#Michael 5 Expressions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chr0llossexygf · 2 years ago

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IN RUINS

PAIRING: spencer reid x fem reader

SUMMARY: spencer reid has always had something against you. during a particular case, spencer snaps and says something he shouldn’t have said leaving you in ruins. but what happens when your in danger and he still hasn’t explained why he reacted the way he did. will he have the time?

“ what happened?” hotch says standing infront of the big white board that had some very gruesome pictures of 5 victims splayed out on a park bench. he’s standing tall and strong with his hands crossed in his dark grey suit. he’s looking at you and spencer, who’s walking in right behind you slamming the door close.

“ It’s her fault.” spencer says quickly moving to the other side of the room opposite you, trying to get as far away from you as possible.

you take a deep breath in trying your absolute hardest not to roll your eyes and cross your hands in annoyance and disappointment. “ it’s not my fault reid-”

“ woah woah what the heck happened?” morgan says pushing himself back in the precinct chair watching you and spencer. he looks at spencer, he sees the strong look of disgust and annoyance spencer is shooting at you. he looks at you, he notices you looking at spencer with a disappointed look.

“ she told the unsubs family we are after the unsub-” spencer spits out looking over at hotch, waiting for him to yell at you or lecture you.

“ wait spence we don’t even know who the unsub is. what do you mean?” jj says turning her head to look at spencer confusion written on her face. “ exactly! thank you jj!” you reply throwing your hands up.

“ michael miller is our unsub hotch.” spencer says completely ignoring your attempt to reason with him, his eyes stay on hotch waiting for him to snap at you or just lecture you. “ wait a minute i thought michael miller had a solid alibi.” morgan says laying back in his chair resting his arms on the arm rests. “ he does have a solid alibi it checks out-” spencer cuts you off. “ it does not check out!” spencer says.

“ yes it does! hotch we asked his dad who confirmed his son came home at 8:30 pm from football practice.” you say growing impatient looking at hotch, hotch’s eyebrows are furrowed tightly. his arms are still crossed listening to you and spencer bicker back and fourth.

“ just because his dad showed the tiniest bit of concern about his son when the fbi showed up to his doorstep does not make him a reliable source, just because you never had a dad who showed any bit of concern and now when you finally see a dad care about their kid does not mean you should not fall into their trap just because you never had a trap to fall into.” spencer spits out finally looking at you.

he watches as your expression hardens. he watches as humiliation and embarrassment fill your once determined eyes, the determined eyes who tried to reason with spencer at-least 4 minutes ago. 4 minutes, that’s how long it takes for your perspective of someone to change. he watches as your eyebrows tremble, a habit you have when your trying to fight back tears. he watches as your throat trembles too, probably trying to fight back that agonising choke you get when your about to cry.

the entire room goes quiet. spencers gaze remains on you, slowly watching your soul shatter because of his words. your gaze remains on spencer, slowly feeling your soul shatter because of his words.

the door that spencer slammed close 4 minutes ago opens, rossi and emily walking in. “ michael millers alibi checks out. we’ve got pictures of him at football practice from 5pm to 8:25pm. he wouldn’t have had the time to commit the murders.” rossi says opening the door for emily. “ also his teammates described him as an extrovert and outgoing which is not what we profiled the unsub to be.” emily says with her hands inside her pockets nodding looking at everyone surrounding the table.

“ i feel as though we interrupted something.” rossi says eyeing everyone in the room raising an eyebrow in confusion. he could feel the tension. emily could too. which is why she immediately looks over at morgan for answers. morgan looks at her for a split second before returning his gaze on you.

“ y/n-” spencer attempts. he tries to bring himself to take a step towards you, but it’s like his words somehow built a barrier between you and him that he now can’t even physically cross. or maybe he’s just scared that if he takes a step towards you, you’ll take a step back. away from him.

you swallow the gut wrenching feeling of tears crawling up your throat. you look down to your converse. “ i’m gonna go…uhm get coffee.” you say turning around immediately walking towards the door. “ excuse me.” you whisper pushing past rossi and emily.

“ oh wonder boy..” garcia says through the tv screen, her bright purple tinted lips which usually wear a bright smile on her face now wearing a frown. her tone disappointed as she presses her heart eye fuzzy emoji pen into her cheek. “ i uhm did my usual background checking on the uhm..list of potential unsubs and a uhm…scott anderson has a sketchy background. i’ve just sent his file to you my pretties.” garcia says stuttering quite a few times finding it hard to sneak her usually bubbly nicknames into the conversation after what had just happened. “ thank you garcia. jj take y/n and check out scott anderson.” hotch says looking at jj his arms finally by his side.

jj nods standing up walking towards the door “ i-i can go” spencer says turning his body towards jj. “ stay.” hotch replies his voice stern and bold. he looks at spencer his eyebrows furrowed.

jj closes the door. “ sit.” hotch says to spencer pointing to the empty seat at the table, spencer slowly walks towards the seat sitting down. “ you shouldn’t have said that spencer.” hotch says crossing his hands. “ hotch-” spencer attempts but is quickly cut off, “ i’m not finished. I get it. your worried spencer. your scared-”

“ hotch-” spencer is cut off once again. “ you may think your hiding it well spencer but your not. we know the unsub is targeting female victims which have similar features to l/n. if your too close to the case spencer-” it’s spencer’s turn to now cut hotch off. “ but i’m not too close to the case hotch!” spencer replies. he wanted the similarities between you and the victims to only be in his head because he wanted only him, himself to notice the similarities between you and the victims. you both have the same hair color, hair length, both considered to be attractive, both have similar personalities, and similar taste in clothing. he didn’t want it to be true. but now he knows that they are, and they’re not just in his head he’s even more worried.

“ your stuttering spencer. you do that when your worried or nervous.” emily says pulling a chair from the table. spencer shoots his eyes away from hotch to emily’s. his gaze softens a bit, emily’s tone wasn’t like hotchs. it wasn’t as stern or bold. it was rather understanding and gentle. “ i just cant control myself around her.” spencer says looking down at the picture of the fourth victim who had been wearing the exact same pair of converse your wearing now. “ well your going to have to learn how to control yourself pretty boy. you shouldn’t have said that.” morgan says looking at spencer. spencer sighs hiding his face in his hands. “ i just..god i’m so stupid.” spencer groans rubbing his tired eyes.

“ stupidity is what ended my third marriage.” rossi says crossing his hands leaning against the bulletin board with a small chuckle, morgan looks at rossi and laughs. “ well thank god pretty boy isn’t married. he’d be the new rossi.” morgan says tilting his head to the side looking at spencer trying to lighten the mood, spencer who still has his head in his hands. there’s a million thoughts going through his head, all of them are about you. all of them are about how he should apologize. is he even allowed to apologize? will you let him apologize to you? would you accept his apology? what if you didn’t? did he just ruin his friendship with you? no screw friendship, he doesn’t just want to be friends. he wouldn’t be as sensitive as he is to this case if he just wanted to remain friends. he’s in love with you. spencer reid is in love with you. and he just potentially ruined any slight chance of ever having you know that he loves you. just because he’s stupid and didn’t think before he spoke.

“ are you okay?” jj says both hands on the steering wheel turning around to look at you next to her, in the passenger seat. your heads turnt towards the window, your picking at your nails. a habit of yours. you turn to look at jj and nod. “ yeah i’m fine why wouldn’t i be?” you ask tilting your head to the side with a confusing smile. you know exactly why your not okay. but for some reason, you just can’t bring yourself to actually be upset over it. what’s there to be upset about? what spencer said is true. he’s not wrong. why are you making excuses for him? what he said was not okay. totally not okay. why do you have to make excuses for every male figure in your life for when they’ve done something wrong? why do you always make them the victim and you the villain. you just don’t wanna lose them right? because you know that if your the victim and their the villain they’ll never apologise and the entire relationship will disappear, it always does.

“ what spencer said-” jj is talking in that tone, that tone that she would speak in whenever something was wrong. in a motherly kind of tone. you immediately shake your head, “ it’s- it’s fine jj really, i don’t care. can we just please forget it ever happened? lets just work on the case.” you say running a hand through your hair biting your lower lip trying to stop your voice from trembling, you know when your about to cry and you have that heavy feeling in your throat? you swallow it hard. you turn your head to look at the window not waiting for a response from jj. jj clears her throat, “ no yeah of course.” she nods smiling turning her head back around.

“ this should be it…” jj mumbles stopping the car, parked infront of a 2 story cabin. you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door. “ it looks like no one’s home, there’s no car. we profiled that the unsub would have a van or a truck..” jj says closing the car door looking at the house. “ maybe he wouldn’t leave something so valuable to him outside, to the eye of the public. he’s possessive he thinks the entire world revolves around him he probably thinks someone would try to steal it.” you reply reaching in your pocket for your id. jj doing the same thing. you two walk to the front door, you in the front,

you knock on the door. you put your hand against your hip waiting for the door to open. “ we should ask the neighbours. maybe they’ll know-” you knock on the door again. “ scott anderson. fbi.” you say knocking on the door again. jj puts both of her hands on her waist. “ looks like he’s not home-” your cut off by the door swinging open.

you immediately turn your head around. “ scott anderson?” you ask looking at the man infront of you. you know it’s scott anderson, penelope had already sent his id picture on the drive over. he looks at you, then looks at jj. “ who are you..” he says looking directly at jj. “ i’m agent l/n with the fbi and this is agent jareau. do you mind if we come inside?” you ask smiling holding up your id.

he doesn’t even bother looking at your id. “ yeah whatever.” he moves to the side, making room for you and jj. you nod turning around to look at jj. she nods. you step inside jj following you.

“ do you live alone?” you ask analysing the house, its organised. weird for someone that’s his age. “ uhm yeah i do. what’s wrong with that?” he asks crossing his hands. you chuckle, “ no no nothings wrong with that, i also lived alone when i was 17.” you reply smiling. “ i’m 19.” he says looking at you, eyeing you up and down smiling. “ your pretty organised for a 19 year old.” jj says raising an eyebrow also crossing her hands smiling. “ guess i was just raised that way.” he replies rubbing his lips together. you nod. “ how were you raised scott..if you don’t mind me asking.” you say looking around the house. “ yeah scott how did you manage to score such a house at your age. do you work?” jj asks grabbing a picture frame. “ no i don’t work-” he turns to look at jj. “ put that down.” he snaps speed walking to jj. you immediately reach for your gun.

“ right..sorry. you don’t like people touching your stuff.” jj replies throwing her hands up in defeat. he snatches the picture frame. he grabs it caressing it gently, jj looks at you with wide eyes. you raise an eyebrow in confusion. “ scott. why do you have a picture of my colleague framed?” jj asks looking at the frame scott’s holding. your eyes widen.

“ oh god oh god. where’s y/n and jj?” penelope says aggressively tapping on her keyboard. “ what? what’s wrong?” spencer is the first to respond shooting up from the office chair just at the mention of your name. “ they’re at scott anderson’s why?” hotch says turning around, away from the white board to the tv. garcia starts tearing up, “ i-i did some deep digging and scott anderson has a blog about y/n..” garcia says in a shaky tone. no. no. no. no. no not again please.

his heart stopped for a split second. his hand start sweating. the air has been sucked out of his lungs. why is it so hard to breathe? why is there no air to breathe? there’s a million thoughts running through his head, they’re still about you. but now they’re worse. your in danger. your with the unsub. the unsub who has already killed five people. your in the same house with the unsub. the unsub who has a blog dedicated to you. and the last time you saw spencer you were teary eyed. no it can’t be the last time. no. please be safe.

his sweaty shaky hands reach for his phone. he clicks on your contact. hotch grabs his phone and immediately calls jj. spencer immediately puts the phone up against his ear. it rings. rossi and emily immediately stand up, “ penelope send us the address to scott’s house now.” emily says walking to the door. it’s still ringing. spencer starts biting his nails. his hearts pounding. the ringing of the phone case is haunting him. what is happening on the other side of the phone. why aren’t you answering. you always answer the phone. why is it still ringing? y/n why aren’t you answering.

“ god damn it!” spencer shouts into the phone as it keeps ringing. morgan stands up, “ hotch we gotta go.” he says standing up shoving his phone into his pocket.

the ringing stops. spencer’s heart stops. his breathing stops. everyone in the room looks at spencer waiting for any kind of confirmation. “ y/n you’ve gotta get out of there with jj!” spencer says stuttering with a shaky voice. hes scared. hes so so scared. hes never been more scared in his life. it’s quiet. why is it quiet? why aren’t you answering? what’s wrong. god y/n.

“ hey mom.” you reply. spencer takes a deep breath in. he stops biting his nails. he wipes his wet fingers on his pants. his hearts racing. your in danger. why are you calling him mom if your not in danger. oh god. he feels like he can’t breathe again. he can’t focus. he can’t do this. he can’t do this. he can’t do this without you. breathe spencer. she’s in danger spencer. she’s all that matters.

“ y/n. god i…” he chokes. “ you already figured it out didn’t you.” he says his throat feeling scratchy. he hears you giggle on the other side of the phone, your laugh erupts the butterflies in his stomach. under any other circumstances he would absolutely hate the butterflies in his stomach and would be mad at you for making him feel such way. but now they bring a sense of comfort, they make him feel normal for a split second. that this is not that big of a deal, he’s just calling the girl he really likes and he got butterflies from hearing her beautiful laughs.

“ yeah of course. i called aunt lizzie for her birthday mom i’m not stupid.” you respond. god your voice is so beautiful, but he can hear it. he can fear the slight fear in your voice. maybe other people wouldn’t hear it, but he can. spencer can. and it’s killing him. it’s tearing his heart apart. it’s making his legs shake. “ d-did he hurt you- is he gonna hurt you?” spencer says gripping his jeans tightly. he hears you laugh again, “ yeah mom.” you say.

he feels his legs going weak.

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personastrologyhub · 3 months ago

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Degree Theory Series: The Leo Degrees (5°, 17°, 29°): Unveiling the Complexities of Power, Prestige, and Presence

☆ Leo degrees represent a striking influence—one that combines ambition, charisma, romance, and a near-magical allure. The house that Leo is in your chart is reflective of the area of life that you have the potential to receive a lot of attention. It is literally the sign of reaching for the stars. But beneath the well-known themes of fame, leadership, and power, these degrees have deeper, sometimes hidden qualities that shape the lives they touch. Here’s an exploration into these powerful degrees, plus the distinctive flavors they create when combined with different planetary energies.

5° Leo: The Catalyst for Expression and Presence

Keywords: Bold action, self-expression, initiator, elite status, teaching and guidance.

☆° ✩࿐

Personality and Physicality: Known as a degree that heightens presence, 5° Leo lends a dignified, commanding air that can be quite magnetic. David Hasselhoff’s for example has a Venus at 5 degrees of Leo. Back in the day, David was known for his magnetic charm and stage presence. He had set the Guinness world record of the most watched man on Tv. This degree supports his appeal as the central figure of Baywatch, Knight Rider and other things, and it shows his ability to thrive under the spotlight. He had set the Guinness world record of the most watched man on Tv.

5° Leo isn’t just the “leader” degree; it often marks those who naturally attract authority and influence without having to seek it.

Hidden Quality of Resourcefulness: A lesser-known quality of 5° Leo is its connection to resourcefulness in high-stakes situations. Those with this degree on key planets often discover remarkable ingenuity under pressure, especially in challenging or isolating circumstances. To thrive in the spotlight, you have to be very resilient.

17° Leo: The Degree of Visionary Influence and Endurance

Keywords: Legacy, public service, intellectual pursuits, mentorship, teaching roles, family connections.

Social Reach and Legacy: 17° Leo reflects someone whose influence extends over time, resonating through a legacy, particularly through teaching, law, or service roles. the 17th degree is the 2nd highest degree amongst the leo degrees (5, and 29 are the other leo degrees) meaning that it has a “longevity” behind it. There’s often a connection to mentorship or guiding others, and those with 17° Leo placements may be naturally drawn to academia, justice, or philosophical pursuits. They often think in terms of generations and long-term impacts.

Oprah has her MC in 17 degree of Libra.

Elvis Presley is a prominent example of a celebrity with a 17° placement, specifically with his Sun at 17° Capricorn, which is influenced by the “Leo degree” due to degree theory. This degree is associated with lasting fame, a magnetic stage presence, and the ability to create legacy and extend over time. Elvis Presleys music has the ability to transcend time—this aligns with Elvis’s legendary status as the “King of Rock and Roll.” The 17° Leo degree amplifies qualities like charisma, recognition, and impact in the public eye, traits strongly reflected in Elvis’s career and enduring influence in music and culture.

Another example is George Michael, whose Ascendant is at 17° Cancer, lending him a path aligned with Leo qualities—drawing attention, captivating fans, and excelling as a charismatic performer in the entertainment industry. Both figures illustrate how the 17° Leo degree enhances the potential for significant, long-lasting public impact and memorable artistry.

These cases highlight how the 17° degree is seen as one of prestige and enduring influence in charts of famous figures, marking individuals with an aura of distinction and an ability to maintain a lasting legacy in their field.

The Role of Family and Support: This degree frequently connects individuals with family lineage, both in values and sometimes through inheritance or positions of responsibility within family networks. The “father” degree, it suggests an ability to support or uplift family lines or nations—carrying a certain gravitas that inspires collective respect. Just as 17° Leo was prominent in Bill Clinton’s chart, it speaks to enduring influence, as well as the idea of a “national father figure.” Again with Presley he was considered the Father or King of Rock and Roll.

Lesser-Known Influence in Social Structure: Lesser known is 17° Leo’s gift for navigating social structures, from rallying support to surviving intrigue. Individuals with this degree may exhibit a resilient streak, successfully facing threats or challenges within power structures=Much like Elvis who did receive multiple death threats and kidnap warnings, particularly while performing in Las Vegas.

29° Leo: The Degree of Transformative Leadership and Strategic Vision

Keywords: Finality, transformation, intuition, covert planning, prestige, challenging circumstances.

Mystery and Power Dynamics: Known as an “anaretic” degree, 29° Leo carries themes of completion, change, and high-stakes decisions. People with this degree tend to face intense personal or public challenges that demand creative problem-solving and often put them in complex or strategic roles. A bit of a “chameleon” degree, it suggests someone who can operate under the radar and emerge victorious, often as a reformer or innovator within traditional structures. Leaders like Winston Churchill, who had his Moon at 29° Leo, epitomize the strength of this degree. Similarly, Donald Trump's 29° Leo Ascendant underscores a charismatic presence and his controversial but impactful role in the public sphere, navigating complex political power structures. They guy became the president of the United States at one point and is up for office again.

Transformation and Symbolic Rebirth: 29° Leo may indicate the ability to work behind the scenes or in covert ways, potentially in intelligence, diplomacy, or advocacy roles where resilience is paramount. Often, individuals here face life events that force them to “become someone new,” such as a leader rising unexpectedly or a figure dealing with transformative personal setbacks. Just as Churchill rose during Britain’s darkest hour, those with 29° Leo can emerge from crises as symbols of strength and change. his degree also enhances adaptability, suggesting a capacity to emerge stronger after setbacks or public scrutiny. This is also seen in Drake (BBL Drizzy) and Heidi Klum, both with Ascendants at 29°, which contributes to their enduring relevance and adaptability in the ever-changing entertainment landscape.

Lesser-Known Themes of Hidden Loyalty: There’s also a lesser-known aspect of loyalty and readiness to defend others, even to the point of self-sacrifice. This degree attracts followers or allies who support them in unlikely ways, often during critical transitions or public shifts.

Planetary Combinations:

Mercury at 29° Leo: Mercury here indicates someone who speaks with finality and influence, often giving speeches or communications with a lasting impact. They may find themselves in pivotal discussions, historical moments, or transformative media.

Pluto at 29° Leo: This pairing suggests a powerful leader who can influence others profoundly, sometimes by overturning existing power structures. Pluto at 29° Leo is highly transformative, especially in public roles, and may attract both fame and intrigue, giving the individual an almost mythic quality.

Uranus at 29° Leo: With Uranus, there’s a push for radical change and an ability to innovate under pressure. Individuals with this placement can disrupt the status quo effectively and are unafraid to act independently, even if it means losing support temporarily. Their vision is ahead of its time, and they may be involved in pioneering work or historic moments of change.

Hidden Qualities Across the Leo Degrees

Each of these degrees in Leo also carries unique subtleties, especially when it comes to handling public pressure, love for prestige, and overcoming personal trials. Whether seen in how they survive adversities (often with an unexpected inner resilience) or in their commitment to their people or causes, Leo degrees add depth and charisma that’s impossible to ignore.

If you hold one of these degrees in a major placement, consider it a call to embody love, loyalty, and leadership in your unique style. The Leo degree asks for authenticity and confidence, even when the stakes are high.

Observation:

Sun at 5° Leo: A classic position for leaders who are highly visible and admired. The Sun here drives an ambition that others respect, even if they don’t fully understand the drive behind it. There’s a fierce desire to succeed on one’s terms, often in high-profile careers or pursuits.

Moon at 5° Leo: Emotional expression is vital here, with a need to connect in visible, memorable ways. A Moon at 5° Leo can feel happiest when making an impact in social or familial spheres, perhaps guiding or inspiring others. There’s a special talent for evoking loyalty and support from people, often based on an instinctive understanding of group dynamics.

Mars at 5° Leo: Mars here is a warrior spirit that fights with purpose. It’s often associated with a physical stature or confidence that commands space, possibly leading to military or athletic pursuits. There’s a heightened ability to rally others, leading to leadership roles that arise naturally in tense situations.

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neil-gaiman · 1 year ago

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Hello Neil, my name is Zalean. If you have a few minutes, I wanted to tell you a little story. Not really a question and I’m not sure how to use tumblr but I wanted to say thanks so much for coming to Florida a few months back and talking with Art Spiegelman. It was my first time ever figuring out how to buy tickets for something. I lived in, middle of nowhere, Vermont for most my life and had no idea what I was doing, I had never been to anything before, nothing had made me excited enough to do the 5 hour drive. And then you just appeared 20 minutes away from where I am living now.

See, I was just starting to get to know your books and work because I fell in love with Good Omens so deeply when I discovered it during season twos release. Funny thing is, I knew of you all along without even realizing it, Stardust has been my favorite book and movie since I was a kid because it was my dad’s favorite story. Finding out my two favorite things were actually connected, I started trying to get hands on as many of your books as I could. I hadn’t read in years before finding your books. It was eye opening.

The talk event at the Dr.Phillips Center was sold out by the time I knew about it, someone had asked me if I knew of the event when they saw my Good Omens keychains my mom had made me. I called the box office because there is no harm in asking. I explained how I’m an art student at UCF and desperately wanted to be inspired and learn from you both. The customer service people were amazing and ended up calling me back to get me a seat in the orchestra pit before they were released to the public. I drove alone, I walked there alone, I sat alone, and it was worth it. I was so thankful to get a seat and grateful to my professor who was a bit jealous he didn’t know about it but let me leave class early to go because of course the art professor would be understanding for any learning opportunities in the arts. And it was truly wonderful, it seemed real and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want a show. I just wanted to hear, in some sense, that you were like everybody else. I brought a notebook and pen for any information or story’s that I thought made a difference to my little life. The other people around were wonderful, you inspire kind people.

Like I said, I had never been to anything like this and I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know you would have signed books and I only found out because the people next to me came in late. I asked them why they brought the books after it was over and the lights turned on. They did look at me like I had three heads for a moment until they realized I didn’t know there were books to buy, they looked kinda sorry for me but they were so nice. I had never really thought about the importance of someone’s scribble before this but it’s something that proves you were there. It says “Remember when this person made you happy? Remember when they changed your life? Remember when they gave you hope? Look at this and remember.” I hope to see David Tennant and Michael Sheen to get an autograph now that I understand the meaning behind it a bit more but honestly I just love diving into everyone’s projects, the wonder you all create. Oh what fun it is to live a life full of stories!

The people that were sitting next to me let me look at their signed books and hold them. I flipped through some of the big ones, handed them back and expressed my gratitude just to be in the theater. I showed them all my little quotes I wrote down, I never want to forget why I create things and you say so much about never stopping, always creating. Then the women handed me a different book, a smaller book, but when I tried to hand it back, a bit confused, she softly placed it back in my open hands and said “I want you to have it, we have plenty and I want you to love these stories just as much as we do. It’s just starting for you, I want you to remember who started it”. The book she handed me being“The Ocean at the End of the Lane”. The first book I decided to read by you and had just finished a week before. The women had no idea she given me a signed copy of the book that made me want to read again. Your books make the world better. For such a big theater and such a big stage, I just wanted to tell you my little point of view.

The story you told about wishing you enjoyed the past more than you did, I hope you get to enjoy it now, and I hope you want to. And thank you, to you and to Terry Pratchett for creating something special. I convinced my dad to watch Good Omens with me over December break, he loved it.

I forget sometimes that everything is someone's first time, and then I read something like this and feel like I need to remember that better. I'm glad the people beside you were kind.

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 4 months ago

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Kinktober - Day 2

2nd — choking, Lewis Hamilton

The previous day I The next day I Kinktober masterlist I Main list

Cat and mouse. You’d spent your life running from Lewis, all while trying to catch up with him, consider him both some sort of your admiration, an idol, no less but at the same time all you want to do is to beat him up, to be the only one beside Michael Schumacher to match up with him, 7 titles. You did try to put him in the back of your mind, but he was everywhere you went. He is still there on the track, fighting neck to neck with you every weekend. He is there during the drivers’ parade, in the debriefing room, in Monaco, he is even your neighbour. And you hated it, you hated him for having haunted you in your sleep, your mind, even your body almost every second you were awake or asleep. But how can you stop it? You can’t. Not when it comes to Lewis Hamilton anyway. Instead, you have a big fat crush on him.

You’ve felt it for a while now, this strange tension. It’s always been there, bubbling beneath the surface whenever you’re near him. The world sees your rivalry, two fierce competitors battling it out for glory on the track, but they don’t see the real war—the one that takes place inside you every single day. You despise him, don’t you? Or at least, you try to. But there’s something magnetic about him, something you can’t shake. You tell yourself it’s just the competition, that burning desire to be better, to prove that you’re the one who belongs at the top. And yet, it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s the way he carries himself, the confidence in his every move, every word. He doesn’t just race to win—he is the race, the man who’s conquered everything in his path, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t ignore that. You’re used to pressure, to the heat of the moment, to the roar of engines and the sting of sweat in your eyes as you push yourself harder, faster, always looking for that apex. But when it comes to him—Lewis—it’s different. The pressure comes from inside, twisting in your gut, tightening in your chest. It’s like an itch you can’t scratch, a need you can’t quite name. Every glance across the paddock, every shared moment in front of the cameras or behind closed doors feels like an unspoken challenge. And God, you hate it. You hate that he gets to you in ways no one else can. But underneath the frustration, there’s something else—something darker, something that pulls at you in the quiet moments when no one’s looking.

At least that’s what you thought. You thought all your glances were discreet, but he noticed it all. The way your eyes lingered just a little too long when he entered the room. The soft smile that played on your lips when you thought no one was looking. Even the moments when you'd glance away quickly, your pulse quickening, pretending to focus on something else. He saw it all, every flicker of interest, every moment of hesitation. You didn't realize how often his eyes found you, how he'd quietly observe the subtle shift in your expression when your gazes accidentally met. He never said anything. Just let it unfold in silence, a game only he seemed to be playing.

Back to now, you had your hands on your steering wheels, eyes locked onto the track waiting for 5 red lights to go out. There were 5 races left. It is the United States Grand Prix. You knew this was going to be a difficult race but you knew your team was going to get you through the race quickly and safely. Everything felt super surreal to you at the moment. You were ready. You knew this race was going to be a good one. You felt it in your bones. All of a sudden it was “lights out and away we go!”. Everything was going well until lap 49. You and Lewis had been battling all race long. Suddenly, your car was hit from the left side and the next thing you know, you and Lewis were all done for the race, with no points at all. you’re both fuming when you head back to the paddock, Lewis comes to your driver’s room and knocks on the door, which you assume that it’s someone from your team looking for you so you open the door

“What the hell do you want?” you scowl at him.

“An apology would be better, Lewis says, pushing his way into your room while you scoff at him, shutting the door behind you.

“An apology for what? I assume it is you who owes me an apology.”

“You fucked up my race, you took both of us out.”

“Me?! you crashed into me!”

you go back and forth like that for a couple of minutes before your back is slammed against the wall

“God do you ever shut up?” Lewis asks

“Make me then,” you say.

Neither of you could deny the sexual tension between the two of you that had been growing more and more with each race weekend. So when your lips crashed onto one another, neither of you were surprised. You can practically feel the tension still radiating from his body; his muscles taught and flexing, rippling underneath his skin where it was flush against yours. Barley a minute Lewis is now shoving you against the wall.

"You drive me crazy... " He whispers huskily in your ear as his hands slowly trail down your backside, gripping you tightly. Lewis then picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist, carrying you over to the couch, where he gently lays you down.

He crawls over you on the couch, his muscular body pinning you down. Lewis's intense green eyes bore into yours, filled with lust and barely contained desire. “You've been teasing me all season, haven't you?” His voice is low and gravelly as he grinds his hips against yours.

His hands slide under your racing suit, caressing the soft skin of your thighs. Lewis leans down, his lips brushing against your neck as he inhales your scent. “God, you smell incredible…” He places hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse point.

Lewis's hands roam your body possessively as he kisses you deeply, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours. He groans into the kiss, his hardening length pressing insistently against your core through the thin fabric of your racing suit. “I want you so badly..”

“Then have me.” You whisper back while your fingers gripping onto his broad back.

With a growl, Lewis shreds your racing suit, baring your skin to his touch. He rains kisses all over your body, his hands mapping out every curve and contour. When he finally settles between your thighs, he looks up at you with fire in his eyes. “You're mine.”

“I think I have already been yours since before I knew it.”

Lewis's expression softens briefly before a hungry grin spreads across his face. He leans down and kisses you slowly, sensually, as he slowly enters you. He pauses to allow you to adjust before beginning to move, his hips rolling in a rhythm that drives you both wild. “Say it again…”

“I’m yours, Lewis. As long as you have me.”

With a satisfied groan, Lewis buries himself deep inside you, his movements becoming more frantic as he loses himself in the feeling of being reunited with you. He captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounds into you.

“Mine... You're mine…”

You feel a surge of emotion wash over you as you realize that despite the tension between you and Lewis on the track, he still considers you are his. The passion between you intensifies, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer.

“No one else fucks you this good, isn’t that right baby?” Lewis whispers darkly against your ear.

You attempt to sound an answer to his question, but all that ends up leaving your mouth is a pathetic mewl as he fucks you even harder, slamming into you.

One of his hands then snakes to your front, gliding up your body until his fingers wrap around your throat. His eyes are dark with an intense lust, a slight anger that you’d probably find frightening if it wasn’t so arousing.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he seethes. “Use your words,” he commands with unquestionable authority.

His fingers squeeze your throat for a second, a promise of what was to come, a challenge to try and answer his question.

“Y-yes,” you barely manage croak, your voice breathy.

“Yes, what?” He snarls, his teeth scraping across the delicate skin of your ear.

“No one fucks me… fucks me as good as you,” you whisper brokenly, your eyes wide and pleading as you look back at him.

Lewis keeps his hand around your neck as he continues to fuck you. His eyes locked with yours, Lewis tightens his grip on your throat, not enough to cut off your air supply, but just enough to make you feel dominated.

“Fuck, you gonna come, baby. You love it with my hand on your throat, don’t you,” he said.

Your face turns red from the lack of oxygen and the intense pleasure. You nod eagerly, digging your nails into his shoulder. The tension between you two on the track may have been fierce, but in the room, it was even hotter.

Lewis tightens his grip slightly, his muscular arm flexing with the effort. He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he growls. “That's it, take it like the champ you are. I know you can handle it.”

He squeezes your throat a bit harder, cutting off your air supply completely for a few seconds before releasing it. You gasp desperately for breath, your body shaking with the effort. “Fuck, you look so pretty when you can't breathe,” he says, his voice dripping with lust.

Your vision starts to blur and you feel yourself losing consciousness, but the pressure on your cervix and the lack of oxygen keep you on the edge of orgasm.

With a final, brutal thrust, he slams into you and tightens his hand around your throat.Stars explode in your vision as the lack of oxygen and the force of your release hit you at the same time. He collapses on top of you, his breath hot on your neck as he nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder. He loosens his grip on your throat, allowing you to drag in ragged breaths. "Good girl," he purrs softly, planting a gentle kiss on your neck.

He rolls off of you, pulling you close to his sweat-slicked body. His strong arms wrap around you possessively. "You're mine now, you know that? I don't care about the track, about our rivalry. In here, you belong to me."

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niallerspayno · 1 month ago

Text

English Love Affair (frat boy Harry x reader) - Fic Request

Masterlist

Inspired by the song English Love Affair by 5SOS

Request for @purplekimijks: What began as a one-time fling quickly evolves into something more as you and Harry find yourselves seeking each other out for frequent, secretive hook-ups. As Ashton’s sister and a songwriter for 5SOS, the situation grows more complicated by the day. Will you and Harry continue with these fleeting encounters, or will you take the risk and make it something real?

Tags: frat boy Harry x reader, Ashton x sister!reader, smut with plot

Author's note: I unfortunately never really got into 5SOS, which is weird because I saw them open for 1D in 2013 and I'm Australian - just incase I get any details wrong about them

...

The tour bus hums beneath your feet, the steady vibration lulling you into a sense of rhythm as you absentmindedly scribble lyrics in your notebook. Life on the road with 5 Seconds of Summer isn’t always glamorous, but it’s the kind of chaos you’ve grown used to—probably a genetic thing, considering your brother Ashton thrives in it.

Being the band’s unofficial fifth member and go-to songwriter is a role you love. You’re good at it, too—helping the boys find the words to match their stories, giving them the push they need when inspiration runs dry. It’s fulfilling, creative, and keeps you close to your brother.

But if you’re being honest, it’s not just the music that keeps you here.

It’s him.

Harry Styles.

You don’t know when it started—maybe the first time you met backstage at some award show, his charm disarming and his dimples practically illegal. Or maybe it’s been brewing longer, a quiet fascination that finally burst into a full-blown crush when One Direction invited 5SOS to join their tour.

Now you see him almost every day. In rehearsals. At afterparties. Lounging around during those rare, stolen moments of downtime. And every time, you’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

It’s dangerous territory, crushing on someone like Harry. Ashton would lose his mind if he found out, and you can’t even imagine the chaos if the rest of 5SOS or One Direction caught wind. For now, you’re content to steal glances, laugh at his terrible jokes, and feel the thrill of his attention when his green eyes linger just a second too long.

“Daydreaming again?” Michael’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you glance up to find him smirking at you from across the lounge.

“Just working,” you say quickly, holding up your notebook as proof.

“Sure,” Michael teases, waggling his eyebrows. “Working on a song or working on Harry Styles in your head?”

Your face burns, and you throw a pillow at him. “Shut up.”

He laughs, dodging easily, and Ashton walks in, his expression suspicious. “What’s going on in here?”

“Nothing!” you and Michael say at the same time, a little too quickly.

Ashton narrows his eyes, but thankfully, he lets it slide. “Whatever. We’ve got soundcheck in fifteen. Let’s go.”

You gather your things, your pulse racing as you follow the boys out. In the corridor, you almost run into Harry himself, who flashes you that devastating grin and holds the door open for you.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it always does around him.

“Anytime,” he says, his voice low and smooth. His gaze lingers, just for a second, and it’s enough to make your thoughts spiral.

Yeah, this tour is going to be complicated.

…

The music thumps through the walls of the club, loud enough to make your chest vibrate. Ashton and the rest of the boys are deep into their second round of drinks, Michael and Luke shouting over each other about who can chug a beer faster. You should probably intervene before they make fools of themselves, but the atmosphere is charged, and you’re not in the mood to play referee.

Instead, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief against your flushed skin. The alley is dimly lit, the sounds of the party muted as you lean against the wall and take a deep breath.

“You, too, huh?”

The familiar voice makes your stomach flip. You turn your head to see Harry stepping out of the club, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black blazer. His hair is a little messy, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to give a teasing glimpse of the tattoos on his chest.

“Needed some air,” you say casually, though your pulse quickens when he walks closer.

“Same.” He leans against the wall beside you, close enough that his cologne—warm and woody—lingers in the space between you. “It gets a bit… much in there.”

You nod, unsure what to say. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the awareness of his presence is almost overwhelming.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The sounds of the city fill the silence: distant cars, muffled laughter from inside the club, the soft buzz of a streetlamp overhead.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Harry says finally, his voice low.

“Just tired,” you lie, forcing a small smile.

He looks at you, really looks at you, and you feel like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know were there. “You’re not much of a party person, are you?”

“Not really.” You glance at him, trying to keep your tone light. “But it’s a necessary evil when you’re on tour with two bands of extroverts.”

Harry chuckles, the sound soft and warm. “Fair enough. But you do it well. I’ve noticed you’re good at blending in when you need to.”

His words catch you off guard, and you turn to face him fully. “You’ve noticed?”

He shrugs, but there’s a glint in his eye that makes your breath hitch. “I notice a lot of things about you.”

The air between you shifts, charged with something unspoken. His gaze drops to your lips for a split second, and you’re sure he’s about to say something else, but he doesn’t.

Instead, you find yourself closing the gap.

It’s not planned, not even a conscious decision—just a moment of pure impulse. His lips meet yours softly at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But when he pulls you closer, his hand brushing your waist, the kiss deepens.

The world fades away, the sounds of the city and the party melting into nothing as the two of you press closer. There’s a heat, a hunger, that neither of you bothers to hide.

When you finally pull back, breathless, Harry’s green eyes lock onto yours, and there’s a playful curve to his lips.

“Well,” he says, his voice low and teasing. “That was unexpected.”

You laugh softly, the sound nervous but giddy. “Yeah. It… it was.”

But neither of you moves to step away. Instead, he leans in again, his breath brushing your ear.

“Think you can keep a secret?”

Your pulse races at Harry’s question, his breath warm against your skin. You should say something—anything—but all you can do is nod, your body leaning instinctively toward his.

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing just below your ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.”

His confession sends a shiver down your spine. The thrill of his words, combined with the tension that’s been simmering between you for weeks, pushes you over the edge.

“Harry,” you manage to whisper, but it’s less of a protest and more of an invitation.

He takes the hint, his hands finding your waist as he presses you back against the wall. His mouth captures yours again, this time hungrier, deeper, as if he’s been holding himself back and can’t any longer. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping the soft fabric of his blazer as his body pins you in place.

The alley is quiet, the world shrinking until it’s just the two of you. His lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, skimming the sensitive spot just below your ear. You bite back a gasp, the sound catching in your throat, and he chuckles softly.

“You’re so quiet,” he teases, his voice a mix of amusement and desire. “I was starting to think I’d have to work harder.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him back to you.

He grins against your lips but doesn’t argue, his hands sliding down your waist to your hips. The pressure of his touch is firm, grounding, and you feel yourself melting against him.

“Let’s go,” he says suddenly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, his lips slightly swollen from kissing you.

“Go where?” you ask, your voice breathless.

“Anywhere but here.” He nods toward the club. “Unless you want to risk your brother walking out and catching us.”

The mention of Ashton jolts you back to reality for a split second. This is a bad idea—a terrible idea, really—but the way Harry’s looking at you makes it impossible to care.

“Fine,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “Lead the way.”

He takes your hand, his fingers lacing with yours as he pulls you toward the back entrance of the club. The thrill of sneaking off together sends a rush of adrenaline through you, and by the time you make it to his hotel room, you’re both laughing softly, your nerves tangled with excitement.

The door clicks shut behind you, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking at each other. The room is dim, the city lights filtering in through the window casting shadows on his face.

“You sure about this?” Harry asks, his voice low but serious.

You step closer, your hands sliding up his chest. “Are you?”

Instead of answering, he kisses you again, and this time there’s no hesitation. His hands are everywhere—your back, your waist, your thighs—pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. You stumble toward the bed, his jacket slipping off his shoulders and landing on the floor.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you let yourself fall back onto the soft mattress, pulling Harry with you. His weight presses down against you, solid and warm, grounding you in this moment that feels both thrilling and inevitable.

His lips move against yours, hungry and sure, leaving you breathless as his hands slide under your top, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your waist. The heat of his touch sparks a fire that spreads through your entire body, your senses heightened by the closeness of him—his warmth, his scent, the soft rasp of his stubble against your cheek.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, his voice lower this time, tinged with impatience and raw need. His green eyes are darker now, locked onto yours, the question more of a formality than anything else.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you pull him down to you, crashing your lips into his, fingers tangling in his hair as you take what you’ve both been craving all night. It’s messy, hot, and desperate, and you feel his groan reverberate against your mouth as he presses his body firmly against yours, pinning you to the mattress.

The shift is immediate. His hands are on you, rougher now, gripping your waist and sliding down to your thighs with a possessive strength that sends a jolt of arousal through you. He’s not gentle, and you don’t want him to be. You arch into him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he grinds his hips into yours, his hardness pressing against you through the thin barrier of clothing still between you.

“God, you feel so good,” he growls, his voice ragged as his lips trail down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to leave marks. You gasp, your body responding instinctively as heat pools low in your stomach.

“Harry,” you gasp, his name falling from your lips like a plea, and it only spurs him on. He yanks your shirt over your head in one swift motion, his hands immediately returning to your bare skin. His palms are hot, his touch firm as they slide over your curves, fingers digging in just enough to leave a sting that’s more pleasure than pain.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he mutters, his voice rough and breathless as he pulls back just enough to take you in, his gaze hungry and intense.

You don’t give him a chance to say more. Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, tugging it off him in a rush before your fingers are on his belt, working it open with shaking hands. He smirks, the sight of your urgency clearly fueling his own, but he doesn’t stop you, his eyes darkening as you shove his jeans down his hips.

He’s on you again, his body pressing into yours with a weight that feels overwhelming in the best way. His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider as he settles between them, his lips crashing against yours with a bruising intensity.

Your head tilts back against the pillows as he moves lower, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of your chest before his lips trail lower, biting and sucking his way down. Your moan fills the room as he pulls your underwear down with a sharp tug, tossing it aside before his hands are on you again, exploring, teasing, claiming.

When he finally moves back up, his lips find yours again, rough and insistent, and you feel him against you, hard and ready. Your breath hitches as he presses forward, his hand gripping your hip tightly to hold you in place as he pushes into you with one slow, deliberate thrust.

The stretch is overwhelming, and you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as your body adjusts to him. He stills for a moment, his chest heaving against yours as he curses under his breath, his control clearly hanging by a thread.

“Jesus, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice strained. But the pause doesn’t last long. He pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time, and the sharp cry that escapes your lips only seems to fuel him.

The rhythm he sets is relentless, his hips snapping against yours in a way that leaves you breathless. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, tangling in your hair, pinning your wrists above your head as he takes you apart piece by piece.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice rough, and you force your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity there steals what little air you had left, and you feel the raw hunger in the way he looks at you, like he can’t get enough.

The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, skin against skin, and the soft creak of the mattress beneath you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling beneath him as you surrender completely to the heat and intensity of him.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his lips brushing against your ear as he drives into you harder, his grip on your hips almost bruising. And in this moment, you don’t care about anything else—just the way he feels, the way he makes you feel, and the fire that’s consuming you both.

The tension in your body builds with every thrust, every roll of his hips, each movement pushing you further toward the edge. Your nails dig into his skin as your body tightens, every inch of you alive with the electric buzz of him, the heat between you. You can feel him, deep inside you, moving relentlessly, his breath ragged and harsh against your neck.

"Harry..." you gasp, your voice breaking as your body starts to tremble, your chest heaving with the effort to hold on. You’re so close, so close that everything else fades away, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of him and the burning need for release.

"Fuck, I know," he grunts, his fingers gripping your hips harder, his pace quickening, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. His eyes are locked on yours, his face a mixture of concentration and raw desire. "Come on, baby. Let go."

And then, just like that, it snaps. Your body gives way, a wave of pleasure crashing over you, your breath catching as you cry out his name. The world tilts as you lose yourself in him, the intensity of your release leaving you breathless, your body shaking as it waves through you.

Harry’s movements become more erratic, his control slipping as he follows you, his own release tearing through him with a low growl. You feel him pulse inside you, each throbbing wave of his climax pushing you even further into the haze of pleasure, your body still trembling under the weight of it.

He collapses onto you, his chest heaving against yours, both of you slick with sweat, breathless from the overwhelming rush of it all. You lie there for a moment, both of you tangled in the aftermath, the room heavy with the echoes of your connection.

The silence between you is thick, the only sound the frantic beating of your hearts. His hand brushes against your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin there as he raises his head to look at you. There's something almost apologetic in his expression, but also a glint of something deeper—satisfaction, maybe, or desire, or something you can't quite place.

"That was..." he starts, but he doesn’t finish. Instead, he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment, before pulling away slightly to look at you again. "We don't tell anyone about this, right?"

You nod, your fingers lightly tracing the contours of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your touch. "Yeah. No one," you agree, your voice still a little breathless, but with a steady resolve.

His lips curl into a small, almost mischievous grin. "But we can definitely do it again, yeah?" he asks, his voice lowering, as though testing the waters.

You can’t help but smile at the suggestion, your fingers running through his hair as you look up at him, the heat of the moment still lingering. "Definitely," you reply, your voice steady, the hint of a laugh in your tone.

He leans down to kiss you again, soft and slow this time, a promise of more, as both of you settle back into the bed, the world outside forgotten. The night stretches ahead, and in the quiet aftermath, there’s only the unspoken agreement between you—what happened stays between the two of you. But it’s not over. Not by a long shot.

...

You wake up to the soft light of dawn streaming through the window, the quiet hum of the city just beyond the walls of the hotel room. You’re tangled in the sheets, your body still warm from the night before, but there’s an underlying tension creeping in with the awareness of what happened. You blink a few times, the events from last night flooding your mind in vivid flashes—his touch, the way he kissed you, the way your bodies moved together, and the marks he left on you.

You feel his breath on the back of your neck before you even realize Harry’s awake. He’s lying next to you, his arm draped over your waist, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, looking impossibly calm for someone who shared such an intense experience with you.

Your eyes widen when you catch sight of the dark purple marks scattered across your neck, a line of them creeping down toward your collarbone. Your breath catches in your throat as you shift slightly, trying not to wake him. Then your fingers trail down to your hips, where you feel the telltale pressure of his hand—the faint outline of bruises, each one a reminder of the night’s wild intensity.

Panic starts to creep in. You have to hide these. You have to figure out how to sneak back to your room without anyone seeing. You don’t even know why it’s bothering you this much; it’s not like you and Harry made any promises, not like anyone would find out. Still, the idea of the band—especially Ashton—finding out makes your stomach churn.

Carefully, you slip out of the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible, but Harry stirs slightly. You freeze, heart hammering in your chest, but he simply groans softly and rolls onto his back, one hand draped casually over his eyes, completely unfazed. His deep voice, laced with sleep, cuts through the silence.

“Morning,” he says, his tone as nonchalant as ever, like he hasn’t just turned your world upside down.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you stand near the bed, searching for something—anything—to cover the marks. Your mind races, fingers fumbling as you search for a shirt or anything that will help hide the evidence.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice low but teasing, not even glancing your way as he stretches. He’s acting so casually about it, like nothing out of the ordinary happened, like he doesn’t see the way you’re scrambling to cover up.

“Yeah,” you mutter, forcing a laugh, though it’s thin and awkward. You grab your shirt from the floor, pulling it over your head in a hurry. “Just, uh... need to go back to my room. Don’t want anyone to notice.”

Harry finally opens his eyes, his lips curling into a small, apologetic smile as he watches you. He sits up, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, nodding toward your neck and hips, where the marks are still evident. “I didn’t mean to leave them... though, you do look pretty fucking beautiful with them.”

You glance at him, surprised by his tone—genuinely regretful but also teasing, in that way only Harry can pull off. You try not to smile, but it’s impossible not to. The apology, even if wrapped in his usual charm, makes something warm stir in your chest.

“Doesn’t matter,” you shrug, trying to brush it off, even though you’re clearly bothered. You finish pulling on your jeans, quickly tugging the fabric over the marks on your hips. “I’ll figure it out.”

Harry slides closer, his hand reaching out to gently tug your chin so you’re looking directly at him. His expression softens, and he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that’s much gentler than anything from last night—sincere, almost apologetic.

“Next time, I’ll be more careful,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb traces the side of your neck where the marks are, making you shiver. “But I’m not sorry for last night. That was perfect.”

You lean into him, kissing him back for a moment longer before pulling away. "You really have to stop marking me," you tease lightly, but you can’t help but grin. "People are going to ask questions."

He grins back, his lips curving into that devil-may-care smirk. “If anyone asks, we’ll just say we were... being friendly,” he says, his tone playful but laced with that same intensity from the night before.

You laugh softly, but there's a tightness in your chest that you can’t quite shake. As much as you want to be carefree like him, you know the reality of sneaking back to your room is a little more complicated.

“I’ve got to go,” you say, standing up quickly, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation. “Before anyone notices.”

Harry nods, his smirk never fading, his eyes still gleaming with that mixture of mischief and satisfaction. “Don’t worry, babe. I won’t tell anyone.”

You pause, glancing back at him as you reach for the door. “I’ll see you later.”

He leans back on the bed, his hands behind his head, looking completely unfazed by the chaos of the night you both shared. “You know where to find me,” he says, his voice casual, but there’s that familiar undercurrent of promise.

You slip out of the room, your heart pounding, your mind racing. The door clicks shut behind you, and for a moment, you just stand there, breathing in the cool hallway air. It feels like everything just changed, and you’re not entirely sure how to process it. But as you make your way back to your room, you can’t shake the feeling that this won’t be the last time Harry’s hands leave marks on your skin.

...

You walk into the breakfast area, trying to shake off the lingering tension from last night. Harry’s already sitting with a coffee, looking casual as ever. You meet his gaze, but the smile he gives you is knowing, making your pulse race for a second before you force yourself to act normal.

The rest of the band is chatting, and you take a seat, trying to ignore the burn of the marks on your neck and hips. Ashton’s eyes keep flicking to you, the silence between you palpable. You can feel the weight of his stare.

Liam, ever the conversationalist, breaks the tension with an innocent enough question. “Hey, what’s up with you two?” he asks, glancing between you and Harry.

Harry shrugs, cool as ever. “Nothing, mate. Just breakfast.”

You nod quickly, sipping your coffee, trying to seem casual. But Ashton’s quiet. He’s not buying it. His eyes flick to your side, where you shift uncomfortably. “You okay?” he asks, his voice sharp, before glancing at Harry with suspicion.

“I’m fine,” you snap a little too quickly, and Harry intervenes just in time, his voice smooth and easy. “We’re all just adjusting to the time change, right?”

Ashton hesitates but then shrugs it off. The conversation moves on, but you feel like something’s off.

Then Niall spots the marks on your side. “Hey, what’s that?” he asks, pointing. “New ink or something?”

Before you can answer, Louis leans in with a grin. “Bite marks? Who’d you go home with?”

You force a laugh, brushing it off. “Just some random guy from the club. It didn’t mean anything.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “A random guy at the club? Didn’t expect that from you.”

You shrug. “Sometimes you just need to blow off steam.”

Louis teases more, but Ashton’s quiet, his jaw tight as he observes. “Sure,” he mutters, his tone colder. “Nothing.”

You feel the shift in the air, Ashton’s unspoken frustration hanging between you, but you stay silent. Harry gives you a small nod, his eyes locking with yours for just a second before turning back to his coffee.

The rest of the conversation continues, but you can’t shake the feeling that everyone knows—or at least senses—something happened. And you’re left trying to keep it together, even though the heat from last night still burns beneath your skin.

...

A few days have passed since breakfast, and things have shifted, though no one’s mentioned last night’s heat. The band is busy with rehearsals and interviews, and the air between you and Harry feels charged, like electricity just waiting to snap.

That night, after the show, you slip away from the usual after-party chaos. You need to clear your head, to get some space from the noise and the people, but the moment you step outside, your gaze lands on him. Harry’s leaning against the back of the venue, hands shoved in his pockets, watching the stars like he’s waiting for something—someone.

You’re not sure what pulls you to him, but you find your feet moving before you can stop them. When he sees you, that smirk appears, the one that you know so well, and his eyes light up.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” he says, his voice smooth but with a hint of playfulness.

You stop in front of him, the cool night air biting at your skin. "Couldn't sleep," you reply, your heart already picking up pace as he steps closer.

"Couldn’t sleep, huh?" He steps forward, his hand brushing against yours. The simple touch sends a wave of heat through you, making it impossible to ignore the tension between you two. “I think I might be able to help with that.”

The words hang in the air, thick with meaning, and without thinking, you close the distance between you. His lips find yours almost instantly, pulling you into him. The kiss is hungry this time, no teasing, just raw need.

His hands are on your body, pushing you against the cold brick of the building, his lips trailing along your jawline, down your neck. Every movement is deliberate, urgent. You gasp when his teeth graze your skin, a rush of heat flooding your veins. You can feel him hard against your stomach, and it makes you dizzy.

“Right here?” you ask breathlessly, your hands running over the muscles of his back, the tension in his body matching your own.

He looks at you, his green eyes dark and intense, a spark of mischief dancing in them. “Why not?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s just us.”

You don’t hesitate. With a quick move, your hands are tugging at the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion. His skin is warm under your fingers, and your breath catches when his lips find yours again, harder this time.

You can’t keep up with the speed of it, the way he’s pushing you toward a part of the alley where the shadows swallow you whole. His hands move over your body, finding the zip of your jacket and pulling it down. Every touch, every movement sends you spiraling. There’s no waiting this time, no slow build-up. It's frantic, raw, like you’re both trying to chase the same thing.

You help him out of his jeans, the fabric sliding off his legs just as you pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. The cool air hits your bare skin, but Harry's warmth, the heat of his body, is enough to make you forget the chill.

With a sudden, fluid motion, he lifts you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrap around his waist. His lips are back on yours, and you can feel the intensity building again, the desperation of it. You feel his cock against you, and a shiver runs through you at the feel of him, so close, so desperate.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as his hands find their way to your hips, guiding you toward him. The way his fingers dig into your skin makes your heart race even faster.

The way he enters you, quick and relentless, takes your breath away. The world narrows down to the sensation of him filling you, the rhythm of his thrusts, the pressure in all the right places. You meet him with equal urgency, the rhythm between you sharp and frantic.

It doesn’t take long for the heat to build, for the world to go blurry and insubstantial. You’re caught in the force of it, lost in the way his body moves against yours, in the sound of his breath, his low groans as he pushes deeper.

It’s raw, fast, just what you both need to feel alive. The noise around you fades into nothing. All that exists is him—his touch, his body, the overwhelming heat that’s too much and not enough at the same time.

And when you reach the edge, when everything seems to come apart at once, you feel him release into you, his grip tightening as he lets out a low, guttural sound that makes you dizzy. It crashes over you like a wave, pulling you under, and you cling to him, riding the wave of pleasure until it finally fades.

You both stand there for a moment, catching your breath, leaning against each other for support. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, still breathing heavily. “You good?” he asks, his voice soft but rough from the intensity of it all.

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him, feeling the aftermath of everything. You didn’t know it would feel this good—this easy, this undeniable. But it does.

“I’m good,” you reply, your hands still on his chest, feeling his heartbeat match your own.

He smirks again, leaning down to kiss you one more time, his lips soft now, slower, almost tender. "This isn't over," he murmurs against your lips. "We’re not done yet."

You pull back slightly, looking at him with a knowing smirk of your own. "I think we both know that."

...

A few days later again, and the night is loud, the music and chatter from the party blending with the thrumming bass of your own pulse. You're moving through the crowd, adrenaline pulsing, and you know exactly where you're heading. You don’t need to find him—Harry’s always in the same spot, tucked away from the chaos, waiting for the perfect moment.

You don’t waste time looking for him. As soon as you find him, you step into his space without hesitation. He’s leaning against the wall near the back of the venue, his eyes immediately finding you as you approach. The air between you thickens, a knowing tension hanging heavy in the seconds before you speak.

He smirks, his lips curling, but his eyes are dark with something more dangerous. “You alright?” His voice is low, deliberate, the edge of it making your pulse quicken.

You don’t answer with words. You reach up, your fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, and pull him into a hard, bruising kiss. The kind that burns, urgent and hot. No hesitation. No sweet words. You’ve had enough of waiting, of being passive.

Harry’s hands find your waist, but you don’t give him the chance to pull you closer. Instead, you shove him back, pinning him against the wall with your body. His breath hitches, and for a moment, you feel his control slipping.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “Not this time,” you murmur, your voice rough with desire. “I’m in charge tonight.”

Harry’s lips part, a flicker of something dark passing through his gaze. He’s caught off guard for a second, but the challenge only fuels him. He smirks, but it’s different now—almost predatory. “You sure about that?”

Without answering, you grab his wrist and tug him toward the back hall. There’s a small storage cupboard just around the corner, hidden from the rest of the crew. You reach it quickly, slipping inside with Harry close behind you, your back pressing against the cool metal door.

The moment the door closes behind you, it’s like the world shrinks to just the two of you. There’s no one around to stop it, no one to see what happens next. And that’s exactly what you want.

You waste no time, pushing him up against the shelves, the sound of metal scraping against the wall echoing in the small space. Your hands are on him instantly, pulling at his jeans, your mouth on his neck, the heat between you rising fast. There’s no teasing, no soft caress—just the immediate pressure of wanting him, needing him, right here, right now.

Harry’s hands come to your hips, fingers digging in as he tries to guide you, but you won’t let him. You’re not here for him to control. You kiss him again, harder this time, your hands undoing his belt, unzipping his jeans with quick, practiced movements. When you pull him free, his breath catches in his throat, and you feel him twitch under your touch.

“You think you can just take over?” Harry’s voice is low, rough, and it makes your pulse race even faster.

“You’re about to find out,” you respond, your voice steady despite the heat building inside you. You drop to your knees in front of him, not wasting a second before you take him in your mouth. It’s quick, sharp, the way you want it. His groan fills the small space, and you feel the way his fingers tighten in your hair, pulling you closer.

You know he’s holding back, fighting against the rush of pleasure, but you won’t give him the chance to regain control. You move faster, harder, your mouth working him while your hands hold his hips still, forcing him to take everything you give him.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, his voice strained, low. His grip on your hair tightens, his chest heaving as he struggles to stay in control. “You’re gonna make me lose it.”

You look up at him, meeting his darkened gaze, and you can see the struggle in his eyes. It’s almost like he wants to push you away, take the lead again, but he can’t. Not now. You’re too far in control. You pull away for a moment, and his eyes flicker to yours with frustration.

But before he can say anything, you grab his wrist and pull him into the corner of the cupboard. The cramped space forces you both closer, heat between your bodies rising by the second. You push him back against the shelves, your hands sliding over his chest before you drop to your knees again, taking him in your hand, guiding him where you need him most.

This time, there’s no slowing down. You lower yourself onto him in one quick motion, feeling the stretch of him fill you completely. The angle is different, sharper, and the way he groans under you sends a thrill of power through you. You move against him, setting the pace, your body riding him with the urgency of a fire you can’t put out.

His hands grip your hips, but you don’t let him take over. You fuck him harder, faster, feeling the pull of your body tightening with each movement. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the small space, your breath coming in quick bursts, matching the frantic rhythm between you.

“You feel so fucking good,” Harry mutters, his voice low and raspy as his hands grip your waist, pulling you even closer. He’s close, you can feel it. But you don’t stop. You drive yourself harder onto him, taking him deeper with each thrust.

The heat builds, pressure coiling tighter and tighter until, with one final, sharp push, you both come undone. The force of it takes you by surprise, your body trembling as you collapse against him.

You’re both breathless, sweaty, and still reeling from the intensity. Harry holds you close for a moment, his hands running up and down your back, trying to steady both of you. You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a smirk.

“You didn’t think I could take control, did you?” you tease, your voice husky with satisfaction.

Harry chuckles, his lips brushing your forehead as he presses a soft kiss there. “You fucking blew me away, love,” he mutters, his voice filled with admiration and something else—something you can’t quite place.

You smile against his chest, the rush of power fading as you both come back down. You’re not done, not by a long shot. But for now, you both stay there in the cramped storage cupboard, tangled in each other’s arms, letting the aftermath wash over you.

For now, it's just you and him.

...

The next day, you walk into your hotel room, exhausted from the day's events, only to find Harry waiting for you. The door clicks shut behind you, and before you can say anything, he’s there, stepping toward you with that same confident smirk on his lips. His eyes are dark, and his stance says it all—he’s taking control again.

You try to keep your cool, but your pulse is already quickening. You hadn’t expected him to follow you, hadn’t thought he would be here, but now that he is, there’s no denying what’s about to happen.

“Still thinking about last night?” he asks, voice low and teasing, as he reaches you in two strides.

You can barely find the words. All you can do is stare back at him, your body reacting before your brain can catch up. “I thought we agreed—”

“We did,” he cuts you off, his hand brushing lightly against your arm, sending a shiver through you. “But I think it's my turn again.”

His mouth is on yours before you can protest. It’s a demanding kiss, his lips parting yours with purpose. His hands quickly make their way to your body, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the heat of him, the hard press of his chest against yours. There’s no room for hesitation, no time to think. He knows what he wants, and he's making sure you know it, too.

“Take your clothes off,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to let you breathe, but his eyes never leave yours.

Your body moves almost involuntarily, your shirt falling to the floor as he watches, his gaze intense. There’s something about the way he looks at you now that sends a rush of heat to your core. You can feel your body responding before you even realize it, your breath catching in your throat as he moves closer.

With one swift motion, he pushes you back toward the bed, never breaking eye contact, his hands on your waist, guiding you down. You’re almost powerless against his grip, the way his hands are everywhere, touching, exploring, pulling you closer.

"Stay still," Harry growls as he hovers over you, his lips trailing down your neck. His touch is rough, deliberate, his hands gripping you like he owns you. You try to fight it, try to hold on to some sense of control, but it’s impossible.

His mouth moves to your neck, biting down hard enough to make you gasp, leaving marks, branding you in a way that only he can. "You’re mine, remember that," he mutters against your skin, before trailing his lips lower, down your chest.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, his fingers are at your waist, slipping under your waistband. You tense at the suddenness of it, but there’s no stopping him. He doesn’t give you a chance to breathe before he's moving, quickly and efficiently, pulling you closer, his mouth returning to your skin.

“Missed this,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding over your hips, his touch like fire.

He flips you onto your stomach before you can even react. His hands grip your hips, pulling them up, positioning you exactly the way he wants you. You brace yourself, knowing what’s coming. It’s not gentle. He’s not gentle. His hand smacks against your ass, hard enough to sting, and you gasp.

“Don’t move,” he growls, his voice rough as he enters you in one swift motion. The force of it makes you cry out, the suddenness taking your breath away.

He doesn’t wait. His thrusts are relentless, harsh, driving into you with a power that has your body shaking. There’s nothing soft about it. Nothing tender. It’s all control, all power, and you can’t help but give into it, letting him take you in a way that only he can. The bed creaks beneath you, his hand still gripping your hip with a bruising force, and the sound of his skin meeting yours fills the room.

He’s rough, pushing you to the edge, your body moving with his, the tension building in your stomach. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his pace quickening. The marks on your neck throb with every movement, the bites and bruises adding to the intensity. You can feel him everywhere, his hands, his mouth, his body against yours.

It’s not long before you feel the tension snap, your body clenching around him as you cry out, your release crashing over you. Harry doesn’t stop. He keeps going, chasing his own release, his grip tightening as he finishes with a low groan, his body shuddering against yours.

He stays inside you for a moment, his hands resting on your hips, before he pulls out slowly. You collapse onto the bed, breathless, the marks on your neck and hips still stinging with the reminder of what just happened. He doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to the marks he left, his lips lingering on your skin.

"Next time, don’t try to fight me," he murmurs, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll make sure you remember who’s in charge.”

You can’t help but shiver at the thought, your body still tingling from the aftermath. Harry pulls away, his expression smug as always, but there’s something in his eyes that tells you this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

...

The night air is thick with the promise of something to come, the city lights flickering below as the storm clouds gather above. You’ve been feeling the electricity between you and Harry all evening, the kind of tension that only seems to grow the longer you spend together. Tonight, something is different—there’s an undeniable pull that neither of you can ignore.

You’re in Harry’s hotel room, lounging on the couch, the hum of the city barely reaching your ears through the thick glass windows. Outside, the wind picks up, and you catch the first few drops of rain against the glass. You glance over at Harry, and your heart races at the sight of the mischievous grin that’s spreading across his face.

“You know,” he starts, voice low and tempting, “I’ve got a better idea than staying in here.”

Before you can ask, he’s already pulling you to your feet, his hand gripping yours with a firm urgency. The way his eyes glint with intent sends a thrill running through you, your pulse quickening. Without a word, he leads you to the door, and your stomach flips with the knowledge of what’s about to happen.

As you step into the hallway, the sound of rain grows louder, and Harry’s grip tightens around your wrist, guiding you toward a hidden staircase. “You’ll see,” he murmurs, a devilish smile tugging at his lips.

The air is charged with something unspoken, and as you ascend the stairs, you can feel the growing anticipation, your heart thumping in your chest. The storm outside is starting to pick up, a low rumble of thunder echoing in the distance. As you reach the rooftop door, Harry opens it, and the full force of the rain hits you—cold and sharp, the droplets crashing down as you step onto the wet rooftop.

The view is breathtaking, the city sprawled out beneath you, the sky above heavy with rain. You can hear the sound of water pounding against the pavement, but it doesn’t drown out the rush of your heartbeat as Harry turns to face you. His lips are on yours before you can even think, hot and insistent despite the cold rain soaking through your clothes.

“You’re crazy,” you murmur between kisses, your hands gripping his shirt as the rain drenches you both.

“You have no idea,” Harry replies, his breath hot against your ear. He pulls back for a moment, looking down at you with that smirk of his. “Let’s take this somewhere... a little more private.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabs your hand and leads you toward the far side of the roof, where a small, secluded corner offers some shelter from the storm. The wind howls around you, but the heat between you both only intensifies. Harry’s fingers work their way down your body, pulling you closer, your breath coming faster.

He presses you against the wall, his lips finding yours once more in a kiss that’s rough, desperate. His hands slide under your clothes, the cold rain making his touch even more electric against your heated skin. There’s no teasing this time—he’s all urgency, a desperate need that matches the pounding rain around you.

“Harry,” you gasp, your hands pushing his shirt off, “we shouldn’t be—”

But you’re cut off by his mouth trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands push you further against the wall. His words are muffled against your skin. “We don’t need to care about that now, do we?”

The adrenaline is coursing through your veins as you feel his hands tugging at your clothes, eager, impatient. The rain pelts down harder, drenching both of you, but it only makes everything feel more intense—more real. You’re soaked, and yet there’s nothing about the cold that can stop the heat building between you two.

He drags you up against him, his lips moving with feverish need, kissing you in the rain like it’s the only thing that matters. You can barely keep up as he lifts you, pressing you against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he pushes you further into the corner.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Harry mutters, his voice rough and low as he grinds against you. His hands roam, exploring, pulling you closer as if he can’t get enough. You respond with equal hunger, the rain streaming down your face, the world falling away as you lose yourself in him.

His lips trail down to your neck, biting into your skin, leaving a mark that’s sure to last. The cold rain and the heat between you are at odds, yet they make everything feel more electrifying. You can’t stop your own moans, your fingers tangled in his wet hair as you pull him closer.

“Harry,” you whisper, your voice breaking as he moves faster, more urgently, each thrust more demanding than the last.

With each breathless moment, you know this won’t be the last time you end up like this—caught between the madness of the storm and the chaos of everything you two are. You’re both drenched, but it doesn’t matter. The rain may fall, but it’s the fire between you that keeps you both burning, relentless, until the world outside seems to disappear.

...

A few weeks have passed since that first hookup with Harry, and the tension between the two of you has only grown. The encounters have become more frequent, more intense. Sometimes it feels like there’s no hiding what’s between you, even though you’re doing your best to keep it under wraps. Harry’s smirks have become a constant, and the moments when he looks at you with that knowing glint in his eyes have started to make your stomach flip every time.

The bands—5SOS and One Direction—have started picking up on it, though no one’s come right out and said anything yet. There’s an unspoken feeling in the air, a shift in the dynamic, but everyone’s too polite—or too unaware—to confront it directly. The only one who seems to have picked up on something more than the others is Ashton. He’s been quieter, his eyes lingering on you with that concerned look you’ve come to recognise. He’s your brother, and you know him well enough to know that he senses something, but hasn’t quite put his finger on it.

You’re sitting backstage, your guitar resting on your knee, the hum of voices and instruments in the background. You’ve been working on a new song—one that’s personal, raw, and a little too close to the truth for comfort. The lyrics have poured out of you, each word more revealing than the last. It’s about what’s been happening with Harry, about the passion, the uncertainty, and the way he makes you feel all at once. You’ve titled it “English Love Affair,” a playful nod to the chaos of your tangled situation.

It’s time to show the guys. The atmosphere is a bit lighter today, everyone milling around in a relaxed mood after a long rehearsal. You grab your guitar, your fingers hovering over the strings as you make your way to where 5SOS and One Direction are gathered. Ashton notices you first, giving you a small smile, though his eyes still hold that familiar concern. The others are scattered around the room, laughing, teasing, but there’s a flicker of interest when they see the guitar in your hands.

“Got something to share, love?” Louis calls out from across the room, his voice loud and playful.

“Yeah, she’s been working on something,” Niall adds, eyeing you curiously.

You take a deep breath, nerves fluttering in your stomach. You’d been writing for months, but this one—this one feels different. The song is about Harry. About all the emotions, the heat, the connection, and the chaos of what you two have been doing. You’re not sure if you’re ready to show them yet, but if anyone’s going to understand, it’s them. You know how to separate your personal feelings from your music, but with this song, it’s a little harder to mask it all.

“Yeah,” you reply, strumming a few notes to test the sound, “it’s... a new one.”

Ashton steps forward, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall. His eyes are on you, searching, but there’s a quiet understanding there, even if he’s not sure what’s going on. You meet his gaze, offering a quick smile before looking down at your guitar.

The guys quiet down as you start to play, the melody flowing easily as you strum the chords. Your voice fills the space, the words slipping out with a raw honesty that makes your heart race:

“It started on a weekend in May I was looking for attention, needed intervention Felt somebody looking at me With a powder white complexion, feeling the connection

The way she looked was so ridiculous Every single step had me waiting for the next Before I knew it, it was serious Dragged me out the bar to the back seat of her car”

As you sing, the room grows quieter. The words, the rawness, the honesty—it’s clear this is something personal, something deeper than the usual pop tunes they’re used to hearing from you. You continue, each verse building with the tension that’s been hanging between you and Harry:

“When the lights go out, she's all I ever think about The picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain I can't forget, my English love affair Today, I'm seven thousand miles away The movie playing in my head of a king size bed means I can't forget My English love affair My English love affair”

The last chord rings out, and the room is silent for a moment. You lower the guitar, waiting for their reaction, your heart thudding in your chest. Ashton is the first to speak, his voice quiet but steady.

“So, what’s this really about?” he asks, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and something else—something you can’t quite read.

You don’t know how to answer. The song is about him, but it’s not. It’s about the complications, the passion, the messiness of what’s been happening between you two. It’s about more than just sex—it’s about feelings, connection, confusion. But you know the guys won’t get that. They’ll just hear the lyrics, the heat, and they’ll know. They’ll know exactly what you’ve been hiding.

You hesitate for a second, then shrug, trying to play it off. “It’s just a song. You know, inspiration. Whatever comes to mind.”

But Ashton doesn’t seem convinced. His gaze sharpens, and you can feel him trying to decipher what’s going on. The others, though, are still taking it in, the intensity of the lyrics lingering in the air.

“I mean, it sounds like something... more than just a song,” Luke says, his tone casual but with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Yeah, you’re not fooling anyone,” Michael adds with a smirk.

You try to laugh it off, but Ashton’s stare is unwavering. He’s not buying it. He knows something’s up, and though he’s not pressing you for answers, you can feel the weight of his silence.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just some fun lyrics.”

But in the back of your mind, you know that everything is far from just “fun” anymore. The song says it all, even if you’re not ready to admit it.

...

It’s late, long after the song reveal. The buzz of everyone’s reactions still lingers in the air, but you’ve distanced yourself from the others, needing a moment alone to process it all. You’re sitting in the corner of your hotel room, the soft hum of the city filtering through the window. The lyrics you poured out have left you raw, the reality of what you’ve been doing with Harry settling heavily in your chest.

Writing the song made you realize something you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge before: you want more. This—whatever this thing is between you and Harry—isn’t enough. It’s thrilling, electric, and addictive, but it’s not real. And you can’t keep letting it consume you if it’s never going to be anything more.

The knock at your door startles you. You already know who it is before you even open it. Harry stands there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his signature smirk in place. But there’s something more in his eyes tonight—a flicker of something softer, almost vulnerable.

“You were brilliant today,” he says, his voice low. “The song... it’s incredible.”

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice quiet but steady. You step aside to let him in, but as you close the door behind him, you already know how this conversation will go.

Harry wastes no time. The moment you’re alone, he steps closer, his hands finding your waist as his lips brush against your neck. “You know,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, “I can’t stop thinking about that song. About you.”

You place your hands on his chest, stopping him gently but firmly. “Harry,” you say, your voice soft but resolute.

He pauses, pulling back slightly to look at you. His brows furrow, and you can see the confusion in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I can’t do this anymore,” you say, your words steady but heavy with meaning.

His hands drop from your waist, and he steps back, his expression shifting to something you can’t quite read. “What do you mean?”

You meet his gaze, determined not to waver. “I mean this. Us. These... hook-ups, the sneaking around. It’s not enough for me, Harry. Writing that song—it made me realize I want more. I can’t keep doing this if it’s never going to be anything real.”

Harry’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he might argue. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You know how complicated this is,” he says, his voice quieter now. “With the bands, the press... everything.”

“I know,” you reply, your tone softer but still firm. “But that doesn’t change what I want. I can’t keep being this... secret. If you don’t want more, then we need to stop.”

The room feels heavy, the weight of your words hanging between you. Harry looks at you, his green eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right thing to say. But he stays silent, his hesitation speaking louder than any words could.

You feel your chest tighten, but you force yourself to stay strong. “I care about you,” you continue, “but I can’t keep pretending this is enough for me. So unless you’re ready to make this real, we go our separate ways.”

Harry’s gaze drops to the floor, and you can see the conflict written all over his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I mean it, Harry,” you say, your voice breaking slightly. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He looks back up at you, and for a moment, you think he might say something—anything—to fight for you. But instead, he nods, a small, almost imperceptible gesture.

“Alright,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart aches, but you know you’ve made the right choice. You step back, giving him the space to leave, and after a long, silent moment, he does. The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving you alone in the quiet room.

You sit down on the edge of the bed, your emotions swirling as you try to process what just happened. It hurts, but deep down, you know you deserve more. You deserve someone who isn’t afraid to love you out loud, someone who will choose you without hesitation.

And if Harry isn’t ready to be that person, then it’s better this way.

...

The greenroom hums with pre-show energy—chatter, guitar tuning, the low buzz of excitement. You sit on the couch, your notebook resting on your lap, though the words you’re scribbling barely register. The tension in your chest is suffocating. Since giving Harry your ultimatum, he hasn’t acted on it, and it’s tearing you apart. Worse, the teasing from both bands has started to escalate as they slowly piece things together.

“So, Y/N,” Louis calls out, his grin mischievous, “who’s the muse behind your little ‘English Love Affair’ masterpiece?”

Your head snaps up, heat crawling up your neck. “It’s just a song,” you reply quickly, forcing a light tone.

“Sure,” Niall drawls, smirking. “Except it sounds like someone’s been dragging you up staircases and kissing you in the rain. Pretty specific, if you ask me.”

Michael leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “And the sudden obsession with scarves? You trying to start a trend or cover up some marks?”

Liam chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Definitely the latter,” he murmurs, though there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“I knew something was up,” Luke adds, his teasing smirk widening. “You’re glowing, Y/N.”

“Alright, alright,” Calum cuts in, laughing. “Who’s the mystery guy? Come on, spill.”

The room falls quiet as everyone turns their attention to you. Your heart pounds, panic tightening your throat. Before you can stammer out a response, Ashton’s voice cuts through the noise.

“That’s enough,” he snaps, his tone sharp and unyielding.

All heads swivel to him, the easygoing atmosphere evaporating. He pushes off the wall where he’d been leaning, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes dart between you and Harry, narrowing as the pieces click into place.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Ashton’s voice is low, but the anger simmering beneath it is unmistakable.

Your stomach twists as the room goes deathly silent. Harry, sitting on the armrest of a nearby chair, stiffens but doesn’t look away.

“Ashton—” you start, your voice trembling, but he holds up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t,” Ashton says, his gaze locked on Harry now. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Harry rises to his feet, his expression calm but guarded. “Ashton, I—”

“You’ve been sneaking around with my sister,” Ashton interrupts, his voice rising. “Sleeping with her behind everyone’s back? Leaving marks all over her? And now you’re stringing her along like she’s some casual hookup?”

Harry’s jaw tightens. “It’s not like that,” he says firmly.

“Oh, really?” Ashton’s laugh is cold and bitter. “Because it sure as hell looks like you’re screwing her over—physically and emotionally—while you figure out whatever it is you want.”

“Ashton, stop!” you plead, stepping forward, but Zayn gently places a hand on your arm, holding you back.

“Let them talk it out,” Zayn says softly, though his dark eyes are watchful.

Harry steps closer to Ashton, his voice tight but steady. “I care about her,” he says. “More than you can imagine.”

“Then why are you hurting her?” Ashton demands, his face red with anger. “You’re leaving her bruised, confused, and heartbroken, Harry. That’s not love—that’s you being a selfish prick.”

“I know I’ve messed up,” Harry snaps back, his composure finally cracking. “I know I’ve handled this all wrong. But I’m not using her. I’d never do that to her.”

Ashton scoffs, his fists clenching at his sides. “You already are. If you cared about her, you’d stop treating her like some dirty little secret and give her the respect she deserves. She’s not just some girl you can screw around with—she’s my sister.”

Harry flinches at that, the weight of Ashton’s words visibly sinking in.

The tension is suffocating, the room silent except for the heavy breaths of the two men squaring off. Finally, Louis breaks the silence with an awkward cough. “Well… this is fun,” he mutters, earning a glare from both Ashton and Harry.

“Ashton,” Liam says gently, stepping forward. “Maybe give them a chance to work this out?”

“There’s nothing to work out,” Ashton retorts, his eyes narrowing. “Harry knows what he needs to do. Either step up or stay the hell away from her.”

“Ashton, I can handle this,” you say, your voice trembling but firm.

Ashton looks at you, his expression softening slightly, though the anger in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I hope so, Y/N,” he says quietly. “Because you deserve better than this.”

He turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The echo rings out in the silence, leaving everyone in a tense, uneasy stillness.

Harry turns to you, his face unreadable. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft.

You nod, though your chest feels tight. “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the floor. Because the truth is, neither of you are okay.

...

The steady patter of rain against the hotel window is the only sound in the room as you sit on the edge of the bed, your legs crossed, your fingers lightly tapping the sheets. You’ve been staring at the door, thinking about everything that’s happened—the conversation with Ashton, the way he confronted you, and how much of your own behavior you’ve been running from.

When the knock comes, you know it’s him.

“Come in,” you call out softly, your heart thudding in your chest.

The door creaks open, and Harry steps inside, looking hesitant but determined. His hair’s damp from the rain, his jacket clinging to his shoulders. For a moment, he doesn’t move, just looks at you, eyes searching, waiting for permission.

He steps closer, his voice low when he speaks. “I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. For the way I’ve been handling this... or not handling it.”

You don’t respond immediately, your mind racing with the weight of everything. You’ve been torn in so many directions lately, guilty for the way you’ve been playing this game with him, unsure if you were using him to fill a void, or if it was something deeper.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were nothing more than a distraction,” Harry continues, his voice thick with sincerity. “But I’ve been acting like I don’t care about you, and I do. I care about you more than I’ve let on.”

You take a slow breath, looking up at him. “I’ve been stringing you along too, haven’t I?” you say quietly, the guilt surfacing. “I let things go on like this—casual, no strings, knowing full well that I wanted more, but not giving you a chance to show it. I made it so easy for you to stay at arm’s length, but I don’t want that anymore.”

Harry’s face softens, and he steps closer, kneeling in front of you. His hands hover near yours before finally resting gently over them. “I’m glad you said that,” he admits, his voice thick with emotion. “Because the truth is, I’m scared too. Scared of what this means for us, for the band, for everything. But what I’m not scared of is you. I don’t want it to just be a fling anymore. I want this. I want you. For real. Not just when it’s convenient or when we’re sneaking around.”

Your heart flutters as you take his words in, your fingers curling slightly around his. You’ve heard him say things like this before, but now—this feels different. There’s no more running, no more hiding.

“I want that too,” you say softly, your voice steady, though a hint of uncertainty lingers. “But we both know this isn’t easy. I can’t keep doing this with you unless it’s real, Harry. No more games, no more keeping it quiet. If you’re in this, then I’m in it too. But I can’t keep pretending, not anymore. And if you can’t do that, then we’ll have to go our separate ways.”

Harry swallows, his gaze intense as he watches you. He’s not looking at you with the same playful glint as before. This time, it’s sincere, the weight of his words matching the look in his eyes.

“I’m in it,” he says quietly, nodding. “For real. I want you, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, to show you it’s real. I’m not backing down this time.”

You take a deep breath, your chest tightening with relief. There’s something so final about his words, something that makes you feel like you’re stepping into a new chapter.

“Okay,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “No more pretending. We do this, or we don’t. But I’m not looking back.”

He leans into your touch, pressing his lips to your palm gently. “I don’t want to look back either.”

The moment stretches between you, the weight of the words still lingering, but now there’s a sense of peace—a promise that this, whatever this is, will be real.

You lean in, closing the distance, your lips brushing over his in a kiss that’s softer than the ones before, but carries the weight of something much more substantial. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“We’ve got this,” he says quietly, a hint of a smile curving on his lips.

The quiet between you both is comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding. For once, there’s no rush. No expectations. Just the two of you, finally on the same page. Harry stays close, his hands gently brushing against yours as he leans back against the bed, pulling you with him. You settle into his arms, your body fitting perfectly against his.

The only sounds in the room are the soft rustle of the sheets and the gentle rhythm of your breaths. Harry’s fingers trace small circles along your back, as if memorizing the feel of you in his arms, and you do the same, your hand resting over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice low, a little hoarse from the emotion of the conversation, though it still holds that warmth you’ve always loved.

You nod, lifting your head slightly to look at him. “Yeah. I’m good. It feels like… everything makes sense now. Like I’m not pretending anymore. Like this is real.”

His lips curl into a soft smile as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m glad,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I want you to know, Y/N, that this is real for me. All of it.”

The words linger between you both, but this time, they don’t feel heavy. They feel freeing. The quietness of the room feels like a safe cocoon, a place where nothing needs to be rushed, where there are no games, no pressure. Just the quiet rhythm of the two of you, finding comfort in each other’s presence.

You press your lips to his, gently, a soft kiss that’s slow and unhurried. It’s not about passion in this moment. It’s about connection. About feeling the weight of what’s changed between you both. The kiss deepens, but it doesn’t push for more—it’s tender, the kind of kiss that’s meant for taking your time, for savoring what’s just beginning to unfold.

Pulling back, you rest your head on his chest again, your eyes fluttering closed. His arm wraps around you, holding you close, and you feel the warmth of his body seep into yours, grounding you in this moment.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Goodnight,” you reply softly, your voice barely audible.

His fingers continue their gentle movements against your skin, and the steady beat of his heart becomes the rhythm that lulls you into sleep. The world outside the room feels miles away, and all that matters is the feeling of his arms around you, the peace of knowing that this—what you two have—is real.

You drift off to sleep, wrapped in the comfort of him, the quiet promises of the night hanging in the air. It’s the first time in a long time that you feel truly at peace, knowing that you’ve found something that isn’t fleeting, that isn’t just a momentary thrill. This is real. This is yours.

And as you fall asleep, the last thought in your mind is that you’re not just a fleeting part of Harry’s life anymore—you're something more. And for the first time, you believe it.

...

The next morning, the air feels lighter between you and Harry, a sense of calm settling over you both. The conversation from the night before has laid the foundation for something real, and while there’s still a part of you that’s nervous about what comes next, there’s no more uncertainty between you two. You know where you stand, and you know that this time, it’s different.

You’re sitting with Harry in the common area, trying to act like everything’s normal. You’re not hiding anymore, but the rest of the bands are still operating under the assumption that something’s been happening between you two for a while now. Their teasing comments have become more frequent, but there’s an undertone of curiosity that lingers.

Harry catches your eye across the room, his expression soft. He stands up, extending his hand toward you, and you know what’s coming. You take a breath, pushing aside any remaining nerves as you reach for his hand.

“Oi!” Louis calls out, noticing the two of you getting up. “Where are you two off to?”

Harry doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you closer, his arm resting around your shoulders as he walks you toward the others. The whole room falls silent as you approach, the energy shifting instantly.

Ashton’s eyes narrow on you both, but there’s a look of relief in them now, even if he’s still on edge. Niall raises an eyebrow, still unsure of what’s going on. Luke and Michael are watching carefully, their expressions unreadable but attentive. Calum glances between you and Harry, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips as he folds his arms. You glance at the floor, feeling the weight of their eyes on you as Harry gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“We’ve got something to say,” Harry begins, his voice steady but there’s a slight tension in his jaw, as if he’s bracing for their reactions.

You take a deep breath, your nerves a little more palpable now that you’re in front of everyone. This feels like a big moment—like things are finally being put out in the open. You’ve kept this secret for too long, and now, there’s no turning back.

“We’re together,” you say softly, your voice clear but quiet. “For real this time. Not just... whatever it was before.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then the reactions come fast.

“Oh, thank god,” Niall says, a grin spreading across his face. “You two have been dancing around this for ages. About time you made it official.”

“I knew it,” Louis adds with a smirk. “You two were always making eyes at each other. It was only a matter of time.”

Harry laughs, his hand tightening around yours. “Yeah, well... we had to figure things out first. But now we’re here.”

Ashton crosses his arms, his expression a little more guarded. He’s trying not to smile, but you can tell there’s still a hint of protectiveness in his eyes. He looks at Harry, then at you. “I just want you to know, Harry,” he says, his voice low, “if you hurt her again, I won’t hesitate. You’ve got one chance to make it right.”

Harry nods immediately, without hesitation. “I know, man. I won’t hurt her. I care about her too much for that.”

The tension eases a bit, but Zayn and Liam exchange looks, their expressions still weighing the situation. Zayn’s lips curl into a small smile, but he remains quiet. Liam gives you a warm look, the faintest glimmer of approval in his eyes. It’s clear he’s not against this—it’s just new territory for everyone, and a lot has changed in the time since the last time they saw you and Harry together.

“So, we’re all good then?” Niall asks, a grin still on his face.

You nod, squeezing Harry’s hand tighter, your voice steady now. “Yeah. We’re good. We’re not hiding anymore.”

It feels like a weight has been lifted from your chest, like everything is finally falling into place. It’s not perfect—it’s never going to be—but it’s real. And for the first time in a long time, you’re not running from it.

Ashton looks at Harry one last time, then nods, a little less tense than before. “Alright. I trust you.”

Harry’s face softens, a grateful look crossing his features. “Thanks, Ash.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, and suddenly, it feels like things are less complicated. Everyone’s starting to come to terms with it, the unspoken questions beginning to fade away. For the first time, there’s no judgment, no tension. It’s just you and Harry, and the rest of the band, finally adjusting to the new normal.

Luke looks at the two of you, a knowing smirk on his face. “Alright, alright. So when’s the wedding?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Not that fast, mate.”

Michael laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, but at least it’s not a secret anymore.”

Calum chuckles, nudging Luke. “Maybe they’ll invite us to the wedding. They’ve been keeping us on the edge of our seats for far too long.”

The banter continues, but there’s a sense of ease in the air now. No more secrets, no more uncertainty. And as Harry pulls you close again, his hand resting on your shoulder, you feel like this is just the beginning. This time, it’s real. And you’re ready for whatever comes next.

#harry styles x y/n #harry x reader #frat boy harry #harry styles x reader #harry x you #frat boy harry x you #one direction fanfiction #5sos fanfic

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devildomwriter · 1 year ago

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Mammon Birthday Special 100 Fun Facts

1. Mammon states that he sleeps in the nude

2. Mammon despises witches and was nearly chopped into pieces by them once but Lucifer rescued him (although Lucifer was also the one to recommend they cut him into pieces)

3. When Levi tried attacking Mammon in his sleep, before he could even bring his foot down on Mammon, Mammon had him in a headlock

4. Mammon has a habit of stripping while drunk

5. Mammon does not like it when bath’s smell like flowers

6. Mammon’s dream for the future is having a carefree and playful life

7. Mammon starts his baths by washing his head

8. Mammon’s fear of ghosts and monsters originates a little after a year of living in the Devildom when he is possessed by a ghost

9. Mammon hates a Devildom song called “Corpse Rock”

10. Karasu refers to Mammon as noodle-boy

11. In earlier chats and Devilgrams Mammon is said to be a cat person, in later stories he is said to be a dog person, but his birthday information card again states he is more of a cat person

12. Mammon’s motto is “Money will makes the Devil turn millstones.”

13. Mammon’s daily activity is procrastinating in MC’s room

14. Mammon is obsessed with his shades and when he accidentally breaks them he’s devastated

15. According to Beelzebub, Mammon is bad at cooking and doesn’t make good peanut butter sandwiches

16. When Belphie and Beel helped Mammon pick out his human world outfit, he was so touched he bought them their human world clothes

17. Mammon states if the Devildom disappeared tomorrow he’d borrow as much money as he wanted to spend and not have to pay any of it back

18. Mammon’s favorite food in hell is Soy Sauce flavored cup ramen

19. In a love survey in B’s log, Mammin is said to be the active one pursuing love

20. Mammon is said to attract the “sassy and outgoing” types

21. The first thing Mammon does in the morning is check his stocks

22. In the love survey in B’s log when asked if he’d want to be bound by or bind his lover his response was “what do you want me to do? What did you say? Idiot!”

23. Mammon’s car is a Demonio 666 Lexura. The specific type was very rare and (unbeknownst to him originally) only with Lucifer and Diavolo’s help was he able to get it

24. Mammon easily forgets anniversaries and special dates of remembrance

25. Mammon is unable to express himself frankly

26. Mammon likes R&B music

27. Mammon is not a morning demon

28. One of the first things in the game said about Mammon by his brothers is that he’s a masochist

29. The results of a demon brain scanning app showed that Mammon’s thoughts are 90% money

30. Mammon’s worst RAD subject is Hexes and Curses

31. Mammon became Lucifer’s attendant in the Celestial Realm before Leviathan had even been born

32. Mammon was once almost roasted alive by hellfire

33. Mammon is a very bad liar and often admits exactly what he did when explaining that’s not what he did

34. Mammon was almost the one to tame Cerberus but Lucifer rushed in as he was about to confront the dog

35. Mammon is extremely protective of his little brothers

36. When forced to be honest, Mammon admits how much he admires and respects Lucifer

37. When Lucifer has a bad day, Mammon will bring him a drink and sandwich without being asked

38. Mammon was almost kicked out of the celestial realm thousands of years before the fall until Lucifer got through to him

39. Besides the people who were told what Simeon was going through in season 4, Mammon was the first one to notice something was wrong with him

40. Once Mammon was punished by Lucifer by being tickled until he laughed so hard he was humiliated

41. Mammon was given a serum with unknown results that caused him to tell MC he wanted to do many explicit things with them

42. Even Michael was unable to handle Mammon as an angel

43. Mammon is so fast that not even Diavolo and Lucifer can catch up to him

44. It’s been mentioned multiple times that Mammon uses crows as familiars

45. When Lucifer cannot trust Diavolo, he turns to Mammon

46. Mammon once called up Simeon to ask about significant lines in the TSL series so he could successfully hack into Leviathan’s akuzon account

47. Levi and Mammon sometimes perform standup comedy

48. When Mammon tried making a cake for Lucifer on his birthday in the Celestial Realm, he accidentally destroyed the kitchen, infuriating Michael

49. Mammon works as a model occasionally

50. In lesson 11 of the game Mammon claims he is well over 5,000 years old

51. In the celestial realm Mammon would often watch over the younger angels

52. Mammon once tried selling bird feathers to the lesser angels, claiming they were seraph feathers

53. In the celestial realm, Mammon once used the lesser angels to play a game of life-size chess

54. Mammon is said to have been the one who rallied and encouraged the angels in the Celestial war

55. Unlike his brothers, Mammon doesn’t often lose control of his powers

56. Whenever Mammon comes up with solutions to a crisis, they usually make things worse

57. Mammon struggles with math unless he thinks about it as calculating money

58. Mammon loves pandas because they’re profitable

59. Mammon always lets his brothers know about sales and deals going on

60. Mammon is the one who told Lucifer to always have pride and not regret his decision about the war

61. Mammon was cursed to speak like a cat during season 4 and Satan was unable to leave his side even getting Mammon to play with cat toys.

62. The first time Mammon lost control of his powers and transformed into a demon in the game is when he misunderstood a conversation between Levi and MC and assumed they had “relations”

63. Mammon is one of the only people who will indulge Asmodeus and watch his one-man fashion shows

64. When Mammon put too many meals on Satan’s tab, Satan called up Solomon and told him Mammon wanted to try his new recipe

65. Mammon has kidnapped MC multiple times

66. Mammon sometimes goes clubbing with Asmo after part time jobs

67. After Mammon sold all of their silverware he was fired from Ristorante Six

68. Mammon is sometimes referred to as MC’s pet

69. Mammon continues to insist he’s MC’s master not the other way around

70. Mammon sees Luke as his little brother

71. Student council members used to oversee detention until Mammon kept getting detention himself

72. Mammon once accidentally cast a spell on himself that made him burst into song

73. Mammon once accidentally turned himself into a dog

74. Mammon accidentally cursed himself and became extremely small. He was scared of how Beel was looking at him

75. When Mammon made the Miss’em dolls he became extremely wealthy but later blew it all on gambling

76. Mammon is too scared to watch horror movies alone and asks Lucifer to watch them with him

77. Mammon once attacked Lucifer with a three-prong pitch fork when he embarrassed him

78. Mammon has cried from fear of Simeon multiple times

79. Mammon was unable to even pretend to break up with MC

80. Mammon is one of the reasons you need a permit to get to the human world rather than do so freely

81. Mammon got a Mohawk once but his brothers teased him so much he immediately got rid of it

82. Mammon loves the Devildom version of Harry Potter

83. Mammon often threatens lesser/younger demons to hand over all their money

84. Mammon once stopped a bank robbery and demanded the money as compensation

85. Mammon accidentally cut down a Christmas tree gifted to Lucifer from Diavolo

86. Mammon was tricked by Lucifer to gamble against everyone he’d ever screwed over all at once

87. Mammon calls going to the horse races “seeing the horsies” to try and convince MC to tag along

88. When he was Lucifer’s attendant, Mammon sought for a rare Crystal Lily flower to gift him but got lost and Lucifer had to come find him

89. Mammon used Serenity Manor as collateral in gambling as soon as he got to the human world, almost forcing everyone to go right back to the Devildom

90. When coming up with proposal’s Mammon forced Simeon, Solomon, and Luke to participate in a flash mob

91. Mammon has a blood oath with MC and Leviathan

92. Mammon accidentally won Henry 1.0 while trying his first Devildom ice cream. He was nearly eaten.

93. Mammon owns an AK-47 after winning it over in a game against Leviathan

94. Mammon fees guilty that he didn’t have a grand reason to follow Lucifer to hell rather than just feeling like it

95. Mammon once lost a bet to a bunch of rabbits

96. Mammon prefers spicy foods to sweets

97. Mammon extorted Satan for 50,000 Grimm in exchange for throwing him a baseball

98. Mammon’s highest known rank in the celestial realm within the game is a Throne

99. When Mammon was turned into a Test Name box he got used to it immediately, disappointing Beelzebub

100. Mammon died in season 4 for a few minutes but was brought back by Barbatos

#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me fun facts #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus

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gunsoffire · 1 year ago

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If you want to really get sad vibes listen to the Kurt Hugo Schenider + Sam Tsui cover of Clarity <3

This is so sad 🥺 Alexa play Clarity by Zedd

#So much emotion in this #Cool art #trikey #Love the expressions and placement of the hands #I should be in bed but I'm happy I happened to see this art #michael de santa #trevor philips #michael townley #grand theft auto five #GTA V #gta 5 #type: art

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yaseraphine · 3 months ago

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astro observations 5 - appearance and vibes / Cancer rising men

Men used as examples in this post : Booba / Troye Sivan / Nekfeu / Bill Gates / The Weeknd / Salvador Dali / George Michael/ Pharrell Williams / John Cena / Cyril Hanouna

Physical appearance

Weirdly enough, a lot of them have chad faces / the type to be labeled as a "professional moggers" or whatever it is called / probably the most objectively handsome men in my opinion / square jaws / soft watery eyes / smooth skin / irresistible and sweet smirk

When they get older, some of them end up having the Dilf/ Daddy type of looks with this softness still remaining that usually makes women melt (yes i used John Cena as a dilf example..sorry guys)

"There must have been an angel by my side"

The eyes and the jaw is huge here, they also are generally muscular -> the chest area is prominent in a way

They tend to look like cherubs. They have an angel-like appearance.

Really angelic and cute appearance. A little shy the first time you meet, get flustered easily, pink ears and cheeks

The eyes are really expressive and sparkly. It's like you can see stars being reflected in their eyes when you look at them. A really soft, poetic and deep gaze that can make you blush a bit. Their eyes from what I have seen are full of emotions. Really captivating but not in a intense scopionic sense, it's more magical kind of like bishonen, the standard face of male protagonists in shojos or just generally a lot of animes (think of Howl in the Ghibli movie Howl's moving castle)

Body : usually smaller than average. Twinks or buff dudes with a heart of gold. There is no in-between in my experiences.

If you know about Kibbe or Kitchener's body type and face type essences systems :

Kibbe body type : Flamboyant gamine, or gamine , some could be soft classic even

Face type / essence : Gamine, Ingenue or more rarely Angelic (ethereal)

First impressions, vibes, general way of presenting themselves

Right off the bat, there is something significant about the way they speak and interact with people. They usually have really soft, deep and soothing voices. Talk in a really calm and composed manner. They take their time to speak. They take their time to pronounce each word.

Have a way with words that is usually really captivating. Really calming presence. Natural talent for poetry, play on words. They can be really good at voice acting. They usually have a really good diction too. Really good storytellers.

Appears really shy though. Can’t really hide their emotions, we can easily read right through them.

A lot of them are artistically inclined, really sensitive men. Women feel safe around them and they are often surrounded by women.

Really appreciated by women. The type of men little girls want to marry when they grow up.

They usually know how to keep people at ease by using humor too. They tend to be quite funny and have a really relatable humor. Usually really good at imitations too. Good at picking up on people’s emotions.

Really caring and attentive to their loved ones.

Likes to call people by pet names/ cute nicknames like "darling", "angel" "sweatheart", etc ..from my experience. The type to say "let's go kids!" to their group of friends. Even if they are men, they are just usually really maternal.

Usually is quite expressive in their "face body language" and likes to make goofy facial expressions. Their emotions are just visible on their face.

Makes deep eye contact, nods at everything you say. The type to tell you " no no it's ok keep going 😆😅" when you're losing your train of thoughts.

If you accidentally overshare, and they obviously see you’re embarrassed, they will reassure you.

Killers on the Dancefloor ? : Something also quite random about them is that they all have these silly little dances and signature moves that they do. If you invite them to a party, be prepared to be impressed. It’s a bit silly and kind of cute but at same time they’re killing it.

You feel like you can cry in their arms vibes. They have this friendly energy.

A lot of them tend to create a community since they need it. Always in search of their soul family.

A lot of them tend to have groupies from what I have seen. Like they can become the main pillar that holds their friend group together.

Generally really paternal/maternal, kind of like a reassuring parental figure. Just like Capricorn risings, they have this parental figure vibes to them. It's like you can count on them. However , Capricorn risings represent more the archetype of the Father, representing tough love and practicality. Cancer risings on the other hand represent the archetype of the Mother, focusing on emotional security and vulnerability.

When Capricorn risings look like they would give you great life advice and be a good mentor, Cancer risings look like you can be vulnerable and open up to them, like they can provide you emotional healing. Kind of like a therapist in a way.

The Devil hidden behind those angelic eyes :

Smooth Operator - Sade : “his eyes are like angels but his heart is cold”

“No place for beginners or sensitive hearts

When sentiment is left to chance

“No place to be ending but somewhere to start”

“A license to love, insurance to hold

Melts all your memories and change into gold

His eyes are like angels but his heart is cold”

Despite all this potential to be an amazing, emotionally mature, sensitive and creative person a lot of them will fall in the shadows. Deception, emotional manipulation, victimization, gaslighting will be their driving force and fuel through life. Because of unresolved negative and destructive emotional patterns, they will become the most vile and manipulative creatures you’ll ever meet, all of this disguised behind a mask of sympathy and openness. They will trick you into thinking you can open up yourself to them, that they’ll understand you. You will not realize until it’s too late that you’ve been tricked by their sweet words and their skills to read right through people. They will project and consistently play victim. They will become professional actors. They will be the type of men Raye describes in her song named : “Oscar Winning Tears.” She says that about the song : “This is about a man who put me through hell, and then proceeded to cry about it. I wanted to create a big dramatic classic feeling record with live strings to capture the audacity of his silly tears, to feel powerful whilst telling this story”

=> “Truly, I'm vulnerable, I love a sentiment

Quickly I opened up, I learned my lesson then

Thought I was safe again, thought he was innocent

I was so wrong”

“I can't deny

I thought you were the man, but you had a plan

The fuck you lying for? Fuck you crying for?

You did it again (yeah, ah-ah-ah)”

“So I'll take this front row seat

And baby, baby, you can go ahead

Cry those Oscar-winning tears

Popcorn and I scream

Baby, baby, you can go ahead

Cry those Oscar winning (tears) tears, baby”

The white lies will begin to be stained by red dots of blood. Their heightened intuition and sensitivity will not be used for good and will become a deadly weapon. A weapon that traps its victims in a sugar coated hell. Let’s not forget that their shadow (their 7th house sign) is Capricorn, represented by The Devil in Tarot. The light of their angel-like charm will pull you in only to realize too late that you’ve fallen deep in the shadows, embraced by the hands of the devil. But it’s too late. You’ve already fallen too deep in the umbra to even see just a gleam.

Cancer risings sadly tend to be stuck in really toxic emotional cycles from what I have seen.

A lot of them tend to be master manipulators. The type to guilt-trip and gaslight you.

Real-life examples of this shadow side:

Shane Dawson was extremely well-liked on the internet. He was infamous for his funny skits, was good at imitations and kind of created this relatable persona that people got attached to. Cancerian energy gave him this familiar and “sweet” guy vibes that made people admire his apparent transparency. Turns out he was extremely manipulative and problematic.

Nekfeu , In his songs, there is a scary amount of self-awareness regarding his toxic behaviors and the patterns he tends to repeat. This to me is the peak example of how thin the layer is between each signs’ light and shadow side. This hyper self-awareness towards their shadow side while simultaneously consciously repeating it describes really well those men. They don’t use their intuition for good.

Laughable loves / Ridiculous loves (risibles amours)

“And each time I care, I can't be myself

Why this need to hide everything ?

None of these girls matter, and I met you

You were different, it scared me, and I screwed up

We were part of a whole thing, we were high perched

If I lost her, I would have looked for it”

“My boy's envies/desires turn into a boring game

Relationships which lead me nowhere

Even if I'm trying to find the solution in this illusion of seduction

I've got the feeling that I only knew one woman

I know the risks of love but I'm still having a taste for the risk

the boy’s envies/ desires is to be understood in “my boyish desires”. He is rapping about the desires he has that are one of a boy, not a man. He knows it, knows it is self-destructive. Throughout the entire song, he shows really obvious self-awareness.

=> It is really hard to find good/ perfect translations to his play on words since sometimes he uses french idioms that aren't easily translatable in english without losing the meaning. (i found the lyrics' translation here => https:/lyricstranslate.com/fr/risibles-amours-laughable-loves.html)

/!\ disclaimer - mention of domestic abuse /!\

When I made that post, it wasn’t known yet that one of the main examples used here (Nekfeu / the guy in the two pictures in between The Weeknd holding his grammys and next to troye sivan in the "there must have been an angel by my side" part) recently got exposed for having “allegedly” physically, psychologically and sexually abused his ex-partner. (i put allegedly in quotations marks because girl there are much higher chances he did it then not. I will always stand with the victims. If you went through something similar know that : Victims we always believe you and we stand by you ! ). While preparing for the post, the news wasn't out yet so I had to change the way I portrayed him accordingly. I think a reminder is always needed because putting him here will unfortunatly make him have some "visibility". I don't want to present him in a positive light or to make him gain potential new fans. If I can use this post to raise awareness, I will do it gladly. Especially with the current state of the world, and how more and more women's rights are getting taken away.

The Weeknd , being a cancer rising with a capricorn stellium shows this duality really well. His lyrics are raw and confessional. He shows a lot of self-awareness regarding his terrible and toxic behaviors. He is absolutely aware that he is stuck in karmic cycles yet this awareness isn’t enough to get him out of those self-destructive cycles.

Cyril Hanouna, is a very controversial french radio host and TV host and producer. He is known for being extremely narcissistic and for always playing victim, saying people are trying to attack him unfairly. He is extremely manipulative and sly, and pretends it’s always other people’s fault.

+BONUS / Additional visual examples :

#astro notes #astro observations #astrology #astro community #cancer #cancer rising #cancer rising men #astro obs #astro posts

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chloesimaginationthings · 2 months ago

Note

A horribly disproportionate drawn 5 minute doodle that I made after seeing the comic of younger Vanny and Michael post from a few days ago! I couldn’t get them out of my head, they’re so silly.

(Btw! I love your art soooo much, I’m inspired by how cartoony and expressive the facial expressions are, and how distinct the shape language is! Each character is just so iconic, even from a distance! :D)

Here you go! ^^"

OOO MICHAEL AND VANNY DID THE ARSON!!

#ask reply #THIS IS VERY CUTE THANK YOUUU #also your message is super sweet!!#SO THANK YOU ALL AROUNDDD #SUCH A CUTE LIL DOODLEEEE

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bunnyteetharry · 1 year ago

Text

When you know, you know

summary: y/n was always scared to end up like her parents and harry changed that for her

warnings: none?

pairing: husband!arry x wife!reader

Inspo from this tiktok

————⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ —————⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ —————⋆ ˚｡⋆

Ever since she was younger

Y/n has always been afraid of who she will end up with at the end, she didn’t always think this way. It started when she suddenly started to wake up to screaming, or when one of her parents would set her aside and talk badly about the other.

Even before, she’s never seen them do something or say something nice about the other

You always questioned if they truly loved each other once upon a time or they just stayed to stay

Once her parents had gotten the divorce, that’s when the fear got worse, she wanted to love and be loved by someone like she read in the books

She wanted to feel how obsessed you can be with someone when you deeply love them

Not having to worry about the worse

It’s not she didn’t know that not every relationship if perfect from how she witnessed her parents relationship.

She just wished and hoped too much that it got in the way of finding someone

That’s until she met Harry

He was a breathe of fresh air, it was the first time she let go of her worries and just let things happen without a second thought

It’s cliche but, somehow she knew it was going to be him since their second date, but she wouldn’t dare to tell Harry that due to how inflamed his ego would get

But when it really, truly hit her, they had been together for 5 years and had just married

They were in the backyard with a group of their friends just hanging out and catching up with each other from the busy week

She was leaned over the outdoor bar talking with her longterm friend Gracie and her husband was sitting across from them with Harry in the middle of the year on the lounge chairs with others as well

They were talking about how they’ve never seen Harry drink or smoke or bitterly anything that came to his as an obsession

“So?” Michael itched on “So what?” Harry smiled as he took a sip of his water “What are you obsessed with then, there has to be something that you crave”

He thought for a second before smiling and pointing towards Y/n and said “The only thing I’ve ever been addicted to is that one right there”

At that moment y/n felt her chest fill, trying so hard not to tear up and pretend she didn’t hear him, Harry had always had a hard time expressing his feelings so him saying things like that, especially infant of people, brought her so much warmth inside.

Once everyone had gathered inside, they were the only two left

Margaret by Lana del Rey was playing softly in the background as they swayed slowly

“I love you” she whispered gently against his lips, he smiled and pulled her closer to him “Do you now” he rubbed his nose against her cheek “You’re annoying” y/n gently pushed him away before he pulled her back in “I love you more baby” he mumbled against her lips, kissing her softly.

a/n: sobbed for hours after watching that tiktok I had to write something about it, kinda based on me (ish), but anyways enjoy!

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #hshq #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #tiktok

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valtsv · 11 months ago

Note

i would love to hear more of your thoughts on michael shelley!!! 🌀🚪✨

you're in luck because i've sat on thoughts about him for years and i finally feel like i can articulate them. because michael shelley is such a well written case of tragic horror in the horror tragedy podcast. and, despite my criticisms of season 5, it really did do an excellent job in concluding his character arc with the gertrude backstory episode. in a podcast where a common in-universe theme is that knowledge, and the pursuit of knowledge, is dangerous, michael is a subversion in that his ignorance of the horrors of the world he lived in not only didn't save him, but was intentionally engineered to make him vulnerable to exploitation and harm (which, on a broader scope, emphasises the futility of the world of the magnus archives - regardless of whether you participate in or turn a blind eye to the systems at play, involved or uninvolved, you are not safe).

furthermore, i really appreciate the subversion of traditional tropes of the sacrifice as a typically female figure taken advantage of by a male father, brother, or lover, whose tragic and horrible death is used to motivate him (whether to greatness or self-destruction), with michael being a son sacrificed by his mother (or grandmother) figure, who never actually loved him and whose 'frail' and 'nurturing' qualities were weaponised incompetence used to gaslight and manipulate him - and who continues to operate successfully (at least in terms of what can be said to be 'success' in a world like the magnus archives) without being haunted by any apparent doubt about the decision she made, or any hesitation to use others in similar ways, following this betrayal. which makes the fact that he's sewn into the fabric of a being that represents lies in their most insidious form, used as a weapon to devour people and destroy their lives, all the more abhorrent in hindsight - he is forced to not only relive his trauma in an endless loop (or spiral, if you will), but to become the mechanism which enables it. michael is taken to the edge of something evil (at least from a human perspective), and pushed over the threshold with no hope of recourse. there's almost a reverse orphic quality to it - he descends into terrifying other world, one which exists side-by-side with but fundamentally seperate from his own, against his will, and looking back will only cause him pain as he's assaulted by memories of a life he will never be able to reach.

i think a lot of people forget to look past the surface with michael, despite there being an entire episode dedicated to doing so. which is understandable, he's a very outwardly expressive character - but this is intentional obfuscation to hide an incredibly damaged victim whose hatred of this part of himself is integral to his entire reason for being, and which the rejection of causes him to be unmade, incapable of existing as this contradictory nightmare any longer. it's a mercy killing, and yet it is violent and painful, because michael cannot and should not exist, and excising that graft used to muzzle the distortion is as agonising as latching it into place was in the first place. when michael-the-distortion says about michael shelley "he was born. he was pointless. and he should have died." there is an implicit longing there, a rage at the way he was used, his decisions made for him and used to imprison something else instead of ever being allowed to exercise any measure of free will. because michael shelley probably would have died for the archivist, given the opportunity, but he never got the choice.

#🐉#michael shelley #tma

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shapard · 11 months ago

Text

Feather of Fate 🕊️

Lucifer x Seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

Oh-

NSFW, MDNI

Lift Me Up

Chapter 5 < Chapter 6 > Chapter 7

This was the best sleep you ever had in your life.

The bed felt warm and cozy, too comfortable to even move an inch.

You in Lucifers Arms and Lucifer in yours.

You smelled the sweet caramel Apple and musk again and hearing a light snoring from Lucifer.

His wings were settled around you hugging him deeper into your chest, protectively.

He was scared that someone would take you away. His arm was resting on your waist and the tickling warm feeling settled in.

Your mind hummed in approval, and for the first time it was quiet.

No thoughts in your mind, just you and him.

Everything felt perfect.

Fluttering your eyes open you searched for Lucifer.

He was laying peaceful between your chest and grumbled into them. You laughed at the ticklish feeling from his breath.

He snuggled deeper into one of your breasts, it stung a bit from the pressure but nothing you can’t handle.

This man loves tits, not caring if their small, medium, or large.

He just loves them.

And yours were just so perfect and soft for him.

Hunger hit you like a punch in the face, your stomach grumbled and ached for food.

You haven’t eaten for days.

Grumbling, you sat up letting Lucifer slide onto your lap. His hand is still holding your waist tight.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes to see properly you stroked his hair softly.

His wings were capturing you in the bed, but you have to eat something.

Shaking Lucifer softly to wake him up, to no success. “

Luci.” You Shaked him harder and he just cursed into your thigh, snuggling deeper into your lap. “Lucifer!” You screamed this time, he sprung up into defenses pose ready to protect his mate from the non-existing threat.

You called out his name again, “Let’s eat something. I think we’re both Hungry.”

Lucifers wings disappeared into his back and now he was facing you.

You had shorts on from him and an oversized t-shirt he bought you once.

Not again.

He started to blush at the sight.

Your hair all a mess and the soft facial expression. He was amazed to say at least.

Walking towards you, kind of hypnotized by your appearance.

He reached again out for your waist and pullled you closer to him. You let out a quiet gasp and he laughed it off.

“You’re so pretty.” His voice was all gruffed out from the long sleep he longed for and needed.

You giggled when he prepped kisses all over your face down to your neck.

When he reached the neck, he started to suck your flesh, you reward him with a low moan.

He pushed you back down on his bed, pressing his morning wood against your clothed heat.

“So pretty.” He whispers into the crook of your neck. His breath is brushing against your sensitive neck.

Your womanhood started to burn with a wanting feeling.

A feeling of desire burned through your body, you felt like lava.

It clouded your mind.

To get some relief you rubbed your clit on his covered dick to get more friction, you want more.

The desire was too strong to ignore and Lucifer felt the same.

You needed more of him. And he needed you as much as you needed him.

The room around you felt like a Sauna. No air to breathe, it was suffocating.

You two stopped abruptly.

His stomach now grumbled too because of its emptiness.

You halt.

Groaning he sat up, being disappointed at his body being his own cock-blocker.

You laughed at his disappointed facial expression.

“Let’s get some food.”

_______

Lilith observed Michael's childish trotting around destroying his room.

It’s not the first time that Lilith saw him throwing a tantrum, but he never destroyed his own stuff.

This was new.

“What made you Angry this time, Michael?” She raised her brows looking at the messed-up man in front of her.

Michael snapped at Lilith puling her hair to make her look in his eyes.

“Your damn husband-” “Ex- Husband. We’re divorced.” Lilith quickly corrected him.

Michael slapped Lilith hard in the face, a bruise started to form. "Don't shush me slut."

She doesn’t want to be associated with Lucifer anymore. And most likely not from Michael.

Her eyes are half closed because of the sharp pain on her scalp.

"He's not my husband anymore, and never will be."

Michael rolled his eyes, “He’s in hell because of you. You made him give eve the forbidden apple in the first place.” Raising his eyebrow, remembering all the shit that happened when Lilith entered Lucifers life.

And he remembered how she came crawling to him, pleading to go back to heaven.

Just like she did when Lucifer gave eve the apple.

Pleading him to let her part in history out. Even though she Influenced him, she doesn't want to look bad in front of God.

Slut.

Michael sat down on the couch, removing the glass shards that were spread all over it. He re-styled his hair and took a deep breath in.

“I want you to go down there.” Michael announced, now looking at Lilith.

Lilith started to laugh nervously. “What do you mean, I’ll not go down there.”

Michael mimicked her nervous laugh, a chain appeared around Lilith’s neck pushing her down towards Michael’s feet as he let her hair go.

A golden paper puffed out with Lilith signature underneath the signature line. „You’ll go down there Miss ‘I don’t want to see my ex-Man’ You’re in heaven because of me and you’ll do as I say. You signed up for this.”

Lilith shivered scared that the crazy man in front of her will do more than just threating her.

His voice was everywhere and nowhere, his eyes showing nothing but a blue icy glow.

The air around them started to freeze.

He tapped on the golden paper to showcase Lilith that he owns her soul, and she can’t do anything about it.

He got her on the leash.

And no one will save her.

________

Lucifer and you ate in silent.

Even though you both were all cozying up with each other, there was still a thick tension in the room.

You both avoided the elefant that was still in the room.

With a sigh you laid the fork on the halfway eaten plate. “So,” you started to play with the napkin, “about Michael.” Lucifer visibly tensed when you mention his name.

“Your older brother. He’s quiet, scary.” A clink from the fork colliding with the empty plate from Lucifer and you gave him your full attention.

“Twin actually. Heh... we are twins...”

He wiped the remaining food on his lips away with a napkin, “and he wasn’t always like that. But something changed, he changed. Jealousy can bring the worst out of people. And it consumed him. He always thought I got more than- Can we talk about this another day? I just want to spent time with you.”

You agreed with him.

Whatever Michael did to him was still hurting him.

It showed in the way he reacts, and how you felt in unease when you thought about him.

You continue to eat in the silence.

Lucifer threw here and there a couple of jokes, but something was off.

It annoyed Lucifer, he thought everything is going to be okay.

But when he’s looking at you, he saw that the guilt was still eating you alive.

You were still worried about him.

“Are your wings healing?” You asked, showing how this all still affected you.

Lucifer clapped his hands together, he’s had enough.

He doesn't need your sympathy, all he needs is you beside him.

“Darling, I’m fine. Stop overworking your cute little brain over it. I’m Lucifer! The king of Hell, I can survive this.” He flexed his Biceps signaling you that he’s good in shape.

But you can’t stop it.

He still looked exhausted and tired, he’s skinnier than before and his face looked so empty.

He was clearly still exhausted, and it was still your fault.

“I know Luci, but you don’t look okay.” Pictures from the event yesterday flooded in your mind, how he laid there defeated and with no strength.

His wings almost naked with lesser feathers and the still present ones were started to lose its colors.

You know how an Angel looks with depression and with loss of a soulmate.

“I hurt you.”

Lucifer gave you a worried look when you started to sniffle. The thought of you being the cause that he almost died was burning like acid in your heart.

He took your hand very gentle.

His hand was so smooth, soft and cold like porcelain. But in yours his were warm.

You both intertwined your hands, and he squeezed your hand reassuring.

His other hand went straight up to your cheek giving it a comforting stroke. “Y/n, yes indeed it hurt that you kept it from me. But I’m sure you have a good reason for it. We can work it out together, you’re not alone anymore, neither am I.”

His eyes shifted down to where your hands intertwined, and he smiled softly. For the first time in his life, it seemed that someone cares about him.

And he’s genuine happy.

Sure, it still hurts, but you’re now with him.

And he’ll hold on you tight. Till the day you both fall into dust.

“My wings can heal. But I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t survive this. Michael is always against me finding joy, his hatred towards me was always so harsh.

And I’m scared Y/n.

As much I am happy that you’re with me, he has planned something to take you away from me. And I’m so terrified that you’ll die in my hands because of my recklessly act.

So, believe me when I say to you that you’re forgiven.” He pressed his forehead softly against yours, closing his eyes to feel the warmth from you. He wiped your tears away.

And the inner child in you broke.

Lucifer never seems to not surprise you.

Your crying filling the air, it was all the trauma that build up in you.

You can’t really explain why you’re letting all your emotions out.

Maybe it was his reassuring words that he’ll never leave you or that you trust him with your life.

Or it was his comforting Aura that soses your soul granting you inner peace.

He understands you.

You helped him not only Yesterday.

You saved him from the void that ate him slowly up. The void that consumed every last drop of happiness, he had.

He opened his eyes when your cries slowly calmed down.

He kissed the last tear that poured down your face and stroked your lips gentle.

You looked him in his eyes, and you felt home, comforted.

You where were you belong.

He pecked your lips, and you closed your eyes to let yourself fall into him.

Into this bliss.

He bit on your lips, and you gasped on the light pain.

He used the opportunity to slip his split tongue into your mouth.

You two started to make out heavily and he pulled you up to the table. Pushing the plates away from the two of you, so you have more space.

The hand on your cheek moved towards your neck as he presses you further in.

He tasted like a sweet caramel apple, and you wanted more.

You needed more.

You both played with your tongues just to get more of that addicting taste.

The alluring squeeze in your heart and the desire crept in.

It was all so overwhelming, but in a good way.

Lucifer spread your legs with his free hand. His body pressed between your thighs, stroking them softly.

He felt high.

High from the warmth of your body.

High from this feeling. From this desire that made him throb.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavily. A saliva string connected the two of you.

Lucifer went down to push the oversized T-shirt away, “can I?”

You nod hesitant.

You never done this before, of course you didn’t.

You lived in heaven under your mother’s wings Sera. She wouldn’t allow you this kind of act before marriage.

The cold air hit your nipple making them harden from the coldness.

Lucifer stopped a second, observing your breast.

Intimidated by his stare you asked him what’s wrong.

“They’re just so gorgeous.” He moans at the end.

His hand travelled to one of your Tits massaging it. You moaned at the sudden sensation.

Lucifer licked and then started to suck on the other nipple. His eyes remained on you when your head fell back from the pleasure.

Who knew that this would feel so good, definitely not you.

His smile widened at your reaction. Lucifers eyes were lidded, and his eyes showed nothing but lust for you.

He stopped massaging your tit and went down to your covered clit giving it couple of strokes.

You gripped down at the table sheet, confused but also in the best feeling ever. You never knew your body was capable of this.

“Oh my-“ how Lucifer was circling his fingers on your clit made you insane.

His fingers sometimes entered your cunt, and you arched your back to get more of him.

Lucifer stopped sucking on your tit, you whined in protest.

He kissed a trail of kisses down your chest and stomach stopping at your pussy. He kissed it softly and still looked into your eyes.

“Look at me.” He pressed hard on your clit when you disobeyed him, earning a groan from you.

Opening your eyes, you looked down at Lucifer who was between your legs, kissing your inner thigh and sucking on them softly.

You felt hot.

Too hot.

You were sweating but in a good way, you never want this to end.

Lucifer was a sucker of your face right now.

He wants to take a picture from those hovered eyes filled with lust and your hard breathing state. Your hair fell on your face and the way you looked at him was alluring.

Ache.

“Please.” You didn’t even know what you were pleading for, you were a talking mess pleading Lucifer to continue.

With a small laugh he ripped your panties open.

All the sudden you felt insecure, you can’t explain why. You tried to close your legs, but Lucifer had other Ideas. He used his strength to spread your legs more open for him.

And hell, your body was beautiful.

The stretch marks on your body were so attractive to him.

Giving your cunt a quick peck before he went all face in. His forked tongue explored your pussy so good and deep.

Your hand flew to lucifers golden hair holding tight on it.

He ate you out so good, you were a moaning mess.

“Fuck-“ He treated you so good, way too good.

You gasp when he hit that spot. You almost screamed his name, “found it.” His forked tongue moved with elegant on your g-spot.

A knot starts to build in your lower area, and you began to panic.

But Lucifer didn’t stop.

Not with the way you looked at him.

His red eyes were burning deep in a scarlet like color. He can’t wait to see you break on his cock; he’ll probably fuck you dumb.

You were already a mess with his tongue deep down in your tasteful pussy.

He groans into it you, letting out a couple of curses.

You called out his name with a slight shiver, “Lu- ah- Stop.” You feel something will come, as if you’re about to pee. But Lucifer didn’t stop.

With a couple of strokes on your clit and him eating you out. You released with a loud moan with his name.

You came hard.

This pleasure you never felt before, and you were high from it. Your tight warm hole clenched around him, and he sucked all of your cum.

And God it was addicting.

After couple pf moments he stood up licking his finger, “You’re so delicious” he moaned when he licked your cum off of his finger.

He wants to fuck his dick deep inside you, but he decided against it.

It wasn’t rocketing science that you never done this before.

Hearing light snoring he looked surprised at your messed up figure. You laid there in all your grace tired out from your recent act. He laughed at you and started to clean you up.

…

Meanwhile in the Hotel a certain someone was making a mess.

Charlie looked nervous and surprised that her mother is standing in front of them with a deep frown.

“Mom?!”

A/n: I've never written smut before so I hope this was good-✋🏽💀

And what are your thoughts?❤️

💫

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