . " Names held no power over a genie, but Asa still doubted the old man's intentions

The old man smiled " Roger, nice to meetcha. Well, I wish that Asa's lamp becomes the finest lamp the world ever did see. "

Asa hesitated, but with a small clap of his hands the lamp in Rogers hand melded into a fine metal lantern with lattice sides and a gazebo topped chimney from which the genie's tail now pours out.

" Now that's a pretty lantern. That sort of craftmanship hasn't been seen around here for a while." Before Asa had a chance to respond, Roger turned around and started to shuffle towards the cave entrance.

" Where are you going? " Asa tried to stay put, but there was only so far he could be from his lamp, and he was slowly, helplessly tugged behind the old man.

" Out to see the sunrise one more time. " Roger hobbled to the cave entrance, and paused when he felt the smoke tug on the lantern.

" I don't want to "

"Well, I wish you'd join me, I've yet to miss a sunrise and I won't start now. "

"Rule number one," said the genie, "you can't wish for immortality. At best I can promise is that you'll live as long as I do, and frankly, I don't know how long a genie lives. I could die immediately upon granting your wishes."

[nakylvr]

— GLOW ✧ D.A

summary: a short drabble with dealer!dani expressing her feelings and vulnerability for the first time

warnings/tags: fluff, established relationship, dealer!dani au, f!reader, mild language

part of the substance series

just a little something to expand a bit on dani's feelings 🤗

"dani?"

"hm?" daniela looks over at you from her spot in bed next to you, her eyes low lidded and slightly red.

"can i ask you something?" you ask.

"anything." she nods.

you roll onto your side, one of your arms draping over her torso as you rest your head on her shoulder. "do you...am i clingy?"

"what?" daniela lets out, glancing down at you. "what do you mean?"

"well," you pause. "i guess i just think i make you uncomfortable by being affectionate and stuff," you mumble. "you always kinda freeze, and you don't look like you're all the way there with me. i just don't want you to be uncomfortable."

the words take a moment to process in dani's brain. going through it all, she does notice she does freeze. panic, almost whenever you're close to her. even now, two years later her heart still beats rapidly out of her chest just being near you.

hesitantly, she grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with hers, causing you to look up at her. "you could never make me uncomfortable, mi vida," she says softly, bringing your hand up and kissing your knuckles. "i just...have never felt like this with anyone before." she admits quietly.

you don't say anything, waiting for her to continue, so she does.

"in all of my relationships—if that's what you would even call them, i wouldn't let them really get close to me. and i don't mean just physically, but emotionally also," daniela starts, averting her eyes to look at the tv that wasn't on. "i haven't told you this but...that wasn't the first time i got arrested. one of the girls i was with basically sent me out to a fake deal so she could take the money while i ended up in jail for a month until manon managed to get me out." she takes a shaky breath. "and i didn't let anyone get close to me for a really long time. then manon told me about this really nice, beautiful girl who was looking to find some weed from someone who 'wasn't a creep'. that girl was you." looking down at you, you can see the tears forming in her eyes, but she keeps going before you can say anything.

"i hadn't let anyone get close to me in so long, that i was scared in the beginning. i knew i was in love with you and that scared the shit out of me because i have never really loved anyone like this before. it always went to shit. nothing ever worked out. but, i couldn't let this one not work out. i was in too deep by the night you stayed over. i knew that, and i knew that if i didn't try then nothing would work out, like always. i love you so much, and i'm never going to stop loving you even when i'm dead. you mean the world to me. you never make me uncomfortable, i love the affection and the way you are with me. i just am still getting used to it." she finishes, pressing another gentle kiss on your knuckles.

you move your hand to cup her cheek, looking back at her with softness and warmth in your eyes as you wipe away the stray tear that fell down her face with your thumb. "i didn't know that," you say quietly. "i'm so sorry, daniela."

daniela can spot the signs of guilt seeping through your expression realizing you essentially made her relive that experience, and she shakes her head. "it's okay, you don't have to apologize," she tells you.

"i love you," you whisper. "more than anything else."

"i love you too," she says in the same voice. "i always will."

[catssluvr]

sweet scent, travis martinez

butch!lumberjack!travis martinez x college!fem!reader (616 words) (request)

in which your girlfriend (gladly) disrupts your peace while you're making dinner.

꩜꩜

You hum along the song playing on the radio, wiping your hands on your apron as you finish washing the various vegetables.

Moving to the counter, you start chopping them as your dog shuffles to lay by your feet. The last rays of sunshine flash through the window in front of you, warming your skin in a pleasant way.

The pan on the stove starts to leave a delightful smell in the air, your stomach growling slightly at the thought of a nice and warm meal.

You want nothing more than to finally hear the door open, followed by Travis and her way too good looking while sweaty face. She's been out for the whole day, fixing the fence that broke last week.

Not that you haven't kept busy for the whole day, writing and finishing most of your assignment while you still can and have the quiet that it requires.

Almost as faith, you hear the door slam shut. Followed by the sound of your girlfriend taking off her boots and settling them down.

Her steps follow down the hall, catching the sight of her raven hair as she walks into the kitchen from the corner of your eye. The golden retriever by your feet practically jumps, throwing himself on her while barking happily.

"Hey, bud. I missed you too." Travis scratches behind his ears, smiling widely at the pet.

She moves swiftly, coming to wrap her arms around your waist from behind.

"Hi, baby." She says gently, pressing a long kiss to your jaw and nuzzling into your neck.

"Hey there." You smile, reaching to squeeze her hand where it's resting on your stomach.

"Smells really good." She hums and you're not sure if she means the food or you, her nose pretty much buried in your neck.

"Making you a warm meal. You deserve it after that day you had." You express, moving to throw the already chopped vegetables into the pan.

"You didn't have to." Her cheeks turn into a soft shade of pink, always shy with the attention she's receiving. You can't help but grin at her, heart warming at the way her eyes glint.

"I know. I wanted to." You retort softly.

"Thank you." Her lips press to your shoulder messily.

You finally have the opportunity to turn and look at her. She has her checkered button up tied around her waist, arms exposed to the warm air because of her white and slightly stained tank top. Her black pants hang low on her waist, giving you the best view of her toned abs.

"What?" She questions after you look at her for a second too long.

"Nothing. You're just very handsome." You confess moving to press your lips to her for a quick peck.

"You're too nice, baby." Travis giggles, hiding her face on your hair.

"Wanna go shower or are you too hungry?"

"Don't feel like it just yet." She says, opening the fridge to pull out a cool beer.

You hum, "M'kay. We'll just shower later then." You confirm, catching the way she grins at the word 'us'.

"Great." She answer, pulling herself up to sit on the counter while you finish cooking.

Calling your name softly to turn your attention back to her, you almost don't catch the way her lips move to mouth a soft 'i love you'.

You smile with teeth, shaking your head to yourself at the all too teenage like feeling. You reach to squeeze her thigh, not having to say the words to know she understands you feel exactly the same way.

[bigbootyshortboi]

Hitchhiker Andy (part 3)

He's back, baby!!! I legit haven't planned out a single bit of this, so we're just gonna free ball it. LOL Wish me luck!!!

P.S same warnings as the last 2 + maybe some burps incase that's is a turn off for anyone okay bye~~

It took a lot of convincing for Andy to get permission from the diner to eat in just a blanket. Luckily, one of the waitresses overheard us talking to the owner and telling him about our story of how we got here, and when we name dropped Axel, she vouched for the whole thing, saying they hooked up a week ago and then only after they finished did he drop that he just needed a break from his 'needy boyfriend'.

While I was grateful she helped us, it did hurt hearing from another person Axel cheated on me with. I think Andy could tell as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and rubbed it, trying to comfort me.

We sat at our booth and ordered some breakfast foods. I just wanted waffles, but this place had really big servings and sides, and I didn't wanna waste money taking stuff off, so I decided i'd just buy a whole meal and save the leftovers. Andy got 2 servings of their 'Hearty Platter' which consisted of sausages, bacon, eggs, pancakes, and biscuits and gravy.

"And what would you like, sir?" Our waiter looked at me

"Whatever your cheapest meal with waffles is, please."

Andy raised an eyebrow at me, looking a little offended. "I told you I'd pay you back. There's no need to be stingy. Get what you want, seriously."

"I'm just not that hungry, I'm fine with just a few waffles, I was just gonna save the rest-"

Andy decided to cut me off "Can you get him what I'm having but substitute the pancakes for waffles?"

The waiter looks at him and then back at me. "That's... a possible substitute, but it sounds to me your boyfriend isn't interested in eating too much-"

Andy's face goes completely red, his somewhat cocky and playful demeanor vanishing in an instant at the mention of us being boyfriends

"Ah- um, we're not boyfriends you're mistaken" Andy jumbles through before suddenly getting his confidence back. "I'm just gonna let him have the waffles and take the rest off his hands"

Both mine and the waiter's eyes widen a little, and the waiter speaks

"W-with all due respect, sir, did you not just already order 2 helpings of the same meal-"

Andy stands up, and the waiter stops speaking, intimidated, he switches his tune "c-coming right up!"

Andy smirks, sitting back down and shooting me a goofy grin, he sees me look a little concerned before he raises his eyebrow, still smiling. "What? I was just gonna fart on him"

This stifles a laugh out of me that takes all of my willpower to not let out more than a chuckle. Andy smiles up at me "Normally I wouldn't eat this much, I eat a lot, but 3 servings of diner food isn't exactly how I keep my physique. But today is a special occasion, and I'm sure you know by now the amount of firepower this will give my blustering ass cheeks for that twerp.

I nod and just let him do his thing. Not much happens while we eat, some small talk, but other than that, I just watch him rip through his food. I'm not big into like feeding or stuffing, but... god, the way he is scarfing it down is... doing something to me. God, I need to stop thinking like this. I don't wanna fall for him. Especially after how freaked he got when the waiter assumed we were together.

URRRRRRRRRRRRAAP

"Phew- that damn hits the spot" Andy pats his bloated (yet still toned somehow???) stomach, smiling at me after he just let out a monsterous belch.

buwuurrrrrrp

He lets out another, smaller one before grabbing his last spoonful of eggs "This shit's gonna bring me some massive firepower. Your nose is not ready, I promise you" he chuckles as he says this, but my face just goes red, blushing. I think I've genuinely become attracted to his gassiness. I can feel myself getting horny staring at him, and listening to his emissions. I try not to make it obvious how I feel but at this point I don't know if I'm doing a good job.

"Hey bro," Andy looks up at me, looking a little serious and just slightly bashful as he speaks. "Just so you know, after I blast Axel into high heaven, if you aren't too disgusted with me after, and you ever wanna hang out-" I watch as he snatches a pen from a random waitresses apron and pulls out a napkin "This... is my number." he hands me the napkin and taps the waitress's elbow, giving her the pen and saying it 'fell out her pocket'

I look up at him, I'm sure my blushing is obvious, but I try to compose myself. This is probably just him thinking we hit it off as buds. "Thanks, Andy... and don't worry, I won't be sick of you at all."

Andy smiles at this "I hope so, you haven't even seen a category 4 come out of my ass, and we're jumping straight to 5 on this bitch soon"

I need him to stop speaking by fuck am I hard.

Eventually, I pay the check (and put a tip in the tip jar, that waitress who knew Axel deserved some love too.) and then we walk out to my car, I instinctively walk to the driver's seat before Andy stops me "Nuh-uh, remember, I'm driving so you can get some rest" I nod, feeling a bit dazed and tired from eating, driving, crying, all of it really, I kind of abesnt mindedly nod, brushing against him, my hand landing on his still bloated and gurgling stomach, this causes a small wince and a small (for him) BRRRRPPRT out of him.

"S-sorry" I say, as I try to brush past him, but he grabs my wrist, smirking at me

"Nah, you gotta marinate in this one, punishment for releasing some of my gas for Asshole Axel." He chuckles, and I just smile faintly, really feeling the effects of my fatigue, he decides to let me go after a few seconds and walk me to the passenger's side, reclining my chair and telling me to get some rest.

I feel the car start to move as I lull into a nap, the last thing I see is Andy leaning to the right a little and releasing a tiny 'brrprprt' before whispering

"Sweet dreams, handsome"

Andy PoV:

Seeing him sleep so peacefully gives me a sense of bliss. It's crazy to meet a guy this kind after sleeping with absolutely trash the night before. I don't see how Axel could've hurt someone this sweet... this pure...

I wish I wasn't such a fart bastard right now lol

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE farting it up. It's the highlight of most of my life. But it's heartbreaking when guys think it'a a turn-off. Usually it doesn't bug me, the guys aren't worth my time so fuck their opinion, but... with you... it's gonna be so hard if you don't wanna see me anymore. He hasn't ran yet, but he's only seen me casually, we haven't had a chance to maybe get closer... and he hasn't heard my worst... if only there was a way I could see if he could handle it... I'd sit on his damn face right now if I didn't like him so much. I'd love to blast someone that cute into high hell with my raunchiest farts... if only it were a possibility.

Meh, at least Axel ain't ugly. Blasting him won't hurt for now!

"Our" PoV:

I come to, and I notice I'm the car is parked in my old neighborhood, 2 houses down from where Axel and I were staying... I look to my left and notice Andy isn't there. At first I panic, sitting up, still groggy yet on alert, I look around and see my blanket in the back seat, the one Andy had been using as a towel.

"Don't... don't do it..." I mumble to myself, knowing full well I wanna dive head first into that blanket and test if I'm really into his gas or not, I'm sure it reeks after his ass was in it. I manage to resist the urge and look around, seeing another napkin from the diner in the driver's seat, with the pencil I keep in my car ontop of it. Something is written on top....

"Come inside if you dare >:) Door should be unlocked. Ripped a category 4 onto the nappy so you can get an idea, kinda mad you didn't get to hear it, lol. Maybe this is why they called me Hurricane Andy back in highschool... huh... anyway (read back)" before i flip the napkin, I bite my lip a little and sniff it, and INSTANTLY get hit with the smell of that breakfast platter, especially the eggs and sausage. I have no idea how he can produce this so easily. I cough for a bit, but I can't deny how it makes me feel in my pants. After a few seconds of recovery, I read the back "I went in when the clock ended in :30, gonna stall til :00 if I can, if you wanna be here hurry up, if not, stay safe in the car! (Warning! I nuked it at least twice into your blanket too, holding back is ROUGH when you rarely do it. Double Warning! If you come inside you're locked in, I give you 5 minutes tops to change your mind, Axel is my main priority and I'd love for you to see him suffer, but I don't want you to suffer too. That's all! Hope u slept well -A"

Well that was... alot to take in. But honestly, only 2 things really stuck. I look at the time... :53... I have 7 minutes in theory... I then look at the blanket... calling to me

I yank it into my hands and look at it for a second, seeing a faint yet large butt imprint on a part of it, knowing that must've been where he sat in it. One whiff won't hurt... right?

I shove the plush fabric into my face, putting my head directly where his ass was.

It. Is. FOUL.

And in the name of everything holy I love it.

After 5 minutes of sniffing, fantasizing, and a little bit of gagging, I burst out the car, rushing to the front door. I gulp as I grip the door knob, scared about what I'm gonna do, scared about how Axel will react to seeing me, afraid Andy or I will get in trouble, but all of that fades when I hear Andy's voice through the door "Yeah, yeah, nah I get it don't worry man-"

I don't know what he's talking about but... hearing him speak just, gives me confidence, so I twist the knob, and open the door.

Cliff hanger!!!! Bum bum bummmmmmmmm!!!! To be honest, this isn't my fave story so far, the burps were fun, though LOL. But I felt Andy needed another part before I get too invested in Jacob or anyone else I have coming up (I have wayyyy too many images saved LOL) I'm sure y'all could tell, but Axel WILL finally be showing up next time and let's just say his nose hairs will not be thriving! Hope you enjoyed, sorry if it's not up to par with the other 2, and I hope to please with part 4!

[mistressofthemanor]

Narcissa watched him closely. The confusion knitting his brow and his gaze searching hers for some kind of guidance. For a heartbeat, something softened within her. An instinctive tenderness that always seemed to surface whenever Lucius struggled to express himself. He was stumbling, cautious, carefully navigating her words as though they were traps laid before him, and it was endearing, even if unnecessary. "Oh, Lucius," she murmured softly, her voice carrying a quiet fondness rather than critique, as she raised one hand gently to smooth away the crease of worry etched across his forehead. "Relax, love. I'm not accusing you of anything at all." She smiled faintly, affectionately, with her usual elegance, and stepped closer, her hand resting lightly at the side of his neck, her thumb softly tracing just beneath his jawline. She knew well the effect it had on him; calming, anchoring him when his thoughts began to race. "You misunderstand me," she continued gently, tilting her head slightly as she held his gaze firmly but with a certain warmth. She could tell that her jokes weren't working and it certainly wasn't lifting the mood as his mind seemed to be elsewhere so she had to drop that immediately, rectifying her mistake. "I wasn't correcting your words—I was merely reaffirming them. Emphasizing, if you will, that it was never persuasion, duty, or anything else. It was simply you." Her voice softened even more, the playful challenge giving way entirely to sincerity. "All those mornings I chose to stay, Lucius—every delay, every whispered excuse—they were never about weakness or lack of discipline. They were about the fact that being with you, no matter how fleeting, was the one thing that felt right amidst everything else we faced." She paused, watching closely as her words sank in, making sure he heard her clearly this time. Her voice fell into a whisper, her eyes softening further still, the intensity of her sincerity radiating unmistakably. "So no," she finished gently, "you didn’t imply anything wrong. I was just confirming something we both already knew—something I perhaps haven't said enough. I stayed because I loved you. Not out of weakness, or because you convinced me— which you may have done on a few occasions," she added with a smirk, "but because I wanted every moment I could steal with you." She offered him a reassuring smile, hoping her words were finally clear. "Better," she asked quietly, her tone gently teasing once again but her eyes sincere, waiting patiently for him to accept her reassurance.

Bones of Contention

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

I want you to think about what it would be like to get fucked by the moon boys in their respective suit since they give our boys even more strength and most importantly STAMINA! 🌚😏

Honestly I would lie if I haven't thought about it too because obviously that would be hot

I genuinely think Jake would have you on his lap inside his cab, the suit on and just impaling you on his cock. Obviously he's so cocky about it and he knows he can go multiple rounds and likes to tease you about it. "Aw, look at the mess we made. Think you can go some more for me, bebita?"

Marc just goes absolutely feral about it, he's already strong but the suit makes him so much stronger!

(now thinking about the strength I am not doing well, please pick me up)

I think the moment you tell him you like the glowing eyes, he gets creative and fucks you in your room at night, the only light source being the faint light from your window and his glowing eyes. He would give you atleast a few orgasms before he let's you rest with his throbbing cock still inside you and only moving subtly to get you riled up again. Also, the moment you decide to tease him while he's in the suit he could snap and just pick you up, letting you know there is no escape until your legs are rendered limp.

"You're such a tease. But guess what honey, I just finished my duty! Don't worry though, I'll carry you once we're done."

AND STEVEN?! Boy the way you'd get a mask kink with him (I know I would)... Because let me tell you when he comes home all exhausted, throws his suit jacket and vest off?!? Only him, topless, pants down, the mask on and he's just making you a hot mess.

At first he forgot to take the mask off and fucked you with it on but you didn't say anything. So when you tell him how sexy it is with the mask on he's just getting all kinky and from now on you should expect him when he comes home to just rail you for a couple hours after dealing with Khonshu's shit.

"You bloody love it when I wear the mask, yeah?"

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

Tags:

@steven-grants-world @nekoyin @buckyssugarchick @iolaussharpe-24 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

@silvernight-m @buckyssugarchick @klillaah @stevendameron @ingoldthewizard

@alexxavicry @xxjust-a-kidxx @krakenkitty

[wosostories]

Heath Sisters PT 8 (USWNT x Teen!Reader)

Masterlist Heath Sisters Master List

USWNT X Teen!Reader

Y/N was asleep by the time they made it back to the hotel. Instead of waking her Tobin just lifted her on to her back before grabbing their bags. 

"Do you need any help with that?" Christen asks the older girl. 

"Uh no I've got it."

"Are you sure? It's no problem." 

Tobin nods slowly, "That would be great then. Thanks." Tobin hands off one of their bags and they make their way off of the bus. 

Most of the girls head straight to the meeting room where they would eat while going over some film. Tobin grabbed a plate for Y/N before bringing it up to their room. She left Y/N to sleep on the bed with the plate of food sitting on the night stand with a note reminding her to do her school work when she woke. 

After Tobin made her way back downstairs. 

"Is the superstar not joining us?" A Rod asks as Tobin grabs her own food. 

"No she's still asleep. Then she's got some school work to take care of."

"She's on vacation and you're still making her do work? That's just cruel man." Cheney says. 

"I might agree if she was actually on vacation. She's home schooled through an online program so she can work at her own pace. She's slated to be done with high school by this time next year, but she'll probably be done before summer is over if she has her way."

"What do you mean done with high school. Isn't she just started middle school?" 

"Life would be like a million times easier if that were the case. But no my sister stole all the smarts and is a genius both on and off the pitch."

"So what's she going to do about college?" 

"Well we haven't talked too much about specifics yet. We're waiting to see where I'll get drafted. And it's a lot of work to set up for a minor to be in college, no matter how smart they are."

"Aren't you being slated to go first over all? So you'll end up in Atlanta right?"

"That's the most likely case, but…" Tobin shrugs her shoulder, "you guys know the league. Players are getting traded left and right with no say. I can't leave Y/N in a city with out me."

Before either of the others could respond their attention was brought to the front screen. 

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

Y/N bolts up in bed. Sweat shining on her face and her breathing heavy. She frantically looks around the room for her sister hoping that Tobin will be there to help calm her down. 

After realizing that she is not there Y/N lies back down and curls herself into a ball trying to sooth herself. 

"Its ok. You're ok Y/N. You're ok. Everything is ok. Toby's just in a meeting she'll be back soon. It's ok." 

When Y/N finally controlled her breathing she started to smell the food coming from the side table. She peeked up at it and noticed the sandwich and the note. 

"Hey kid, hope you got some rest. I'm downstairs in the meeting room if you need me, but try to eat something and get some work done. Be up later. Love ya!"

- Toby

Y/N sighs and pulls the plate into her lap. She takes a few bites before getting up to grab her school stuff. She opens one of her note books and her computer. She finishes the rest of her sand which while she waits for it to decide whether or not it wants to boot up. 

The laptop was one that Tobin had picked up second hand at a garage sale and was about 12 years old. This meant that it was hard sometimes for Y/N to get her work done if the computer decided that it did not want to work. 

When Y/N finally got logged into her course she made a plan of everything that she wanted to get done during the two weeks that she was with her sister at camp. 

Once she is done with her plan she jumps in to her math work. She isn't a fan of the complicated statistics that she has to do despite being very good at it. 

Once she finishes the two lessons she wanted to get done for the week she pulls out her battered copy of The Great Gatsby. She started on the third chapter hoping to be over halfway done by the time Tobin came back to their room. 

About an hour and a half later Y/N closes the book at the half way point. Tobin wasn't back yet, but Y/N was done doing her work for the day. 

She goes over to her backpack and pulls out another note book. This one is a little smaller and more resembles a journal. 

She flips it open to the next blank page and makes a list of every player at camp. She then writes down notes and observations about each one of them based on what she saw at the first training session. 

Tobin Heath- Needs to come in for crosses to Wambach. She is a taller player so it needs to be higher when headed. Stay wider for passes to Press, need to connect right in front of goal. 

Abby Wambach- Most goals are scored by headers. 5'11, hangs out in front/to side of goal waiting for crosses in. Big goal scorer and always has some one on her. Need to see more. 

Most of the players have a 'need to see more' note ending Y/N's observations of them. She gets through five players before the door opens and Tobin walks in. A few very loud teammates following behind her. 

"Hey kid. Get some work done?" Tobin asks ignoring the girls following her. 

"Ya." Y/N nods. "Got a few stats lessons done and got about half way through my book for english." 

"Awesome. You working on your notes now?"

"Ya there was a lot that happened at practice today and I wanted to get it down before I forgot." Y/N looks up, "What's the loud one's name again?" She points to Kelley who is standing behind Tobin.

"Kelley?"

"Ya her. I was just about to start her page. I know coach has her playing in the midfield, and she's great at it and all, but I think if we at least moved her a little bit higher on the field it would be better. I also think having her on the wing is good. She's fast and has a lot of energy so if her positioning is tweaked and we get her to have a better read of the field she can literally just appear where she is needed before the defense can catch up."

.

.

.

"Who the fuck even are you kid? Where did you come from?"

Y/N flinches a little at her tone. "I came with Toby."

"That's not what I meant."

Y/N shrugs and goes to write everything she just said down in her note book. Before she can though it is snatched out of her hands. 

"H-hey…"

"Holy shit kid! Do you have notes on every person you have ever seen play soccer?"

Tobin takes the book out of her hands and gives it back to her sister. "Kelley if you are going to hang around my sister you have to be nice and respect her stuff. If you can't I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Yeah Kelley be nice." A Rod says sarcastically. 

"I just wanted to see. And what if I don't want her taking notes on me?"

"Trust me Kelley you want her taking notes on you. It might seem like she takes notes on everyone, but that's not the case." Tobin explains. 

"Ok then who does she take notes on?" Chaney asks.

Tobin looks at Y/N but she simply shrugs. 

"Is there some type of criteria that needs to be met or something?" 

Y/N shakes her head. "No… well kinda I guess. It's just a feeling I get. When something or someone might be important. So I write it down. It's kind of different right now though. I'm taking notes on all of you cause you're my sisters teammates, so I guess that automatically makes you important. No feeling needed."

Kelley wraps her arm around the kids neck, "So you think I'm important. Hear that guys? Wonder kid said I'm important."

"She thinks we're all important." A Rod says. 

They continue to bicker between the three of them. They are so caught up that none of them notice that Y/N stopped breathing the moment Kelley put her arm on her. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to keep herself as still as possible. 

"Kelley! Kelley can you not?" Tobin tried, but her teammate was not listening. Once realizing that the other girl was not going to listen Tobin resorted to pulling her arm off of Y/N. She then pushed all three of the girls out of the room angrily before slamming the door in their faces.

[onlygirlaliveinnyc]

you've got me, haven't you? ｡𖦹°‧

pairing: early 90s! noel gallagher x you genre: soft fluff / drunk clingy affection word count: 1084 warnings: drunk!reader, mild language summary: you’re a bit drunk and very much in love. noel pretends he can’t stand it... (he absolutely can)

the pub was loud. bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, a stale haze of beer and smoke clinging to everything. bonehead was shouting over someone’s off-key version of i wanna be adored while guigs leaned back, pint in hand, laughing at something no one had heard.

you had your head on noel’s shoulder, cheek pressed to soft flannel, hand resting right over his heart like it belonged there. he sat with one arm stretched along the booth’s back, fingers just barely brushing your arm. he hadn’t touched his pint in ages. neither had you.

“y’know,” you murmured, voice slow with drink and fondness, “i think you might be the prettiest boy in manchester.”

noel groaned, dragging his eyes toward the ceiling. “not this again.”

“but you are,” you said, brushing your lips against his jaw. “you’ve got those lashes. and the mouth. don’t even get me started on the mouth.”

he turned his face away, but not before you caught the corner of a smile pulling at his lips.

“fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

across the booth, guigs grinned like he’d won a bet. “look at him—used to be dead mysterious. now he’s got his girl hangin’ off him, kissin’ his neck in front of everyone.”

you ignored him. your mouth found the edge of noel’s jaw again, pressing soft against the warmth of his skin. his stubble scratched lightly against your lips. familiar. real. he didn’t push you off.

“don’t mind them,” you whispered. “you’re mine.”

noel shifted just slightly, letting his hand fall to your thigh. not showy. not possessive. just there.

“you’re a fuckin’ menace when you’ve had a drink,” he said, voice low.

“only with you.” you said back just as low, a slur evident in your voice.

his fingers tightened where they rested, just a bit. like your words had caught somewhere deep under the ribs.

“don’t make a scene, babydoll,” he muttered. “m’tryin’ to keep some dignity.”

you smiled against his shoulder. “you love it.”

“i really fuckin’ don’t.” he muttered—

but he downed the rest of his pint with a long sigh and stood, tugging you gently to your feet. “right. that’s enough. we’re goin’.”

“m’not finished—” you began with a pout, before he cut you off.

“you are. before you start singin’ or somethin’ worse.”

you laughed, stumbling a little. noel caught you before you could fall, hands warm and steady on your waist.

“you alright?” he asked.

“just dizzy,” you breathed, blinking up at him.

“you’re pissed.”

“so are you.”

he snorted. “yeah, but i can walk in a straight line.”

—

outside, the air was cool and damp, the glow of the streetlights flickering gold over wet pavement. noel walked with one hand in his coat pocket, the other holding yours like it meant nothing. like it was nothing new.

“you don’t even like holdin’ hands,” you said, fingers curled through his.

“don’t tell people that,” he muttered. “makes me sound soft.”

“you are soft.”

“i’m not.”

you bumped his shoulder with yours. “are. just don’t let anyone see.”

he didn’t argue. just squeezed your hand once, quiet and sure.

—

back at his place, you kicked your boots off near the door while noel put the kettle on. your tights were laddered and your eyeliner had half-smudged under your eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care.

“you makin’ tea?” you asked, sleepily.

“yeah. sober you up.”

“you’re nice.”

“no i’m not.”

still, he reached for your favourite mug. dropped a biscuit in it before you could even ask.

you leaned in the kitchen doorway, watching him. the way he moved like it was routine now. like looking after you was something he didn’t even have to think about anymore.

“c’mere,” he said after a moment.

you padded over. he reached for you, brushing a bit of hair behind your ear, fingers grazing the curve of your jaw.

“you look knackered.” he murmured softly.

“you look beautiful." you said back, a small giggle in your voice.

he winced, half-turning away. “jesus.”

“don’t roll your eyes at me,” you whispered, smiling. “let me love you.”

his hands settled on your waist. “you’re off your head.”

“you like it.”

he didn’t say anything. just leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your temple—quick, soft, like it slipped out before he could stop it.

in bed, you curled up against him. his arms wrapped around you like instinct, like he’d been waiting for it. your leg tangled with his, fingers finding the hem of his shirt and sneaking beneath it. his skin was warm.

you kissed the base of his throat, right over where his pulse beat steady and strong.

“love you,” you whispered.

noel’s hand traced slow, steady circles against your back.

“you’ve got me, haven’t you?” you murmured.

he didn’t say 'i love you' back, not quite. but his voice was steady when he said, “yeah. ‘course i do.”

and when he fell asleep, it was with your hand on his chest, your breath against his neck, and that faint, secret smile still tugging at his mouth.

[bizarrelittlemew]

calling it right now that season 3 starts like this

[hgracieeees]

Aaron Sorkin, Janel Moloney & Bradley Whitford on Josh & Donna's slowburn romance:

transcription below the cut from here

[abridged to remove filler words/sounds]

Interviewer: So for you two [to Janel & Bradley]… you had possibly the slowest burn romance in the history of-

Bradley Whitford: Yes.

Interviewer: Was there a point where you just said ‘Oh my God, like, let’s just do this already, let’s just close the, open up the lid, and-’

Josh Malina: On or off camera?

[They all laugh]

Richard Shiff: It’s either way.

Interviewer: Talk about your romance, and just how long the development of it-

Bradley: Well, I mean… [to Aaron Sorkin] you know, you stopped it. At a certain point, I was like ‘Jesus, we are the most emotionally constipated people-’

Janel Moloney: No, no, no. I never wanted it to happen.

Bradley: Dramatically, you didn’t want it to happen.

Interviewer: As actors.

Janel: I didn’t want it to happen, specifically because-

Josh: [gesturing to Bradley (?)] As a human being, I understand you now.

Janel: No, I felt like the moment I was not either his assistant or this person that was on another side of the world from him romantically, that we could never make it to each other, once that tension was broken, I was afraid I wasn’t going to be on the show anymore. For the longest time, in the beginning, I thought, ‘Oh please, don’t make me the romantic interest-

Richard: ‘This has to end. This has to end.’

Janel: ‘-because then Donna gets fired, Donna goes away, and another assistant-’ I said, ‘No, I never wanted-’

Bradley: There’s nothing more boring for an audience than consummation, right?

Aaron Sorkin: I don’t agree, actually. To answer [the interviewer’s] question, that’s entirely my fault. I wrote the show, for the first four years, Donna and Josh did not get together during the first four years, and that’s my fault, and the reason why is that the inspiration for the relationship between Donna and Josh is the relationship that I have with my long-time, long-suffering assistant Lauran Lohman, and our relationship- The difference is that [Josh & Donna’s] is also a flirtatious, romantic relationship; mine with my assistant, it’s not. It’s a big brother, little sister relationship, where she calls me a knucklehead. And all because of that, because that was just in the bloodstream of it, even if [Janel & Bradley] didn’t know it, and even if it wasn’t on the page, if I were to do it, if I were to have Josh and Donna get together, to me, personally, it felt slightly incestuous. And I know now looking back, and if I had it to do over, what I would have done… First of all, I should tell you that I’m very proud of everything that we did together but there isn’t a single episode that we did that I wouldn’t love to get back and do again. If I had it to do over, sometime after the second season, I would have given Donna a promotion, gotten her off of Josh’s desk, so now, it wouldn’t have been-

Richard: So to speak.

[They all laugh]

Aaron: -such an inappropriate kind of thing, and I would have let them have a relationship, and there are- Really good writers have proven to me that [to Bradley] you’re wrong, that interesting things can happen after that.

[disposal-blueeee]

guess what ! doodles . again

edgar , nny and devi belong to johnen vasquez (even if i only drew nny and devi at the bottom)

scriabin by zarla-s

[drcabcde]

The 12th Doctor drives me insane because his episodes have some great moments and occasionally I find myself actually enjoying what's happening but then you get hit with the sledgehammer of Moffat's misogyny any time a woman appears on screen and it's exhausting to sit through

[jangmi-latte]

AIGHT THE BURNOUT'S OVER I'M BACK TIME TO ANSWER THOSE ROOK ASKS MAN I'M STARVING FOR HIM SO MUCH I MIGHT GO FERAL AND FOAM IN THE MOUTH THAT MAN GOT ME RIPPING MY PILLOWS

[morangoowada]

Wondering about Chihiro…in your au….🙏

Ohhh Chihiro! Well they were one of the characters that I really liked designing, I thought the artificer class matched her a lot, Chihiro is a programmer in canon so I tried to make them still have that technology going on

One thing that is really important to Chihiro's character is how she thinks herself to be weaker than the others, they have all that inferiority complex going on and it's still very important to their character in this au. I made her a very small and fragile character regarding to psychical strength, she thinks that makes her out to be useless comparing to the rest of her party but it's just not the truth. The problem is that Chihiro needs to understand where her strengths really are

[voluptuarian]

imagine if I was EVER allowed to get some sleep in before my night shifts. I spent 4 HOURS trying to sleep before giving up tonight. I have been awake since 9 am, including donating plasma. Even if I get 5 minutes to myself tonight, which I won't because every night is Party Night now for some reason, I will be too dead on my feet to accomplish anything I need to do.