#Mini Blurbs

[willowsages-blog]

Farmers daughter: Johnny Knoxville x female reader

Warnings none: just a fluff oneshot 

-Johnny does that hot hair shake thing when he comes inside all soaking wet 

-you fake trying to escape his hug while giggling because he is getting you all wet

-you sit by the window together and Johnny shows you how to count the time between thunder & lighting 

- Johnny tells you with a big grin that he thinks your rain boots make you look hot & you scoff at him

- Johnny runs out to get your laundry off the line while you cheer him for him

[kimmie2me]

Dynamite and His Player 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Twitch Gamer!Bakugou x AFAB!Reader

.....

Bakugou glances over at the camera, brows furrowed as he adjusts his headset. "Alright, you extras, get ready to shut the hell up," he growls, his voice laced with annoyance. "She’s real. I’ve got her right here, and she’s playing with me tonight."

You laugh off-screen, causing his chat to explode with reactions. Up until now, they didn't believe a word Bakugou said when he claimed he had a girlfriend. After all, this is the guy known for his explosive reactions when things go slightly wrong. He grumbles, trying to keep his cool, but the slight blush on his cheeks gives him away.

The game loads up, some horror-puzzle co-op that requires a ton of coordination. But while Bakugou’s all business—focused on solving puzzles and surviving—you have other ideas. You’re busy teasing him, wandering off to explore the map, or purposely messing up just to get a rise out of him.

"Can you just—dammit! Will you STOP wandering off?" Bakugou snaps as he watches your character take another detour. "We’re supposed to be working together!"

You grin at the screen, purposely moving your character in circles. "Aw, come on, Suki~ We’re just having fun, right?"

His jaw clenches, and he mutters something under his breath about "not having fun if you keep screwing around." But his viewers are eating it up, laughing at his frustration and flooding the chat with comments like "She's brave for messing with him, LMAO😭😭" and "Bros .4 seconds away from exploding his monitor for the 10 millionth time🪦"

Eventually, he just huffs, slouching in his chair and mumbling, "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. I’ll just wait here." His expression says he's beyond annoyed, but the hint of a smile peeking through his scowl gives away that maybe, just maybe, he's actually having a little fun too.

Grumpy Twitch Gamer Bakugou Headcanons

...

— Every time he messes up, he narrows his eyes at the camera with that “are you stupid?” glare. Chat spams "IT’S NOT OUR FAULT!” and "WHY R U LOOKING AT US LIKE WE DID THAT??" but he just huffs, “If you idiots weren’t DISTRACTING me…”

— Bakugou’s streaming style is brutally honest—constantly throwing out curses like it’s second nature. If he dies in-game, his go-to is, “How the hell am I supposed to win with this garbage game?!” and he never blames himself, ever.

— He has zero chill. Every so often, he’ll pound the desk so hard that the camera shakes, and one time he punched his mic so fiercely that it cut out, leaving chat in hysterics as he tries to fix it, muttering about “this piece of crap gear.”

— After every gaming session, he gives a review of the game he’s playing—most of which devolve into full-on rants about terrible controls, stupid enemies, and “whoever the hell designed these levels.” At this point, it's an entire essay by the time he's done.

— There are moments when he hits the mute button just to scream or cuss off-mic. Chat sees him red-faced and mouthing words, knowing he’s losing it, which makes them spam laugh emotes to annoy him further.

— Sometimes, when things get really bad, he just simply says "Okay." and goes quiet, leaning in close to the screen with this intense focus. Chat knows that if he’s silent, it’s only because he’s plotting to obliterate whatever got him killed.

— It’s become a running joke with his followers—every time he streams, they place bets on which piece of his equipment he’ll break. He’s replaced his keyboard three times already and had to upgrade his camera stand because he broke the last one during a particularly heated rage quit.

— When he finally beats a level, he acts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “See? Wasn’t even hard, you just have to not be a dumbass.” Cue the smug smirk.

— Occasionally, in his absolute rage, he’ll end the stream immediately after a loss. One second he’s there, screaming at the game, and then—stream offline.

— Despite all the rage, he’s actually insanely good at gaming. When he goes on a winning streak, chat blows up with admiration, but he barely acknowledges it. “’Course I won—who the hell do you think I am?”

— He has zero patience for backseat gamers. “Oh, you think you could do better? Why don’t you go start your own damn channel, then!” The mods know by now to instantly time out anyone who even hints at suggesting how he should play, and the ban count is astronomical by the end of each stream.

— Occasionally, Bakugou gets so into the game that he goes almost silent, and chat jokes it’s an ASMR session because all they can hear is his intense breathing and muttered curses. “Oi, STOP saying it’s ASMR, it’s not ASMR, you freaks!”

— Loading screens are his worst enemy. Every single time, he glares directly into the camera, arms crossed and seething, ranting about the “stupid long loading times” and how he could’ve “beat the damn game twice by now.” and how "a whole child could've been born by now." Chat watches in suspense because they know the rage is simmering, just waiting to explode.

— If he’s playing a console game, the controller does not have a safe future. He’s thrown it across the room, slammed it on his knee or desk, and even threatened it like, “You’re next, you little piece of shit, keep messing up on me.” He’s gone through so many controllers that his sponsor had to send him extras.

— When he loses in a PvP game, he has 1,001 excuses. “Lag. Dumb luck. Exploiter. The devs nerfed my character, obviously.” If chat calls him out, he just scoffs, “You think that was my fault? Keep dreaming.” And the mods instantly clear out any “L” spam from chat because he’s already dangerously close to slamming his keyboard.

— His channel has special emotes for when he loses his temper—explosion icons, angry Bakugou faces, and even one of his own “ARE YOU FUCKIN’ KIDDING ME?!” face. Chat spams these whenever he starts heating up, which only fuels his fire.

— His viewers love to try and provoke him. Someone will innocently say, “Hey Dynamight, I think you missed something back there,” and he’ll instantly pause, glare at the screen, and say, “I DIDN’T MISS ANYTHING, DUMBASS, WE'RE MOVING ON.” It’s like a game within the game for his followers. (He goes back to check right after.)

— “Easy mode?” he scoffs at the suggestion. “I’d rather throw myself into a fire than play on easy mode.” Even if he’s dying over and over, he’ll never, ever change the difficulty. Chat has tried for months to get him to switch, but he’s stubbornly loyal to “the only real mode” (aka Hard Mode, Nightmare mode or above).

— If he actually wins a match, he’s unbearable. He’ll sit there, grinning and basking in his victory, smirking at the camera with a smug, “And that, extras, is why I’m better than every single one of you.” Cue chat sarcastically clapping.

— He once had a bet with his mods that he’d try to do a stream without cursing or raging. He lasted five minutes before he exploded, screaming, “THIS GAME IS FUCKING RIGGED!” after an unexpected jump-scare. The mods were dying, and he banned half of them out of spite (they were unbanned five minutes later, but still).

— Every time he’s about to start a new game, he’s got this exaggerated, dramatic intro: “ALRIGHT, EXTRAS, prepare yourselves ‘cause we’re about to dominate the shit outta this game. And if I see anyone backseat gaming, you’re banned. Don’t even THINK about telling me what to do.”

— Every now and then, when he dies for the tenth time in a row, he just deadpans to the camera, “I swear to God, I’m deleting my channel after this.” Chat knows he’s bluffing, but they still spam crying emojis like “NOOO PLEASE DON’T” just to mess with him.

— Every so often, when he’s focused on a tough level, he’ll mutter something like, “Okay, maybe you’re not so bad, chat. Don’t tell anyone I said that,” and the comments absolutely blow up with hearts and “WE LOVE YOU, DYNAMIGHT.” He immediately goes red and yells, “Didn’t mean it, idiots!” but it’s too late.

— Once, he rage-quit a game so hard that his entire setup fell silent. He’d punched the desk, and the screen went black. Chat watched in shock as the stream just… cut off. The clip went viral, with an entire 30-minute compilation titled “Every time Dynamight destroyed his setup” He came back the next day, reacted to it, and you already know he gave the video a thumbs down and left a long hate comment.

— His mods convinced him to play a “relaxing, casual game” that was secretly full of jump scares. The first time it happened, he almost flipped his entire desk. He immediately banned half of his mods and told the rest they were “on thin ice.” Chat still laughs about it every time he plays a “cute” game.

[stevesgother]

Dress - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.5k

Summary - 2 times Steve Harrington has lost his mind seeing you in a dress that fits you like skin, and the one time he does something about it.

Contains - best friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is pathetically in love, loosely based off of ‘Dress’ by Taylor Swift. Or maybe heavily based lol

Warnings - steve & reader ARE 18 in this, they just haven’t graduated yet, drinking, vomit. As always, let me know if I missed anything

AN - THIS IS PART 1 OF A WIP. second fic…ever! also my first mini series! i was gonna make it all one fic but i figured it would be easier to digest this way. enjoy :)

Senior Prom - May 1985

Michael Cooper. That’s who was waiting for you downstairs in your foyer, sweet talking your parents while he waited to escort you to your final high school dance. He wasn’t your first choice for your senior prom, hardly even your second; but he was respectable enough for you to be seen on his arm for one night.

Taking one last look at yourself in your vanity mirror, you smoothed your hands down the front of your dress. It was a beautiful baby pink ball gown with lace trim and puffy sleeves. Before you can think better of it, before you can feel guilty for it, you imagine Steve’s reaction when he sees you tonight.

Steve Harrington. Your best friend since diapers. Your mothers grew up together, so naturally when they found out they were pregnant at nearly the exact same time, it only made sense that they would orchestrate your friendship immediately.

As it turns out, not much orchestrating would be required. The second your little baby brains could comprehend what it meant to love another person, the rest was history. Wherever you went, Steve went too. You’re not sure when your feelings for him started to change. The usual calm that washed over you whenever you were in his presence one day seemed to transform into something different. You felt nervous, like someone had released a net of butterflies into your stomach.

You clear your head with a harsh shake and grab your clutch off the bed, making your way downstairs. Michael is waiting for you with a green corsage in a shiny translucent box. ‘That's Sweet,’ you think, “if only it matched my dress.’ 

–

Upon arriving at the gym, the first thing you do, consciously or not, is scan the room for your best friend. You spot him quickly, his perfectly manicured hair and well-pressed suit making him hard to miss. Even harder to miss is the gorgeous, curly haired brunette resting her head on his shoulder.

Nancy Wheeler.

They’ve been together for over a year at this point, even joining your close knit circle of friends. Despite this, you can’t help the nagging sense of jealousy stabbing at your chest, making your face heat up. You tell yourself it’s the humidity inside the gymnasium, and not the fact that you’d give anything to be in her position. You quickly abandon your date and try not to feel guilty for it, making your way over to the happy couple.

“Steve!” You call as you come further into their line of sight.

“Hey you!” Steve stands and gives you a tight hug. “Hey!’ you greet, returning the embrace. He can’t help the way his eyes quickly travel down the expanse of you, noticing the shape this dress gives your body. He prays to any listening God that his girlfriend didn’t notice, that you didn’t notice. “Hey Nance.” You address her with a polite smile. She gives you a hug without warning. Another thing that irks you about Nancy Wheeler: that girl is impossible to hate. You have every reason to despise her, and yet you can’t. She’s kind, funny, strong-willed and beautiful. She’s so ‘girl next door’, she’s so…not you. Occasionally you’ve wondered if it’s a front, that she can’t possibly be that perfect.

“Where’s Michael?” She asks inquisitively; like she genuinely cares where your douchebag date has run off to. A quick scan of the room reveals he’s already talking up another girl by the photobooth. There’s not one part of you that gives a shit. “We were just thinking about grabbing some food, wanna come with?” Steve nods his head toward the various appetizers they have set up on tables decorated with gaudy tinsel and tablecloths. “Yeah, why not?”, you smile and it doesn’t reach your eyes.

–

An hour and 2 cups of spiked punch later, ‘Heaven’ by Bryan Adams starts to play and you feel like you might hurl. Nancy’s face quickly lights up and she gives her date a knowing look, “Steve! Let's dance! Please??”. She’s immediately pulling him away from the table where you’ve been watching them flirt all night. Her delicate hand resting on his bicep, his large one finding a home on her thigh. He sends you a sympathetic look as he rises; sorry that he has to leave you there, sorry that you won’t be slow dancing with anyone tonight. He has no idea.

Your date is long gone. The two of you going together was a ticket inside and nothing more.

The air in the gym is suffocating and frankly smells of sweaty basketball shorts, so you decide to make your way outside for some fresh air. The romantic serenade of Bryan Adams’ voice is nothing more than a quiet lullaby as you lean against the brick wall of your high school.

You hear him before you see him. “Hey stranger,” the open door momentarily lets the humidity escape and you feel it wash over your skin. “you alright?” he asks with a half smile.

“Yeah just,” you say looking around, “getting some air is all,” returning the expression. He imitates you and decides to lean on the wall, a little too close for comfort. You’re all but slapped across the face with his scent. Cinnamon, a no doubt expensive musky cologne, and sweat. You can feel him looking at you, so you decide to meet his gaze; praying that he can’t see the crimson shade of red creeping up your neck and cheeks simply from standing next to him. You feel so pathetic at times like these. 

“Nance found a couple of her girlfriends, figured it’d be a good time for a smoke.” He pulls a cigarette out of his suit jacket pocket, and lights it. His hand cupped to cover the breeze.

“Those’ll kill ya, you know?” you smirk, knowing. You’ve always teased him for his bad habits, especially this one. “Yeah well,” he says in an inhale, “now’s as good a’ time as any, right?”

He grins at you, smug. It sends you reeling and you hope your thundering heartbeat doesn’t give you away. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

After a few minutes of silence, he stomps his cigarette out on the pavement and turns to fully face you. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and your breath hitches in your throat.  Steve’s complimented you before, thousands of times. So why does this feel like you’ve just been slammed into a wall of concrete?

“Steve…”

You feel like he’s getting closer. You’ve definitely had too much to drink.

Before you can stop yourself or even comprehend what’s happening, you vomit all the contents of your stomach directly onto Steve’s perfectly polished loafers. He yelps, most in surprise, slightly in horror. Despite that undeniable foulness of the situation, his hands immediately move to hold your hair back, just in case you aren’t, well, finished. 

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started crying. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re okay,” he soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” He starts to lead you to his car in the parking lot, leaving you here alone not an option for him. “What about Nancy?” you sob, “I’ll come back and get her, honey. Don’t worry.” Honey. You almost puke again.

Once he settles you into the passenger seat of his pristine BMW, you watch as he toes off his shoes and throws them in the garbage. When he slides into the driver's seat and turns on the ignition, he turns and brings a palm up to cradle your jaw. “Guess I’m gonna have to keep an eye on ya next time,” he chuckles, “can’t handle your mildly spiked punch.” You groan, but give a breathy chuckle of your own, “Just drive, Harrington.”

When you arrive home, you breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of your family car in the driveway. Your mother would certainly pitch a fit if she saw you like this - mascara streaked down your face, an obnoxious yellow stain down the front of your once flawless dress. Steve leads you upstairs with a hand on the small of your back, and a palm cradling your elbow. You know you’re not drunk, and you’re almost positive that wasn’t the reason you spilled your guts. But the alternative to just letting Steve take care of you would be admitting that you love him, that you’re in love with him.

You don’t bother taking your makeup off, Steve just helps you change into an old t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. “Lights on or off?” He asks as he pulls the covers up and over you, “Off, please.” he gives you a little two-finger salute, “you got it.” Just as he’s reaching underneath your lamp shade you whisper, “Steve?” he looks, “yeah trouble?” “I’m sorry for ruining your night…and throwing up on your shoes.” you give a sheepish look. Even though he would have every right to be, you know he’s not mad at you.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head,”the shoes we can discuss at a later date,” he shoots you a wink, making sure you know he’s only teasing.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Without another word he closes the bedroom door, bathing you in darkness. Just before you succumb to sleep, you’re filled with dread at the thought that you’re gonna remember this in the morning.

Cheers to senior year.

[mxstellatayte]

Daniel and morning head

nsfw under the cut <3 minors can lurk but please do not interact!

you really can't resist it. not when you wake up with your head on his chest, his arm thrown around your shoulders creating a cocoon of safety for you. as gently as you can, you wiggle down the bed and settle between daniel's legs, tugging his boxers down just enough to free his erection. he stirs in his sleep when your hand comes into contact with his cock, and you let a glob of saliva fall from your lips and onto your hand, easing the slide.

daniel's never been a heavy sleeper, and it comes in handy (heh) when you wake up a little extra turned on. take today, for example. when your lips come into contact with the tip of his cock, letting your tongue press against it just so, he fidgets once more, but this time you know he's close to waking up. as always, your hand that isn't stroking at the rest of his length reaches up his torso, and his own hand meets you halfway, lacing his fingers with yours. you remove yourself from his dick just long enough to whisper a soft "good morning, danny," before resuming your efforts, and he mumbles out something that seems like a similar greeting, but it's barely intelligible.

you have the strategy to bring daniel to the edge down to a t. after being in a relationship for years, one would hope so. you have the technique so perfected, in fact, that it's become second nature to you. danny's big. so big, in fact, that it's fairly difficult to take him all in your mouth. instead, you opt for letting your saliva (and his precum) drip out of your mouth and onto your hand which strokes what you can't take into your mouth. you focus your attention on working magic with your tongue, and the grunts and moans that tumble past danny's lips are music to your ears.

before long, though, the moans turn slightly more coherent, murmurs of "oh, baby, i'm close" and "fuck, darling, just like that." his comments only make you double your efforts, and it isn't long before he's cumming down your throat and you gladly swallow every drop. when you climb back up his torso, leaving soft kisses in your wake, and finally, finally, connect your lips to his, danny smiles when he can taste his own cum in your mouth.

[kisses4kaia]

And if request Art and Patrick threesome during a camping trip then i’m the issue

anon!! how dare you ?!??!! unacceptable—thank u for 1.7k🫂. (fwb!patrick, fwb!art, handjob, etc. mdni.)

summer was always a haze with the three of you. spending each night in a stuffy motel as you traveled vast distances for tournaments, leisure, or whatever needed tending to, got tiring—fast.

with school out of the way, you made the most of your free hours with your two best friends. but now, after two months of back-to-back games on a multitude of continents, you were all in need of a break. and according to patrick, a forest camping trip was as good as any—sexier, too, whatever that meant.

the roadtrip was an endeavor of its own, patrick’s jeep he’d gotten for his 17th birthday 3 years ago transporting the trio of you out of the suburbs of town into the outskirted woods.

and well, you may or may not have been intentional when letting them make out with you, grope, pet, and bite the whole way to the wooded mountains outside of town. however, their greedy hands were always stopped just above the golden crest of your belt. annoyingly, you’d push them off of you and hop into the passenger seat, leaving them hard and frustrated. “c’mon,” patrick groaned your name. “what’s going on, man?” he’d beg, but you’d only shrug. “just not feeling it right now, that’s all.”

but finally, when the sky was making its daily transition from enlightened to dusk, the jeep was parked in a clearing within the forest and the back was opened up. the seats were pushed down to allow for all of your car-camping gear to be set up: a thin mattress laying down the floor, pillows, throw blankets, chargers and other necessities all strewn about the stuffy car.

and after dinner (leftover wingstop from the drive), the three of you retired to your pillows, the boys’ bodies on either side of you, legs tangled in with yours.

finding serenity in the warmth of the blankets and pillows and man-sized cuddles sandwiching you, plus the owl’s call and nearly audible twinkling of the stars in un-light-polluted night sky, you found yourself latching onto a dream of a US open trophy. but, all your hopes were cut short by a soft pair of lips sticking onto your neck, sucking on your jugular.

another mouth found its way onto your wrist, kissing up your arm til it found your shoulder, at which it then moved from the blade to your shut eyelids, finally to nipping at your earlobe. you knew that had to be patrick, him never being one to stay put in one place for long.

art was needier, kisses on your neck intensifying as his middle grinded up against your thigh, whimpers leaking through desperate nips and wet pecks. “please, can you touch me?” art whispered in your ear, and you found your hand gravitating towards his waistband. “‘course, baby.”

“thank you, thanks so much,” art muttered as he felt your hand wrap around the base of his cock, starting slow as you began to pump and then sliding up to circle your thumb around the achy weep of his tip. patrick whined, feeling slightly neglected as he indulged in the lovely sounds you were pulling from his blonde friend. you were quick to move your hand from art’s hair to patrick’s need, sliding past the confines of his sweats and boxers.

you stroked them both with equal vigor, speeding up and slowing down at the same time for both boys. you knew what you were doing, and so did they. somehow, the synchrony, the knowing that the two best friends were feeling equally as good together, everything, made it so much hotter, and that much more erotic.

the best friends locked eyes with each other, nodding with that look in their eye. there was a mutual understanding between the two mindless, whimpering, males, and all it took was an unspoken three, two, one… and they were spilling their loads into their boxers and onto your hands with obscenely loud, lost in the night moans.

pulling both your arms out of the pants of your best friends, you licked both clean before sliding under the thin fleece throw blanket barely covering half of each of the boys’s bodies. “night night.” you bid sweetly, as if you hadn’t just given the pair the strongest orgasm they’d experienced in a long time.

“yeah, night, baby.” “goodnight.”

[ervotica]

rafe loves it when he comes home to you. you're an almost permanent resident of the cameron household, spending more time there than you do in your own home- not that anyone minds. you're an adored member of the family, kind to everyone and always smiling. plus, you mellow out rafe's temper big time.

when rafe is late to get home for whatever reason, you’re always in his bed when he returns. curled up in something or other you’ve stolen from his closet, dead asleep. he tiptoes around you and then climbs in, soft with affection at the way your body gravitates to him unconsciously. you wrap yourself around him but never stir, your face- peaceful and slack with sleep- smushed against his bare shoulder. his arms hook around your waist to pull you closer and you murmur something indiscernible before going right back to snoring quietly.

rafe cameron is soft on you, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it.

[sympqthyy]

safe haven | jj maybank au

· · ─────────── ·𖥸·───────────· ·

summary: After a fight with his dad, JJ Maybank seeks comfort by sneaking into your room. Vulnerable and shaken, he finds comfort in your embrace as you soothe him with gentle words and tender care.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸·───────────· ·

JJ Maybank was a mess of emotions as he climbed through your bedroom window. The moonlight cast a soft glow on his disheveled blonde hair and the fresh bruise blossoming on his cheek. He winced as he swung his legs over the sill, but the pain seemed to melt away the moment he saw you waiting there, eyes wide with concern.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Can I stay here for a while?”

Without waiting for an answer, JJ collapsed onto your bed, his head landing gently on your stomach. You could feel his body shaking with the silent sobs he tried to hold back. Your fingers found their way to his hair, threading through the soft strands in a soothing rhythm.

“What happened, JJ?” you asked softly, your voice filled with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“I had another fight with my dad,” JJ mumbled, his voice muffled against your shirt. “I just… I couldn’t stay there.”

Your heart broke at the vulnerability in his voice. “I’m so sorry, JJ. You don’t deserve that. Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head before he shifted closer, wrapping his arms around your waist, seeking the comfort and security that only you could provide. You continued to play with his hair, your touch gentle and reassuring.

“You always make things better,” he sighed, his breath warm against your skin.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll always be here for you, JJ. Always.”

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

mini blurbs???? lmk

BACK ON THAT BULLSHIT

GIMME LIKE A WEEK OR TWO AND I GOT YALL W SOME MORE STUFF TO READ😭😭😭😭

[amoraffairs]

❁ Watermelon, Surfing & Butterflies

summary: meeting JJ & him becoming an absolute simp for you at first glance

“Alright I’m here” JJ announces as he walks into the surf shop. John B glares at him. “JJ we opened two hours ago.” The boys finally opened their surf shop they dreamed about, but we struggled with the actual working part.

JJ glances at you, who looks around the shop confused. As if,you’re not sure what you’re looking for. JJ could feel his cheeks flush just by looking at you.

You were wearing a flowy sundress, covered with tiny flowers, a bunch of brightly designed bracelets on your wrist, and dangly earrings of a shape he couldn’t make of.

Everything about seemed like you walked out of a Jane Ally—Jane Alston—Jane whatever book Kie mentioned. That didn’t stop the urge he felt to walk over to you.

“You’re right. Going to get started right now” JJ says walking towards.

“Wait really—Oh ok “ John B tells him a teasing tone in his voice.

JJ glares at John B but still continuing making his way toward you.

“You need help” His questions startles you as you been focused on trying to find what you were looking for.

“Oh um no thank you—actually yes please” JJ smiles which makes you feel at ease.

“Do you know what surf wax is. I attempted surfing the other day & I kept slipping off my board. I’ve got like five big bruises to prove it. Anyway the internet said surf wax was supposed to help with that.” You ramble.

“You live in OBX & are just surfing now?” It was rare to find someone at Outer Banks who didn’t know how to surf.It was staple there.

“Ohh i’m not from here. I just moved here. I start college here. I mean technically it’s community college. I decided if I can only attend community college then I might as well attend somewhere pretty.” JJ wouldn’t be so sure about the pretty part, but he wasn’t going to crush your fantasy.

Butterflies. Your earrings are butterflies, JJ finally noticed. JJ interrupts his starring and realizes you’re waiting on him to answer your question.

“Oh surf wax, yeah we have surf wax. “ He says, directing you towards the section where it’s located. He points out all the different scents before you finally decide on watermelon.

You were about to leave the store, thanking JJ for his help before JJ blurted, “You know, if you're still struggling with surfing we offer lessons.” They don’t, that wasn’t a thing.

“Really?” You ask hopeful. Any help you could get would mean so much.

“Of course, just stop by any time & Ill teach you” JJ knew how much of a fool he was making of himself, how desperate he looked but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out.

You let out a smile. A genuine smile, one that instantly causes JJ to make it his life mission to have you smiling all the time.

Once you leave the shop, JJ turns around to find John B & Sarah watching.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up” JJ mutters but is ignored by John B mocking him.“Oh I’ll teach you”

[ellecdc]

ELLE ELLE ELLE I COMETH TO THEE WITH DESIRE OF SALVATION

poly marauders x reader who's quiet at first but as the relationship progresses/as she spends more time around the boys she gets crazier and stuff and like has the sense of humor of a teenage boy or smth 😭

hi ash!!!! sorry for the wait. also, I couldn't really think of anything too long for this but here's a little baby blurb/scene on our reader with the sense of humour of a teenage boy <333

poly!marauders x fem!reader

CW: mention of boners/dicks, insinuation of activities with said dicks idk it's not explicit

“Quick question, Moony; when did our sweet darling angel turn into such a gremlin?” Sirius asked as he watched you and James cackle to yourselves in the dark hallways of the Slytherin dungeons.

The boys had planned a prank on Slytherin tonight, and you had insisted on tagging along. If you had told Sirius a year ago that the shy, quiet girl who could barely hold eye contact and flushed furiously at any compliment would be actively participating in one of their pranks, he would have laughed in your face.

But alas, here you were.

Cackling so hard you were clutching at your stomach and nearly falling over.

All because James had given you the can of muggle spray paint and you used it to draw a dick on the wall.

“I think she’s been hanging out with us too much.” Remus commented with a smile, leaning some of his weight onto the shorter boy as they watched you skip down the hall to paint another.

“I mean, dicks, really?” Sirius harrumphed. “That’s not tasteful at all.”

Remus chuckled and pinched Sirius’ bum. “That’s not quite what you were saying last night.” He said with a wink as he started down the hall after you, leaving Sirius a blushing (and semi-hard) mess in the dark corridor. 

He could only bring himself to follow after the three of you when he heard the likes of Peeves moving through the dungeons and he was horrified at the idea of the poltergeist finding him with a hard on so close to the Slytherin common room. 

[willowsages-blog]

Summer plans: Will miller x female reader

- Sharing an ice cream cone together

- enjoying that feeling on the beach and being exhausted & ( feeling the suns warmth on his skin.

- feeding each other fresh berries, will presses the juice onto your lips,

- making date lists/ bucket lists

- wearing his favorite dress that will got for you.

[2-dsimp]

iam really wondering if I marry Uriel would he wear a cute lingerie set for our wedding night ???

1k followers Milestone EvEnt 🎉

Only should you mention it.

A/n: Now onto the next milestone event for 1.5k followers poll to be posted soon 👀

[kimmie2me]

A Taste of Care

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pro Hero!Bakugou x AFAB!Pro Hero!Reader

.....

The invitation to the annual Pro Hero Gala lands with a quiet thud on your desk, and you nearly ignore it, honestly – it’s one of those events everyone expects top heroes to attend, but no one actually enjoys. You wonder how the organizers can still think it’s a good idea. You glance over at Bakugou, who rolls his eyes the second he catches you even looking at it. “Not a chance,” he grumbles, turning back to whatever report he’s pretending to focus on. “Hell’ll freeze over before I show up there.”

“Yeah, but…they invited us both.” You can’t help it—the thought of skipping nags at you, guilt bubbling up. You turn the envelope in your hands, debating. “I mean, if we don’t go, they’ll probably think we don’t care or something…”

“Good,” he mutters, "Because I do not care."

You make the decision then, mostly because you can’t imagine telling someone who went through the trouble of inviting you that you just… didn’t feel like going. “Fine,” you say, sighing. “I’ll go, then. You don’t have to worry about it.”

A heavy pause lingers, and then Bakugou’s gaze snaps up. “You what?”

“I’ll go. On your behalf. It’s fine,” you insist, smiling a little to soften it. But there’s something in his eyes, and you think he feels that tug of guilt too, though he’d never say it. Finally, he just sighs and mutters, “Fine, fine. I’m going. Don’t start whining about this later.”

And that’s how you end up at the Gala, arm in arm with one very reluctant Bakugou.

.....

You’ve barely been here for an hour, and though Bakugou’s already made three attempts to pull you towards the exit, you’re still here, being polite and nodding along as people pass by, each one taking a little energy from you with their relentless questions.

At some point, a waiter passes by with a tray of drinks, and you reach out, half-relieved for a distraction. The waiter places a delicate, glass thimble of juice in your hand, barely bigger than your thumb. You eye it, perplexed.

“One sip,” you murmur, taking a cautious taste. It’s sweet and refreshing—too good, actually, like someone figured out the perfect formula for juice. The flavor surprises you, so you hold it in your hands like you’re savoring a precious heirloom, taking tiny sips to make it last.

“Hey,” Bakugou says, turning back from where he’s been roped into some pointless conversation with another hero. His eyes narrow when he sees the minuscule cup in your hands. “You tryna torture yourself or somethin’? Why’re you drinkin’ it if you don’t even like it?”

You blink, mildly surprised by his assumption. “No, I do like it! It’s just... y’know... small. And I didn’t want to—um, ask for more.” You hesitate, aware of the ridiculousness of it all. “They might think I’m being greedy, you know?”

Bakugou makes a face, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re kiddin’ me.” He sounds genuinely irritated now, and it’s impossible not to feel embarrassed, though you give a nervous smile.

“No, no! It’s fine, 'Suki, really.” You tug at his sleeve to keep him from storming over to whoever poured this pathetic excuse for a drink, though he stares at you, unamused, for a moment.

“Fine,” he relents, still looking unconvinced. But when you try to wave him off a second time, and a third, his patience visibly thins. “Alright, that’s it.” He grabs your now empty cup with a sense of purpose, muttering under his breath as he maneuvers through the crowd. You reach out, embarrassed to death that he’d take the trouble to do this.

“Katsuki, you don’t have to—please, it’s okay! Really, it’s fine!”

He gives you a brief, sideways glance, his expression somewhere between exasperation and begrudging affection. “For god’s sake, Cupcake, I’m doin’ it ‘cause I want to.”

The bartender hardly has time to react before Bakugou is right in front of him, holding up the empty cup like it’s some sort of evidence. “Listen up. This microscopic cup you handed out, where the hell d’ya even find one that small?” he demands, raising an eyebrow at the bartender, who looks both puzzled and terrified by Bakugou’s intensity.

The bartender stammers something about portion sizes, but Bakugou cuts him off, pointing to the counter like he’s about to place an order in a war zone. “Whatever you put in here, put it in a real glass this time, yeah? And don’t skimp. What is it, anyway?”

“Uh—it’s, um, a mix of, uh, passion fruit, lemon, and a hint of, uh… elderflower…”

“Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to know.” He watches as they pour the drink, nodding in satisfaction once they fill a glass you can actually hold with more than two fingers. When he finally returns, he looks triumphant, almost like he just completed some crucial, life-or-death mission.

“Here,” he says, handing you the glass with that rare softness in his eyes that he only gets around you.

And as you take the first sip, savoring the full taste this time, you glance up at him, fighting a smile.

“Y’know,” he mutters, clearly aware of his over-the-top reaction, “I ain’t lettin’ you get ripped off on my watch. ‘Specially if it’s somethin’ you like.”

You savor every last drop of the drink, finally taking fuller sips now that it’s in an actual glass. The elderflower and passion fruit mix is refreshing, and it brings a soft smile to your lips every time you taste it. And when you finish the last drop, you look up at Bakugou, feeling a bit embarrassed but grateful.

He’s watching you intently, arms crossed with a proud little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “All done?” he asks, clearly pleased with himself.

You nod, setting the glass down. “Yeah. Thanks, 'Suki,” you murmur, hoping the slight blush on your cheeks isn’t too obvious. “We can go now.”

Bakugou’s face lights up in an almost imperceptible way. He clears his throat, looking around as if anyone might overhear, but the relief is clear in his expression. “’Bout damn time.”

A couple of weeks pass, and life returns to the usual pro hero routine—patrols, training, the occasional event, and repeat. After a long, grueling day of patrol, you return home exhausted and immediately head to the shower, letting the hot water wash away the day’s aches and strains. The warmth is a balm for your sore muscles, and by the time you get out, you feel somewhat revived, if not a little sleepy.

You toss on a cozy set of clothes, ready to finally relax and start prepping dinner. You make your way to the kitchen, but as you open the fridge, you notice something unusual: a piece of paper stuck to one of the shelves. Curious, you pull it out and immediately recognize Bakugou’s handwriting, all sharp lines and bold strokes.

In the middle of the note is a hastily-drawn little doodle of himself, smirking with a thumbs-up, along with the words: “Surprise. You better not ration this either.”

You stare at the note, momentarily confused. What’s he talking about?

Then you glance down, and your eyes widen.

Sitting on the shelf, right next to the vegetables and leftovers, is a large glass pitcher filled to the brim with the juice from the gala—your favorite mix of passion fruit, lemon, and elderflower.

A laugh bubbles up from your throat, and you can’t help but shake your head in wonder. Of course he’d go through the trouble of making an entire pitcher for you. And not only that, but he left a note, reminding you not to hold back or ration it like some precious artifact.

You pour yourself a full glass, taking a long sip, and the familiar taste brings a warm, giddy feeling to your chest. For a moment, you just stand there in your quiet kitchen, holding your glass and staring at Bakugou’s note with a grin that won’t leave your face.

It’s just so… him. Thoughtful in the most roundabout way possible.

You take another sip, glancing at the time. He’ll still be on patrol for a bit, but you already can’t wait to tell him just how much his little surprise means to you.

[mxstellatayte]

sharing a bed for the first time with Lando

this is such fluffy bullshit i love it (with a little bit of angst bc i couldn't help myself.) this one is also a little bit short but EEEEEH i still like it hehe

"lando?" your hands quake with anxiety and your stomach sinks. your bare feet almost freeze on the cold tile of lando's apartment. you can hear his soft snores coming from his bedroom, guiding you to safety like the north star did for sailors. eventually, your hand on the walls helps you find his doorway, and you smile faintly when you realize he left it open. "lando?" you say again, a bit louder this time, but his snores stop.

"hmm?"

"lan, i had a nightmare. don't think i'll be able to sleep again."

"c'mere, princess. i've got you." in the miniscule amount of light filtering through his windows, you're able to see his arms open, his body outstretched on the bed. are you really about to do this? yeah, your feelings for him are nothing if not obvious, and you're terrified of losing the friendship you have with him it it means you take the risk of making a move on him, even if you're almost certain that the feelings are reciprocated. are you really about to risk your friendship with him over a silly nightmare? "you gonna stand there or are you gonna come here and let me help you?"

and, fuck, if his voice alone doesn't make you question your morals, you don't know what will. without hesitation, you step into his bedroom and lay down with him. lando's arms wrap around your shoulders, and his signature scent envelops you and soothes your nerves like a healing balm. you sigh deeply, immediately relaxing into his hold. why haven't you done this sooner? sure, you're just casually sharing a bed with your best friend in the entire world, but, wow, his presence is so much more soothing than any massage or day at the spa that you've ever experienced.

and then you're deeper in sleep than you've ever been, safe in lando's arms.

[jb5lover]

jude fucking you so hard and you’re trying to get the words out to tell him you’re about to cum and without u even forming the sentence, he just strokes your cheek and is all “i know, i know” 🤭🤭

he just loves how pathetically speechless you get when you’re so close to the finish line, it’s so hard for him to decide whether he should coddle you or just tease you a little bit. most of the time, he just chooses to settle on something in between.

the second you let out the whiny moans in that high frequency, he knows that you’re about to let go for him. despite not being able to tell him that verbally, the way your eyes pooled and your legs wrapped around his lower back told him everything he needed to know. all you could do was moan out his name and hope that he’d give you what you needed. “i know baby, you’re so close, i can feel it,” he teased, rubbing his hand on your tear-stained cheeks gently. “just let go, i’m right here” and he’d keep on urging you until you felt that pent up bubble burst

[purplecoffee13]

Mr. Sunshine - Part Four* (final part)

Summary: “You take Harry back to your dorm, things go down, and confessions are made.”

Wc: 2.5k

Tropes: grumpy!MC x sunshine!Harry

Warnings: SMUT, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, gentle dom!harry

A/N: Happy Friday loves! I finished writing the last part of Mr. Sunshine today, and I wanted to share it right away! I loved writing this story line so much and I’ll definitely do check-ups on Sunshine!Harry. This chapter is shorter than the previous ones, but I almost cried while writing it. (this may also have to do with hormones, but oh well) enjoy!!!

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

From the moment you and Harry are inside your room and the door shuts, his lips are on yours again. Your lips are tingling with how much they had missed Harry's in the short moment that you opened your front door. But now you were inside, walking backwards until Harry pushed you onto your bed, slowly climbing over you.

Your roommate had gone to her parents' house for the weekend, as it was her mom's birthday, so you had the room all to yourself tonight.

You let out the smallest fraction of a whine at the feel of Harry's fingers tracing up and down your body, feeling every last bit of you in the process. You feel the way Harry's lips cockily curls up before engulfing you into an even deeper kiss, with that sparking an even louder sound of pleasure from your mouth.

"Fuck. Such pretty sounds you make, sunshine." Harry says breathlessly in between kisses, his mouth leaving yours and latching onto your neck, kissing his way down. Your heat is on fire, at least it feels like that. Harry's touch is so familiar and it felt like it belongs on your skin.

"Harry..." you roll your eyes as he sucked on a sensitive spot on your neck, fondling your breast with his free hand. You wrap your legs around him in an attempt to bring him closer. You need him as close as he can get; you need him inside you.

"Talk to me, sunshine, what do you need?" He asks in a soft, teasing tone. You let out a whimper, your head too fuzzy to create any real sentences right now. When he senses that you aren't going to answer any time soon, he decides to taunt you some more. "I can't give you anything if you don't tell me what you need."

He lets another few seconds go by, and when still no answer fall from your lips, he starts to pull away. And just like clockwork, you break.

"No!" You yelp, propping yourself up on tour elbows. Your eyes widen at the sound of your own sudden desperation. You spot the amused glint in Harry's eyes, and sigh.

"I—... I need you."

The words leave your mouth in an irritated mumble, and it's when Harry realizes he's got you right where you've got him ever since that first project.

"C'mon sunshine, you can do better than that. Say it like you mean it." He demands, grinning from ear to ear as he leans over you again. You let yourself lay back on the mattress, and breathe. With his scent above you and in your memory, you allow yourself to let it all go. Let the pressure and the pride flow away.

"I need you, Harry. I need you so bad. Don't be mean, don't keep me empty... please?" You go against your own rationality, instead doing something that you've secretly longed your life to do, let someone else take control. Harry just stares at you, eyes nearly popping out of his sockets at your sly words. He swallows.

"Holy fuck... Of course, baby, I'll give you everything you need. Everything I have." He says, hiking up your dress and taking off your panties. Harry sits back, watching your wet cunt all spread out for him. He cannot believe you are here, lying in front of him with a hunger in your eyes that he only believed him to be capable of.

His thumb traces over your clit, slightly rubbing it. You gasp at the contact, it sending a shiver down your spine. With lazy eyes, you stare up at him, waiting for his next move. You squirm, the tender touch not being enough in the slightest. Harry laughs, tutting you as he shakes his head.

"Desperate little thing." He murmurs before sticking a finger inside your slick pussy. A strangled moan escapes your lips, your eyes falling shut at the feel of his long finger — and soon fingers, because he is quick to add another — pumping in and out of you. A string of sounds come from you as Harry keeps on digging his fingers in and out of you. He leans forward, his breath fanning against you ear.

"Is this good for you, sunshine?" He asks rhetorically, because the way you are crumbling under him is indication enough. He seems to know so too. "That's what I thought, baby. Just needed someone to take care of you, didn't you? Well, I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

His digits drive deeper into you, and you bit your lips to contain your moans at the combination of his fingers and his filthy words.

"Is that it, hmm? Need someone to take control? Take your mind off everything other than cumming over and over again?" Harry asks further, and you let out a strangled 'yes'. He chuckles lowly before leaning back, instead paying full attention to your pussy.

You let out somewhat of a scream when Harry's lips plant themselves onto your clit, your back arching from the sudden rush of pressure. Your orgasm is nearing, and Harry's lips will only have you riding out your high in no time.

"Oh my god... I'm going to cum—" but before you can even finish your sentence, Harry intensifies the suction on your clit, and soon you are coming all over his fingers. He makes sure to pump out your high, then softly taking his fingers out of you. You nearly come again at the sight of him sticking his own fingers into his mouth to taste your cum.

In a flash, you are reaching for his pants. You unbuckle his seatbelt and lower his pants and underpants, letting his cock spring free. You are about to return the favor he just gave you, but Harry puts your hands away.

"No foreplay for me, I just want to get inside of you." He says in a husky tone that has you melting for him. "Do you have a condom?"

Fuck.

"No." You say, your voice sounding strained as the word leaves your mouth. No! You can't believe you don't have a condom. Actually you can, because you didn't hook up with anyone in a really long time. But you couldn't not do this. You needed Harry inside of you. When he pulls away from you, you start to panic.

"No! Wait, no. Just get inside me. We can do it raw. I'm clean. I'll take the morning after pill." You start to plead, but it dies down when you see Harry grab his wallet and pull a condom out of it.

"You— you had a condom in your wallet?" You ask him hesitantly . He shakes his head.

"I have condoms in my car. I took some with me when you invited me in." He shrugs, wrapping the condom around his hard shaft. He leans over you once again, lining himself up with your slick cunt.

"You're sure about this?" He asks, the faintest hint of a smirk on his face, because at this point he is just making you suffer.

"Harry, stop teasing. I can't wait any longer, I need you so bad— ah!" You interrupt yourself with a loud moan when Harry pushes himself into you. He lets out an equal volume groan at the feel of his cock buried inside your pussy. He's been dreaming about this since forever. He never dared to dream he'd ram inside you after you begged for his cock. It strokes his ego in a way that nothing else ever had.

Harry begins pounding into you harshly, your whole body and bed moving along with his violent thrusts. You try to hold onto his arms for steadiness, but Harry has a different idea. He pulls up your dress over your head, but leaves it around your arms, forcing them to stay above your head. It restricts you from having further authority of how your body bounces around, and you are now completely at his mercy.

"This is it, huh? What you needed? Getting fucked so hard until the only thing your pretty mind can remember is my name?" Harry growls, throwing a leg over your shoulder so he can dive deeper into you. He succeeds at doing it, and his rewarded with a loud 'yes!' from you. "Just needed me to take the reins, right? So bratty for me during the day, but you just want to give all that control to me in between the sheets, don't you?"

You don't want to answer, and even if you did, you can't. Harry has been fucking you completely dumb for the past minutes and even the thought of a coherent sentence can't be processed right now. Harry laughs at the way you lay there,

"Don't try and deny it. The way you begged for my raw cock proves enough. Poor baby was nearly gonna cry at the thought of not getting my cock." Harry's thrusts become harder, having you nearly flying off the bed if it isn't for him holding you down by your hips. Your tits shake along and the sight of it is more than he can bare.

"Well you don't have to worry, sunshine. I'll  give it you whatever you want. Although, I'm sure that you'll be satisfied with whatever I choose to give you. You'll just lay there and take it, won't you?"

That's what does it for you. It takes you over the edge. Your eyes fall shut as you scream out Harry's name, and even the way he keeps on hammering into you fades for a second as the high hits you. By the time you see clearly again, you notice that Harry's pace hasn't faltered, and he is even circling your clit with his thumb.

With your jaw slack, you try to protest against the overstimulation, but every sound that comes out sounds like you are in total agreement with it. And you are, but you just haven't felt this much... ever.

"You need to cum with me, baby. I have to feel it." Harry orders. You scream out at the harshness of the circles he is rubbing, but the slight pain only inches you closer to the edge you had visited only a minute ago.

"G—gonna cum again, ah fuck!" You tell him, slowly opening your eyes to find his. "Come for me, come inside me. Please, please."

Harry's pupils dilate at the way you are begging for him. It is more than he can handle. His thrusts become sloppy as he lets out a string of curse words, hot spurts of cum spurting into the condom as he groans out your name. He lets himself fall forward, steadying himself with his arms, that lean against the bed on both sides of your body.

He leans forward, planting his lips against yours. The kiss is smooth and tender, filled with the love that has been pouring out since he saw you for the first time.

"I can't believe you're mine." Harry smiles at you like a fool as you run your hand through his soft hair. You cock an eyebrow, playfully.

"I wasn't aware we had established such labels yet." You argue, and Harry shakes his head, laughing at your need to have control over everything.

"I think that the fact that I'm still inside of you counts for establishment, does it not?" Harry counters with a smirk, leaving you speechless. Your silence soon turns into a chuckle, and you shut your eyes at how ridiculous this all is. Harry joins you in your laughter.

After a while, he pulls himself out of you carefully, studying your face to see if he is not accidentally hurting you. You hiss at the loss of the feel of him anyway, and it might hurt more mentally than physically to not have him fill you up anymore. It feels strangely empty. It is as that thought crosses your mind, you realize: you are utterly fucked. Literally and figuratively.

If you miss someone whose chest is still pressed against you, it is the result of the failure of your coping mechanism, and the success of years of trying. You look at Harry, who is now lying next to you, with big eyes.

"How did you do that?" You ask, scanning over his face.

"What?"

"Make love seem so easy." You blurt out before you can even become aware of what you just said. Your cheeks turn bright red once it dawns on you, and while you are sure your eyes radiate panic, his face is as calm and secure as ever.

"Because loving you is easy, sunshine." Harry answers simply. As if it isn't a big deal. As if he hasn't just confessed that he loves you. For some reason, he can't find it in himself to worry about you running away. It wouldn't have mattered if you did, he would have still said it. He just needed you to know.

Your eyes begin to water, and your ears are ringing in the aftermath of hearing a sentence you had always feared to be untrue. These past two years you had done nothing but keep your distance, from anything and everything, to the very point where you feared you could never change your mind if you wanted to. You were too far, and the wall around you was too tall for anyone to brave, including yourself.

And now you are lying next to someone who built a door between those bricks and waltzed through it as if entering his own house. How lucky you are to have someone change the construct of your mind's constraints and tell you it didn't feel hard, or difficult, or exhausting.

"Loving you sure is easier than tutoring you, Mr. Sunshine." You stifled out a laugh as your welled up eyes let a couple of tears roll over your face. Harry's mouth creeps up into a crooked smile, alike yours. He grabs your hips and pulls you on top of him.

"Mr. Sunshine, huh? Is that the title we are establishing?" He asks, stealing your answer away by interrupting you with a kiss. You let his lips run over yours, tongues dancing around each other, already having memorized each other's favorite steps. You lean back, nodding at him.

"You have always been more sunshine than me, anyway." You shrug, your fingers tracing over his chest. Harry's eyes analyze every bit of you, before locking with yours.

"Mr and Mrs. Sunshine, I like that." He hums in approval, his hands gliding up and down your upper thighs. You smile, leaning forward and letting yourself lay on top of him, head tucked in between his neck. Harry's hand immediately digs into your hair, toying with the strands as you take a deep breath. A full one, a safe one, a whole one. Harry's head shifts so his mouth his by your ear, and he whispers:

"I'll have you know that you are the biggest light of a person I know. You're not just Mrs. Sunshine, you are the sun, okay?"

You nod into his neck. "Okay."