#and every so often i wish i could force myself out of it and get a flip phone or something

[floralscented]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤBETTER BIRTHDAYS — vampire!dean

slowly, dean is learning to love his birthdays again, after going for decades without letting himself.

not what i intended to write, and not as good as i wish it was, but to be fair to myself i have sickness. and i'm NOT missing out on my beloved baby's birthday! if logistics don't make sense, i don't care. that's fiction baby! vampire!dean is just rent free so it was inevitable.

it wasn’t supposed to be possible.

it was one of those things that dean came to terms with when he’d been turned so long ago — a family? was not something that was personally in dean’s cards. he’d have an infinite life, yes, but any family he wanted would have to be made or created, and not in the way that he’d ever get a chance to hold something so small that was part him.

dean forgot often that the impossible seemed to happen a lot around him.

there was a moment when he thought that being with you was a fate destined for doom. but every step of the way, you’d helped convince him that decades of isolation did not equate to deserving said isolation, and slowly, he’d let you make a home in his heart.

you accepted him for what he was. you trusted him with all you had; let him into your heart, your house, and every room that was deigned yours. no secrets, you’d promised.

it was a promise you held true to, because on a day he’d always remember, june 27th, you’d sat him down and told him that you were pregnant. and, on top of that initial shock, you were three months along.

he’d used the word impossible over and over throughout your pregnancy. this was not something for dean to pour his hope into and get attached to. it had to be a mistake; it had to be a misunderstanding — something.

but on dean’s birthday, a day he refused to celebrate anymore because of how many he’d had, a day that you took into your own hands and made him celebrate anyway—

a little boy was born.

a son with his hair, his face, and your eyes. so human and so real that it stole his breath away, unable to breathe at all even if he wanted to try again.

and it only got more chaotic from there. the little boy was an absolute devil; just as dean had been before sam was born, and before his father sank into a depression that drowned both of them. cassius winchester was a little force with sharp teeth and an affinity for crawling after him everywhere that dean went.

everything about cassius was impossible. that was why he’d been given the name, after all; helmeted warrior, it meant, so nothing could take him, so nothing would try to. now that dean had him, it was not going to be so easy to pry him away.

it was cassius’s third birthday, which meant it was dean’s… he’d lost count, really. either way, it was an incredibly special day for you. your two boys, one grown and one anew, and while you didn’t fit the mold when it came to the family dynamic that your boys painted, you certainly made up for it with your enthusiasm.

“blood in the icing?” you’d asked dean the moment he stepped downstairs, cassius balanced on his hip. “would that make it any more edible for you? for cassy?”

dean, taken aback for a moment, raises his eyebrows. “what would you eat, then?”

“i’m sure a little iron in my diet won’t hurt me.”

his scoff is an amused one, his eyebrows furrowing when he feels a sharp nip on his fingertip. in cassius’s mouth is dean’s finger, gnawing on it like it were nothing more than a teething toy.

his lips quirk up. he hasn’t genuinely grinned in so long that it feels almost foreign all of the time to do it now, since he met you, and even more since cassius. “on second thought, it might not be a bad idea.”

you stop the stand mixer to glance up at them, your eyes glimmering with that look that dean always refused to address. so much love for one person always made him feel on edge, like one day it would all fall away, like everyone else he’d loved prior. his fears had never once deterred you. perhaps it was why he, too, loved you so fiercely.

“he finally learned how to use those little teeth?” you ask, circling around the kitchen island to stand in front of dean and cassius, your expression alight. “what a milestone, my love. and on your third ever birthday.”

it certainly was a milestone. cassius had not let up his biting, little pinches that were certainly going to leave his finger raw for a few hours while it tried to heal. already, dean was planning on tossing all of the teething toys in the house away; he did not care for them like he cared for dean’s pointer finger.

you press a kiss to dean’s cheek, cassius’s forehead, before turning back to the slightly/less-dusty kitchen again. it’d been practically gray before you, but you had to eat, didn’t you? the scattered leftovers of human and forest creature in the boxed refrigerator did nothing for you. but you stop quickly, your eyes widened when you spin back around.

“wait!” you say on a gasp, grabbing something from underneath the countertop. two somethings. very shiny somethings. you jog back up to dean, looping the string of one underneath his chin and planting the birthday hat securely on his head, and doing the same for cassius, albeit with a smaller one. “happy birthday, my boys.”

dean tries to not let it affect him so deeply. how long had it been since his birthday felt like something to be celebrated and not a burden? there were so many years of those feelings that he did not understand yet how to react in instances like this, in the sheer warmth that you and cassius’s joy brought to him.

you were well aware of dean’s affinity for privacy. he was reserved, had made a home in the reservation, and would not leave it, not when he was so comfortable. so you did not call upon his sired to come celebrate — especially not them, when he was only beginning to heal the self-deprecation that came from their being there.

you did, though, dust away his hallway of their paintings, and uncover his painting supplies again. it was special to him, after all, and a hobby he’d locked away for too long after realizing the solace he found in keeping memories forever was embedding him into the past.

the paints and the blank canvasses were neatly wrapped in your room, along with a smaller box — dean’s present pile. there were more toys wrapped in a pile next to it, toys that cassius was far too spoiled already to need, but deserved anyways.

dean is not amused by the blindfold you put over his eyes as you led him to your shared room. or really, he was incredibly amused, but not so much to find out that all it served for was a dramatic way to lead him to his gifts while cassius napped downstairs.

“there are much more fun things that we could do with this blindfold,” he grumbles from in front of you, “there are much more fun things that we have done with it.”

“it is okay to be selfish and accept gifts sometimes, dean,” you say back, lightly kicking open the door with your foot to guide him inside.

dean is at his most shy and timid, somehow, on his birthday. as if he could make himself invisible and shrunken enough to be forgotten about, as if this day was not as equally about dean as it was cassius. “you are well aware of how little birthday gifts i’ve gotten over these years, aren’t you?”

“that is why i’ve got you three today.”

he can’t see, but he can hear the rustling of wrapping paper. shifting around, moving him as you so please, until he’s sat on the edge of the bed, and you are sitting at his feet in front of him, can feel the warmth of your humanity seeping into his legs.

something heavy lands in his lap.

“you may take it off,” you hum, and dean is not surprised to see that when he does, you are wearing a smug grin that makes you all the more beautiful. “go on. open it. that’s why gifts exist; to be opened.”

“i have not gotten a birthday gift in a while,” dean says with a huff, lifting his eyes as he tears into the wrapping paper to meet yours, “but that does not mean i need the process explained—”

his words die in his throat.

his paints. the ones that created life out of people he’d long killed. his heart falters. his mind blanks.

“this—” you pat the biggest gift behind you; flat and hollow when your hand touches it, “is some of the canvases i found too. i was just thinking— well, about how you paint everything you love in case it leaves.”

dean can’t even find the words to respond. his eyes stay locked on yours with a vulnerability you rarely see. “but i’m not leaving. and cassius is not leaving. and i think a family portrait for the front entrance would look lovely, don’t you?”

his swallow is thick and unnecessary, but he feels the lump in his throat and simply can’t help it.

instead of addressing your words, or the paints in his lap, or anything, he looks at the third present sat in your lap. his voice is raw when it comes out. “what is that one?”

dean’s paintbrushes, he assumes. fits the theme, would complete the puzzle.

your lips curl in a little grin. “those are cassius’s building blocks and perhaps a toy train. i can’t spoil everything.”

the attempt at lightening the mood works. he sets the paints aside and leans forward, lifting your chin with one finger and reaching into your lap with the other of his hands. “i meant this, little devil.”

there is no explanation or comments from you this time, as he opens it. it was hasty, the way he tore in, feeling light and airy like he did as a child on christmas. it’d been a long time since dean had felt so free.

it was not paintbrushes as he assumed, though. for the second time in one evening, you’d shocked the words out of him.

impossible, his mind begins to repeat again, but it’s quieter. less insistent. the voice of his subconscious had already been proven wrong once before.

a pregnancy test with two lines sits in the little jewelry box you’d tucked it away in.

the lump in his throat is tight, heavier. his mouth opens, closes, opens again, and no words come out. dean is left holding a pregnancy test between his fingers like it might break, left staring at the one person who heard his cries for company and answered with a family.

a family. how long had it been since he let himself dream? of this, of you, of anything?

“i know it is yours and cassius’s day, but i figured…” you don’t even need to finish the sentence for dean to get it. this was something that he’d wanted desperately, a secret he shared only with you. his childhood was bleak and unforgiving. all dean wanted was a chance to start anew and make it better.

here it was, in the form of a stick and a woman and a toddler.

he is more ginger with the pregnancy test than he was with the paints. as much as he appreciated the sentiments being brought back up, painting sam and judas had pulled all of the fun and the peace out of the hobby. he had no intention of digging back into the part of himself that loved the art of creation, in any way.

but now, in his head, there’s the grant entrance of his manor. and above the fireplace is you next to him in acrylic, a little cassius painted onto his hip, and a little baby in your arms. it would be updated every time his children grew. it would be updated every year, maybe even, so he could have multiples of you in the dresses he loved so dearly, and to see the progression of his kids. his family.

the hand on your chin moves to the back of your neck, tugging you up and into his arms. his eyes close, breathing you in slowly. he’s always loved the warmth of your livelihood, and it felt that much more intense, knowing that there was another life now, too.

“you have a talent for making a man forget he doesn’t deserve this,” he whispers into your throat.

you grasp at the sleeves of his coat, the grin on your face evident even as its buried into his chest. he can feel it, the pull of your lips, your smiling mouth in his shirt. “i hope to foster that talent, then. to become an expert in bringing you a lifetime’s worth of better birthdays.”

dean doesn’t know how to tell you that these years with you have done plenty. this was all he needed — you and the family you brought to him — to have better days and better birthdays.

so he stays silent and holds you to him, letting himself slip away into this life that felt more and more like a wish come true with every passing day.

and it is only when the sounds of little footsteps start stomping up the stairs toward your room, toward his presents, that dean’s eyes lift up to meet the sleep mussed little boy babbling to himself — and the big brother t-shirt you’d had him in, only now noticed.

notes. i literally woke up just to write this quick asf & post it PLS. if it sucks my bad. i'm just a girl. happy bday my pookie beloved baby waby!!!

tags. @titsout4jackles @moonstruksandco @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @itzavahere @sagegreen17 @bruceewayne @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deansbeer @blushpinkdoll @warpedless @sabrinasopposite @k-slla @deansbite @foolinthera1n @honeyryewhiskey @angelblqde @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @fallbhind @florchids @figthoughts @beausling @chevroletdean @mccartneyqp @bluestrd @sthefferrete @rubyvhs @tortureddarkstar @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @theosaurous

[catboyllawliet]

i wish smartphones had never been invented for realsies. the things i would do if i wasn’t straight up addicted..

[etheraltides]

CHANGES 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pregnant!Reader

Summarize: all the changes in your body finally takes a toll on you as you’re getting ready for a special night.

Warning(s): body insecurities, pregnancy.

A/N: Are the small letters annoying? I’m not sure if I should keep my works with them or use the regular ones - let me know, please.

You stood in front of the mirror, hands trembling as you adjusted the fabric of your dress. It clung tightly around your belly, and every curve, every change in your body that had come with pregnancy, felt amplified under the soft light of the closet. You tried to see yourself as Rafe saw you, to embrace the way your body had changed, but it was like staring at a stranger. What happened to me?

Your mind raced with painful thoughts, each one heavier than the last. I don’t look like myself. I don’t even feel like myself.

The doubts came in waves, and with each one, your breath grew shakier. He’s going to look at me tonight and see how much I’ve changed. Maybe he’s already noticed. Maybe he’s already started wishing… What if he decides to go to someone prettier, thinner? Could I blame him?

A tear slipped down your cheek, unbidden and salty, stinging against your skin. And that’s when the door opened. Rafe entered, his footsteps soft and careful, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his face instantly softening.

He was getting used to your pregnancy mood swings by now but he hadn’t seen you crying often - it was usually you being clingy or acting like a momzilla.

“Hey, sweetheart…” His voice was gentle, and he took a slow step forward, his eyes scanning your face with concern. “What’s going on?”

You tried to force a smile, to play it off, but the effort only made your throat tighten. You looked down, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “I… I don’t know, Rafe. I just…” You swallowed hard, barely managing to get the words out. “I don’t feel like myself anymore. I feel… ugly.”

The word lingered in the air, raw and unguarded. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and even saying it aloud made it feel more real. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze, afraid of what you might see there.

Tonight would be the reopening party of the restaurant Rafe recently bought, a new milestone in his business career. Both of you were very excited for tonight and you couldn’t stop the guilty for not being able to control your own tears and mind just minutes prior of the event.

Rafe didn’t say anything for a moment, and when he reached out to take your hand, his touch was so tender that it made your heart ache. He guided you gently to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you so he could look up into your eyes.

“Look at me, love,” he whispered, his thumb brushing softly over the back of your hand. “Please, just look at me.”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, and the warmth there was almost overwhelming. His eyes held a mix of love and sadness, but no hint of the judgment or disappointment you’d feared.

“I don’t think I could ever explain how beautiful you are to me.” He said, voice steady and full of conviction. “And I don’t mean just tonight, or just because of the way you look. I mean you. The woman I love, who’s carrying our baby. There’s no part of you that isn’t beautiful to me.”

Your lip trembled, and you felt another tear slip down your cheek. “But I don’t… I don’t feel like myself anymore, Rafe. My body’s changing, and I look in the mirror, and I just… I can’t see the woman I used to be. I don’t know how to feel beautiful when I barely feel like me. I look… disgusting.”

Rafe’s hand came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tear as he held you close, like he was afraid you’d break if he let go. “I know this has been hard on you” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “And I know I can’t truly understand what you’re going through. But I need you to know… I don’t want the woman you used to be. I want you, right here, right now, just as you are.”

He took your hand and brought it to his chest, pressing it over his heart so you could feel the steady, reassuring beat. “Every single part of this journey, every change, every moment… it just makes me love you more. Because you’re the woman I chose. And you’re the woman I’ll always choose, no matter what.”

The weight of his words began to melt away the cold edges of doubt, warming you from the inside out. But the insecurities still lingered, clinging stubbornly. “But what if I… stay like this? What if I don’t look the way I used to? What if… you stop seeing me this way?”

Rafe’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. “Love… that’s not even possible. You have to understand, I’m not just in love with what I see on the outside. I’m in love with you. With the person you are. The woman who’s so strong, who loves so deeply, who’s going to be the most amazing mother.” His voice softened, his thumb brushing soothingly over your cheek. “That’s who I fell in love with. That’s who I see, every time I look at you. The woman who’s always been by my side through thick and thin.”

The tears kept coming, but this time, they didn’t feel quite so heavy. You let yourself lean into his touch, let yourself feel the warmth of his hand against your skin, grounding you in the moment.

“I just… I’m scared, Rafe.” You whispered. “I’m scared that I’ll never feel like myself again, that I’ll never be the same. That’ll be a bad mother.”

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger as he held you close. “Then let me be there with you.” He murmured. “Let me remind you, every single day, how beautiful you are to me. Because if I have anything to say about it, you’re never going to forget it. Not for one second.”

His words wrapped around you, sinking into the broken pieces and holding them together, stronger than before. And as he held you, his arms a safe haven against the storm of your thoughts, you felt, for the first time in a long time, a quiet, steady peace.

Rafe held you in silence, his hand holding your head against his chest as he allowed you to take a moment. It ached his heart to hear the things you said, the look in your eyes.

“I will need a few minutes to retouch my makeup.” You took a deep breath slightly pulling away from him, your manicured fingers quickly wiping away the tears on his jacket as you mumbled an apologize that he dismissed instantly.

“Take your time, sweetheart.” He winked, his eyes looking at you with an intensity and warmth that made your cheeks burn - as if he was looking at the most precious thing in the world.

[teaboot]

I'm surprised/impressed? by how blase you are about people threatening you at work. A neighbor threatened me last week and it was so scary and I wish I could have had the same kinda response you seem to.

First off, I hope you're safe and okay, that's an awful experience to be familiar with and especially bad that they live so close to you D:

Second, I'm certainly no maverick out here- I've only been doing this a few years now- but I've found that about 99% of threats I receive have very little intent to follow through.

The type of threats I usually receive are typically from:

Someone who's had bad experiences with security or police, in the past. People with hand and face tattoos, homeless folks, people with mannerisms that get them labeled as "sketchy", POC, and people who've been incarcerated all have valid reason to believe I'm out to get them, and may get treated badly elsewhere often enough that they're expecting that. Every time I approach someone, I have to take this into account and do everything I can to signal that they haven't been profiled based on preexisting stereotypes.

Someone experiencing the symptoms of a mental health condition. People with mental illnesses are statistically victims of crime more often than they are perpetrators. That said, I have run into people before whose mental illness can present as aggression- if someone behaving erratically or is known for that sort of thing tells me they're gonna blow my brains out, but I can clearly see they're unarmed, not coming towards me, haven't hurt anyone, and show no intent of escalating, I'm probably not in danger. A few people I've met will see me again in a day or two and will have no problems with me at all.

Someone who is scared, frustrated, anxious, or grieving. Not to excuse violence in any context, but in my experience 99% of people who blow up at me aren't actually thinking about me. Anger isn't so much an emotion in a lot of ways as it is the reaction to another emotion- if someone tells me they're gonna kick my ass, I have to question if there's anything they may be frightened, frustrated, or sad about something else entirely. If I can address and resolve what's causing the anxiety, the anger usually goes away next. If I can't deescalate, my next job is to disengage and make sure myself and others aren't at risk of harm.

People who want something from me. This does not happen often. Maybe they want me to back off, or leave them alone, or let them take something, whatever- maybe they think I'm someone with clearance to use physical force, or they think my flashlight is pepper spray. Whatever it is, once they've made it clear they're willing to act, I back off. Unless they're hurting another person, nothing they want is worth getting stabbed or shot over. And physical conflict is insanely stressful, even for the attacker, so even then whoever threatening me will likely take any "out" I can give- I keep paths of escape clear, stay out of range, keep calm and respectful. Every time this has happened to me, the person has run away when given the chance.

People who genuinely want to hurt me and intend to follow through. Again, this is super uncommon- I think it's only really happened to me once or twice on the job. Yes, it's scary, but I find it helps to remember that they arent after me, they're after the uniform. If someone is coming after me in costume, so to speak, it's not who I am as a person, it's what I represent. And a lot of people seem to think I'm a cop, or see me as a faceless goon, or a past abuser, or an intruder in their life specifically sent to make them miserable. If that's what they believe, there's not much I can do to change their mind except, again, stay calm and respectful and disengage.

I do know how to defend myself to an extent, but again, I don't have weapons or restraints or a vest or anything and I'm kinda small on top of that so really I'm cool with hauling ass if I gotta. If me getting the fuck out of dodge resolves the issue then I'm not above radio'ing HQ from the top of a tree somewhere, that shit is above my pay grade.

TL/DR in my personal limited experience, someone who has told me that they're going to hurt me wouldn't have given me the warning unless there was something I could do to avoid it. Stay calm, don't yell, be respectful, give them an escape route and run if you need to

Stay safe out there, yeah?

[hannieehaee]

idk if anyone has requested or mentioned this yet, but have u ever thought of sub hoshi??? also i love ur work, it’s absolutely incredible🤧 i love it sm😖💐

18+ / mdi

content: sub!hoshi, softdom!reader, afab reader, smut, edging, handjob, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, mentions of crying, etc.

wc: 1139

a/n: amazing concept, anon. not proofread btw sorry for any mistakes</3

masterlist

"w-why are you being so mean to me?", cried the boy as he hissed in sensitivity.

his complaints did not prevent your fingers from slowly running up and down his chest, gracing the nipples you'd just spent twenty minutes sucking and biting into.

"just let me go, i'll be good, i promise!", he whined as he pulled at the restraints you'd used to tie each of his built arms to the bed frame.

"i can't do that, soonie. you asked for this, remember?", you pouted mockingly at the desperate boy.

you knew soonyoung to be quite experimental in bed. he was really down to do anything at least once, which was something that kept your sex life quite interesting throughout the duration of your relationship. for instance, a few weeks ago he had insisted on testing out bondage, choosing to try it on you as he tortured you for hours on end. after the fact, he had insisted on your own usage of it, begging you tie him up and have your way with him.

and so you did it. again and again, and he kept coming back for more, insisting you play with him time after time as he begged for your touch, trapped and unable to touch you back.

it quickly became a staple in your sex life, with the strong boy becoming a weak mess under you any time the mood struck for him to lay back and allow you to do with him as you wished. you'd still switch roles every so often, but soonyoung had grown addicted to you having your way with him as of late.

even now as he begged for you to let go, you knew that no part of him actually wanted the torture to stop. that furrow of his brows and the heavy puffs of air he was letting out were all you needed to know he was deep into the torturous pleasure you were giving him.

"want more ... want you to touch me ..." he pleaded despite one of your hands already being on his chest and the other wrapped around his cock.

but that was the crux of soonyoung's problem. the feather-like touches you kept giving him kept making him grow dizzier by the second. you'd get him there in the slowest way possible, only to take your hands off him and play with yourself as he watched.

he'd beg and plead at you to let him go, to stop being so mean to him, but deep down you knew his cries demanded for you to continue, to take him to a point where his sobs would become pathetic and uncontrollable, forcing you to finally let him have his finish.

you'd only edged him three times thus far, playing with his cock and rubbing at his sensitive nipples while you fed off his pretty whines. you'd also edged yourself along with him, not allowing yourself to cum even once as you forced him to watch you without a single lick of gratification.

"touch you? but i am touching you, baby. see?", you squeezed his cock a little harder, "is this not enough?"

"need more, just ... want you, please."

"want me? what do you want, soonie? want me to touch myself again?-"

"no! no, please. need to touch you. just ... it's been long enough, just take off th- fuck ...," he groaned when your mouth suddenly went down to lick at the tip of his cock, interrupting his pleas.

"but soonie ... want your cock so bad," you breathed as you kitten licked at his tip, occasionally slipping it into your mouth as your hands continued to jerk at it.

the slamming of the headboard could be heard from the way soonyoung pulled at his restraints in attempt to free himself. groans of desperation accompanied the sounds of the headboard, with soonyoung clearly growing more frustrated than usual.

"baby, just ... let me have you, i- i'll be good, i promise. i've been so good for you, just n-need to feel you," he cried.

you only tortured him for a few more moments before finally pulling away, granting him with a sweet kiss before beginning to undo his restraints. not wanting to run the risk of him accidentally injuring himself (knowing that the promise of some pussy would likely have him taking such risk), you decided to finally give into him.

the sight of the boy under you was absolutely pathetic. tears stained his cheeks and his eyebrows remained furrowed, a permanent pout attached to his lips. his hands were delicate as they dug into your hips, silently begging for you to please sit on his cock. his hiccuped pleas for your cunt made you coo at him, finally giving in to him and sinking down on his blushing cock.

"a-ah, fuck, thank you thank you thank you thank you," he chanted breathily, "feel so fucking good ... finally," he sighed, eyes rolling back.

"been so good, soonie. deserve to feel so so good," you whined back, immediately speeding up and bouncing up and down his cock, not caring about how sensitive the two of you were after over an hour of edging.

"i-it's so good, so fucking good ...", he cried as tears began pouring down his face. his hips attempted to weakly hump against your own despite the immense sensitivity he was feeling, "'m gonna cum, fuck. can i cum? please, i need- i need to cum."

"cum, soonie, just wanna make you feel good," you nodded frantically, "been so good for me ... cum with me, baby. i'll cum too, i- i'll cum," you moaned.

the tightrope inside you snapped, leading soonyoung to wail out your name surrounded by pathetic cries of 'sorry' and 'thank you' as his stomach caved in and brought him to his orgasm.

"so g-good. always make me feel so fucking good," he kept repeating while his hips lost control, filling you up without a care in the world.

once your orgasm subsided, you let yourself fall against his chest, kissing at his chest and neck as his own orgasm simmered down. his hands were still digging into your hips and ass, groaning endlessly at every bit of physical contact you gave him. his pretty gasps hiccuped between his groans, creating a choir of noises as his load filled you up in a seemingly endless manner.

when he finally made it to the other side, balls empty and out of energy, he caught his breath by breathing into your neck, holding you against him without minding your weight atop his own.

more thank you's were shared in whispers, kisses being exchanged as you took care of each other in the most intimate of ways, his cock still buried deep inside you. you fell asleep like this, entirely too relaxed and content as you held each other to sleep.

[acapelladitty]

Okay, I haven't finished the show yet, but I NEED more Cooper content and you did amazingly last time. That being said, I NEED (am asking you politely, whenever you have time and/or wish to write this) Cooper being overstimulated. Pretty please, and much thanks!

- Supervillain-Smut

For you baby? Anything! Have some Cooper being overstimmed and teased just below the read more 👀💦😈

Of the many downsides which came with the Ghoul transformation, arguably one of the worst which Cooper had long come to terms with was the loss of sensation across the leathered skin which covered his body. A valuable boon in a shootout, it let him focus his attention on the action at hand without worrying too much about the damage, but when the guns were holstered and the cold nights settled in, that same loss of sensation was a right pain in the ass when he was trying to get his rocks off.

Although, it was a reality of his situation which didn't seem to affect her and the wickedly cruel things she enjoyed putting him through on a regular basis.

"Come on, handsome."

Perched atop his thighs as she stroked her soft hand along his painfully hard cock, her warmth seeped into his own as it took every piece of willpower in his old bones to not knock her to the floor and sink himself as deeply into her cunt as he could to get some relief.

But a bet was a bet, and he wasn't one to give up without a good fight.

Already having been pulled back from the edge of release twice, his cock felt heavy and overheated as it jutted against his stomach. A small patch of pre-cum decorated the leathery skin where the livid head of his cock brushed against him with every jerk and slight cant of his hips.

"It looks almost painful, Coop." She mused, trailing the pads of her fingers along the prominent veins which lined his cock - the texture there something he knew she was fascinated by as it often stretched her out in ways that had her muffling her cries into his shoulders. "Maybe we should stop. Give it a little time to rest."

"Promises, promises, handsome."

"If you stop touchin' me, darling, then I'm not gonna be responsible for the outcome." Cooper grunted, the final word glancing up at the final syllable as her soft thumb rubbed a solid line across the ridge where his shaft met the head - a sensation which made his balls tighten and his throat stutter as it fired intense waves of pleasure across his stiff frame. "I'd throw you to the floor and show you things that not even the monsters who walk alongside the worst of them would dream about."

"Tastes like you."

"One I intend to keep, darli-fuck."

Hissing the expletive as her pointer finger teased at his slit, she gathered a small bead of his pre-cum and brought it to her lips. With a salacious flick, she swallowed down the slight taste with a pleasant hum.

Unable to help the grinding of his hips, Cooper bucked subtly into the air as he watched her filthy actions. Those same lips had sucked him dry many a time with such finesse that he found himself going out of his way to perform little acts of kindness for her in the hope that she'd see fit to grace him with another performance.

"Quit teasin' and get to it before I blow a hole in your head and finish myself off." He warned, hands gripping her thighs so roughly that he knew little crescent bruises would soon loom in the area.

Obviously ignoring his threat, her hand dropped to cup at his balls roughly, squeezing and rolling them between her fingers as a growl of pained arousal made his cock twitch, untouched.

"Oh, it's gonna blow alright. But only when you've been good enough to deserve it."

A bet was a bet.

And Cooper Howard would be a stubborn son of a bitch to the bitter end as he twisted his lips into an off-kilter smile and forced himself to relax into her touch.

"Whatever you say, darlin'."

[parkerslatte]

Finding Home || Part Five

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none

Summary: Y/N and Azriel warm up in her apartment and plan which task they are going to conquer next.

Finding Home Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

The moment Azriel and Y/N entered her apartment, he immediately walked to the couch and grabbed a thick blanket and threw it over her shoulders. Y/N was still shivering a lot. He was not sure what overcame him when he launched them both into the air. Typically when it rained hard he would rarely fly, typically using his shadows to go to the destination he desired. But as soon as he looked at Y/N, he wanted to fly with her, he wanted to feel her arms tighten around her when they were up in the air. 

Azriel didn’t fly high at all, just a couple of feet above the rooftops, but the delight in Y/N’s laugh would stay with him for centuries. Ever since his family had moved on, he had not had the chance to fly anyone anywhere nowadays, and he missed it. He missed the trust always put in him. Rhys and Feyre would fly together, with Nyx between them. Cassian would always take Nesta and Elain and Lucien were typically in the Day Court most of the time so Azriel never saw them too often. 

But with Y/N, she was someone he had never taken flying before and he wished he could again and again and again. The amount of trust she put in him made his heart melt.

As Azriel turned back to Y/N she had a wide smile on his face. “That was incredible!”

A soft smile graced Azriel’s features. Though as he continued to look at her shivering form, he frowned. “I should have just winnowed us back here. It was dangerous for us to fly in the rain.”

“I don’t care about that,” Y/N replied. “You didn’t even fly high. If we would have fallen, at most we would have gotten a few broken bones.”

“Y/N, I put you in danger,” Azriel said, taking a few steps away, insecurity rising within him. 

“I put my trust into you, Azriel,” Y/N said, closing the distance between them. “If we were to fall, I knew you would never allow me to hit the ground before you, you selfless bat.”

Azriel avoided her gaze as he looked at the wooden floor between them. A small puddle of water forming from the droplets of water dripping from their clothes. A warm hand was placed on Azriel’s chin and his head was forced up so his gaze met Y/N’s. 

“Azriel,” Y/N began, “you did not put me in danger at all. Not for one second did I think that I was in danger.”

“It was still stupid,” Azriel said.

“Not at all,” Y/N said as her hand caressed his cheek.

Azriel froze but didn’t move away. The touch was a welcome one and the sort of touch he hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was gentle and Azriel felt himself leaning into it. 

“Where did you get this?” Y/N asked, her thumb stroking over a thin scar on Azriel’s cheek. 

Azriel knew exactly what scar she was talking about. Out of the few on his face, it was by far the most prominent. Though thin, it stood out in the light. It was the only scar Azriel remembered getting and exactly how he got it. 

“It was during a snowball fight,” Azriel answered.

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. “That’s…interesting.”

Azriel smiled. “You’re trying not to laugh.”

Y/N raised her hands in surrender. “I’m not.”

“You definitely are,” Azriel said. 

“Perhaps I am,” Y/N said, lightly covering her mouth as she smiled. “Tell me, Azriel, how did you get this scar during a snowball fight?”

Azriel laughed lightly. “It is stupid to think about now.”

“Tell me,” Y/N said, nudging him.

“Well every year myself, Rhys and Cassian go to Rhys’s cabin in the mountains and have a snowball fight. I was angry at Rhys so I decided to cover snow around rocks and throw them,” Azriel explained.

Y/N gasped. “You didn’t!”

“Once Rhys realised what I was doing, he did the same.” Azriel pointed to the scar. “That’s how this happened. It was stupid of me thinking back on it, I knew that I was in the wrong during the argument but I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“I have a scar too,” Y/N said. “And it was also stupid reason as to why I got it. Unfortunately I cannot show you as it is in an…interesting place.”

“What’s the story behind it?” Azriel asked. 

Y/N smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Azriel stepped forward, a cocky grin on his face. “I would actually.”

Y/N suddenly flushed and Azriel couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph because of it. “I guess I’m not the only one so easily flustered?”

“Shut up,” Y/N replied. “I’m cold, so I am going to change. Don’t destroy my apartment while I’m gone.”

“Who do you take me for?” Azriel questioned.

Y/N slowly backed away. “Well you did just admit to throwing rocks in a snowball fight.”

“That was one time,” Azriel replied. 

Y/N shrugged before turning around. “Don’t mess up my living room, Azriel.”

Azriel held his hands up in defence. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Feel free to change as well,” Y/N said, gesturing to his bag of clothes. “I can’t imagine those clothes are comfortable now they are soaked through.”

Y/N was gone before Azriel had the chance to answer. His body seemed to work automatically as he quickly changed into some dry clothes. His hair was still a dripping mess but he did not have a clue where Y/N kept her towels and he didn’t want to rummage through any of her things. Azriel remained standing in the centre of Y/N’s living room holding his wet clothes. 

The list of tasks resided on the small table beside the couch. Azriel brought it up to read it. Three of the tasks were crossed out and suddenly the whole list felt small. As Azriel continued to read down the list, small annotations were written upon it. Upon further inspection they were notes for some of the tasks; about where to do some of them and some tasks that could be grouped together. Azriel’s shadows rested upon his shoulders, feeling just as calm and at ease as he was. 

“Az,” Y/N called out. “You can change in the bathroom if you wish, I didn’t mention that to you–”

“You called me ‘Az’?” Azriel said.

“I did,” Y/N said. “If you are uncomfortable with that, I apologise–”

“I like it when you call me that,” Azriel said. 

Y/N smiled. “I was saying that you can change in the bathroom but I see you’ve already done it.”

Azriel nodded and held up his wet clothing. “Where should I put these?”

“Oh, pass them here,” Y/N said, reaching out and taking them from him. “I normally dry my clothes out on a rack on the balcony coming off my bedroom but I have just left my clothes on the rack in my bedroom. I can hang your clothes up too.”

Azriel nodded and read through the list once more. He sat down on the couch, resting his wings over the back of it and leaned back comfortably, sinking back into the cushions. When Y/N re-entered the room, Azriel held the list up. “What’s this?”

“Oh, this morning when you were asleep, I spent time reading through the list and looking at what could be paired together and what we could do for some of the tasks. Some of them could be rather vague,” Y/N said and sat next to Azriel on the couch. 

She picked up a blanket and draped it over her legs and over Azriel’s. Azriel’s heart began to beat faster. The domesticity of it all made him hot. 

“You didn’t need to do this, Y/N,” Azriel said. “This is quite a lot of work.”

“It was nothing,” Y/N said. “Truly. All of these are just ideas I have come up with off the top of my head.”

Azriel glanced at her and found her studying the list with a frown. The only thing he wanted to do was wipe the frown away. 

“Though there are still some tasks on here that I cannot do with you,” Y/N said and pointed to task number nineteen. “I unfortunately don’t have wings so I think if I jumped from a cliff, I wouldn’t live to tell the tale. I will happily wait from the ground and watch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I can carry you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not. I am not allowing you to jump from the highest cliff in the Night Court with me in your arms. There is no way on the planet that that is happening.”

“I thought you trusted me?” Azriel teased.

“I do trust you,” Y/N said.

Just that phrase alone was enough to make Azriel smile. Y/N’s trust in him only after a few days made him feel a way Azriel couldn’t describe. 

“But I do not wish to free fall until you decide to start flying and give me whiplash,” Y/N said. “Besides, I am sure you will get through one task alone. Well, two considering I don’t think the High Lord would allow a stranger around his son.”

Task twenty-three; take Nyx to the park. Azriel’s heart squeezed. When Nyx was younger he always took him anywhere he asked, the child just had that effect on Azriel. When he was born, everyone thought Cassian would be the ‘fun’ uncle, but in reality it was Azriel. Azriel would always play with Nyx when he wanted and take him to the park all the time. However, when Azriel began to feel a distance to his family, those outings with Nyx become less and less. 

“Yes,” Azriel agreed. “Perhaps I should do that one alone.”

“I know you mentioned that you didn’t want to do so many of the tasks in one go, but I thought we could go shopping in Velaris tomorrow?” Y/N suggested. “Hopefully it is a nicer day and I need to buy more food.”

“So now you are using my tasks as an excuse to do your chores?” Azriel teased. 

Y/N laughed and tilted her head to look at him. “Yeah, I guess I am. So yes or no?”

Azriel smiled. “Yes.”

“Great,” Y/N said. “Because now that you are also staying here, I need to buy more food than I usually do.”

“You don’t need to buy food for me,” Azriel said.

“No, you are a guest,” Y/N said. “And I never get to treat anyone to anything anymore, so let me buy the food for meals. Maybe I will allow you to buy some more wine or something.”

Y/N leaned forward to take something off the coffee table and Azriel immediately missed her warmth. The blanket slipped down onto the floor as she moved so Azriel picked it up. Y/N returned to her place next to Azriel and settled back into the cushions with a book in hand. Azriel settled the blanket back over their laps and Y/N smiled gratefully. 

“What are you reading?” Azriel answered. 

Y/N showed him the cover. “I am not entirely sure. My friend recommended it to me a while ago. I haven’t gotten a chance to read it.”

“Can I read it with you?” Azriel asked, his voice going strangely quiet. He could already feel heat rising to his cheeks. 

“Of course!” Y/N said. “I haven’t started it so we can experience the whole thing together.”

Despite Azriel being the one to ask to read the book with her, he almost immediately regretted it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because of how close Y/N sat next to him and how she leaned in closer so he had a view of the book too. The casual and domestic touch was almost overwhelming for Azriel, considering he had not had this kind of touch in a while. 

“Can you see?” Y/N asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, I can see,” Azriel answered.

Y/N gave him a final smile before turning her attention to the book. Azriel did the same. He tried to concentrate on the words but all he could focus on was the way in which Y/N was rested against him. He had the urge to wrap his arm around her, inevitably making them both more comfortable overall, but if she rejected that touch, Azriel would feel mortified. Instead, Azriel rested his hands in his lap and read the same lines as Y/N, occasionally sneaking a glance down at her.

Deep within Azriel, something began to glow faintly. 

 

Taglist:

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- strike through could not be tagged -

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

He wasn’t the main point but I can’t stop thinking about Steve in ‘three times’, like what a man. Just hard, quick, decisive with just enough tenderness somewhere in all that loyalty. Is he lonely at all? Like, who does he have to love on? I’d gladly volunteer. Beautiful story and writing!

a/n: oh oh oh! SAAAAMMMEE! i tell you, when i was writing that fic, i kept on catching myself drooling over steve (lol as you can tell by the big part he played in the story) and had to snap myself out of it all the time because it wasn't a steve fic. but yes yes yeesss, i did think about who he has to love on hehe, let me share the thoughts ৎ୭

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

i think his girl would be just the sweetest little cinnamon roll ever

maybe you started working at the cafe near his home, just part-time while you’re finishing a degree

he was already a regular there, so when you started working there, not long passed before, a) you developed a huge crush on him, and b) since he came in there all the time, his usual order became almost imprinted on your brain since it was one of the few sentences you heard him utter that your heart clung onto

so the first time that you finished his sentence with the correct kind of coffee, that was the moment that snapped him out of his usual mundane haze and forced him to truly notice you for the first time.

and before he knew it, he had fallen into a legitimate relationship with you, more serious than any other he'd let himself experience.

it's very too sweet by hozier coded... because you truly are too sweet, too pure, too good for him... but that's also why he can't get himself to stop...

he keeps on telling himself that he needs to cut off ties to you, that you deserve better and that this can only end one way, with you getting hurt. but every time he tries, he just has to look into your eyes and the words crumble from his lips like they never existed at all.

and also, the last thing he wants for you to know is the kind of man he really is and the blood he has on his hands.

but when he’s with you, he isn't a dangerous mobster. he can just pretend that he's something else, just a regular guy like the one you believe he is. when he's with you, he can step into the world where everything is good, where wishes come true and it's borderline a fairytale compared to his reality.

he could never tell you the truth about who he is because at best it would just scare you, but at worst, it could potentially get you into trouble that you of all people don't deserve.

so he keeps it a secret.

even if the excuses he fumbles to come up with aren't always that great, you still haven't found out.

he'd rather you think that he is a klutz who gets into minor accidents and hurts himself all the time than have you know about how he really gets banged up too often to count.

he'd also rather have you think that he's an asshole for showing up late or not at all, than you knowing what grim truths had kept him.

maybe one day he does tell you everything and he spends the rest of his days protecting you and keeping you a secret from everyone in his world...

or maybe he doesn't. maybe he finds a way to do the impossible and get out of the life, but only for his past to catch up to him years down the line and blow up the perfect little white picket life you'd built together...

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble  

[myrandom-fandomlife]

Okay I decided I’m just gonna post my cooliver fic as is and if you want more i’ll attempt to provide so ummm here’s my cooliver fic loosely based on wish you were sober by conan gray but title is from illicit affairs by taylor swift because it was supposed to be more than this

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing, making out (???), angst

for you i would ruin myself (a million little times)

They’re at a party they shouldn’t be at, drinking just a little too much, and dancing with girls that look like they came out of a victoria secret advertisement. They’re living every seventeen year old boy’s dream, so why can’t they stop looking at each other?

Oliver knew he was fucked the moment Cooper suggested they sneak out to attend some rich douchebag’s party who lived within walking distance of the Otto home. It goes the same way every time. They sneak out of their basement apartment together (which is shockingly easier than he expected), get drunk, and something happens.

That’s how he finds himself with a sweaty girl rubbing all over him while he’s making blazing eye contact with Cooper across the room. It’s the kind of look that means something more, sparking heat and making his gut twist. It’s the kind of look that should not be shared between two best friends while they’re drunk and dancing with women.

Cooper quirks a brow almost imperceptibly, but Oliver knows what it means: “Cut the bullshit– let’s bounce.”

Oliver gives a small nod and dismisses the girl in front of him with a brief whisper, starting toward where Cooper is already waiting for him at the door. It’s clear to him already that Cooper is much more intoxicated than he is. His cheeks are flushed, his hair is curling and sticking to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes are shining in a silent plea to hurry so they can get home. Oliver thinks he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.

Oliver has an arm around Cooper’s waist, supporting him as he stumbles along. Oliver is more of a lightweight, but Cooper likes this. He likes not drinking so much that he forgets everything, but just enough that he can lean his head on Oliver’s shoulder without overthinking too much. He likes the way it makes him feel weightless, but there’s something a little sultry about him when he’s just the right amount of tipsy.

When the two boys arrive at the front door to the Otto’s house, Oliver gives Cooper his usual spiel on sneaking in quietly. He places both his hands on Cooper’s shoulders, forcing him to make eye contact, “Keep quiet until we are in the basement, okay? No stumbling, talking, giggling, anything that could wake mom.”

“I’m not that drunk, mi amor, I know the drill,” Cooper says lowly, and Oliver’s cheeks flush at the nickname.

Cooper smirks and Oliver rolls his eyes with a huff, “Really?”

“Really,” Cooper says faintly, because he’s leaning in and closing the distance between them before Oliver has the chance to react. When he does react, he’s kissing back enthusiastically, tongue poking out slightly to brush against Cooper’s lips.

This happens often now, when one or both of them are drunk. They make out sloppily, get themselves worked up, stop before it can do further, and then go to bed like nothing happened. They wake up the next day and don’t talk about it.

Cooper starts trailing kisses down the other boy’s jaw, causing Oliver to snap out of the haze he can never avoid when it comes to Cooper.

“Let’s take this inside, yeah?” He says softly, taking Cooper’s hand and leading him quietly into the home they now share.

When the door to the basement is shut, Cooper pushes Oliver into it, attacking his mouth once again. Oliver lets out a small noise of shock before melting into the kiss.

Cooper sighs into his mouth, “Missed this,” and then he starts kissing across his jaw again. Oliver’s head falls back at his words, and Cooper takes advantage of the access to his neck.

“No-” he pants, “No marks, Cooper.”

Cooper groans, “Love when you say my name.”

“Cooper,” he makes another noise at that, “Lets go to the bed.”

By the time they’ve stumbled over, their shirts are off and Cooper is on top of Oliver. He’s peppering kisses down Oliver’s chest and Oliver is trying very hard not to enjoy it so much. Cooper gets to his waistband and tries to tug it down, but is stopped by the other boy.

“Coop, we’re not doing this when you’re drunk.”

“I told you, I’m not that drunk.”

“This doesn’t happen when you’re sober,” Oliver snaps, immediately regretting his words.

Cooper recoils slightly, but doesn’t disagree. Instead, he rolls off of Oliver and on to his pillow.

Oliver starts to get up and go to his own bed but he’s stopped by a hand on his wrist, “Stay with me, Ollie, please?” Cooper says it in a small voice like he knows he’s asking for something he shouldn’t. He also knows that Oliver can’t say no to him.

Oliver stays.

[ghostbustting]

Can I ask for dave mustaine who has sweet sex with the reader and forces her to look at him? with pet names and etc.

ended up kinda shortt ☹️

╰┈➤“𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑰𝑵

𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑺„ ๋࣭⭑

Dave Mustaine x Reader

Contains Smut

Time at the moment seems to stop, thoughts that usually come and go into my brain turned meaningless, the hectic world outside became none of our business whenever Dave and I lay here in our bed, or as we like to call it, our own little bubble.

Like a shelter where everything else doesn’t matter, where what matter is only us.

“C’mon, baby.”

His voice whispers into my ears like a sweet melody that I’d love to hear as a lullaby every night. His thumb gently swept over my pink tinted cheek as he continuously told me to open my eyes.

My eyes slowly open again and I force myself to look straight into his eyes, a shaky breath leaving my swollen lips. “Dave..” I mumbled his name.

All I could focus on was the way his hips moved back and forth against mine, his member slipping in and out of my aching pussy.

Unlike other nights, tonight his thrusts were slow and sweet, accompanied by the way his lips continues to press kisses around my heated face every now and then, leaving no skin unkissed by those lips of his that I love.

Now, my focus was also fixated on his hazel eyes, trying to obey his wish for me to keep our eye contact going. Usually it wasn’t a hard thing, often finding myself drowning into those beautiful eyes that I can never get bored of.

But this time, I was finding it hard to do so from how much pleasure I was receiving from the thrusts of his cock into me, slow yet hard, hitting every spots that he knew too damn well will make my walls close up around him tighter.

His hand continues to stroke my cheek with such softness, “You’re so… heavenly.. my angel.. sweet sweet girl..” He continued to praise me like I was a special piece of art, pressing soft kisses onto my neck now.

My legs slowly come to wrap around his waist, pulling him in even closer into me while my arms wrap around his neck, only wanting to be close to him, he’s all I can think of and need at this moment, wanting to be skin to skin, heart to heart.

“Dave..” I softly say in a sigh as my eyes almost flutter close again.

“Eyes, angel. Show me those beautiful eyes.”

I force myself to open my eyes again, struggling for a moment to find his eyes before finally locking our eye contact once again. He smile and kiss my forehead, “Good girl… doing so good for me..”

Our eyes never broke the eye contact once I learned to take control of my own eyes. His beautiful eyes finally managed to distract me from how pleasuring this feeling is, how much I want to just throw my head back and let out screams of dirty noises with my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

But doing this, just staring up into his hazel eyes and drowning in them like usual, feels so much better.

He always knew how to make me feel good, how to make me feel loved, how to make me feel seen and cared for, most of the time prioritizing me and only me.

“Dave.. I… mm..”

He stroke my hair, his hips still never breaking the rhythm he created with his thrusts. “Shh.. faster or slower…?” He ask softly, as if he already knew I was going to ask him one of those.

A moan escapes my throat while I try to grind back against his hips, “Faster.. faster..!”

Something in his eyes switched, his gaze became more sharp and just then, his hips pulled back, the tip of his cock almost leaving my cunt.. before he slammed right back in and start thrusting way faster, yet still being gentle with it at the same time.

My eyes widens and I clung onto him like a koala on a tree, “So good, so good..” I mumbled out. The ‘bubble’ was soon filled with even more moans from both of us.

Dave’s hips meets mine continuously in a loop, each thrusts were followed by soft kisses all around my face, until his lips meets mine and lock in a sweet, gentle kiss. The way his lips was rubbing against mine gives a sense of warmth to me, his chest pressed right up against mine.

He pulled back from the kiss and looked into my eyes again, only to find mine yet again becoming hazy and difficult to focus on his. “Hey, hey.. eyes..” He whispers, his hand coming to my cheek and cup it while he wait for me to open my eyes.

I let out small gasps as he continue to thrusts, “I- I can’t..” I whimpered out, a louder gasp leaving my lips when I feel the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot in me.

“You wanna cum?” He ask softly, his thumb yet again tracing circles on my cheeks like he did earlier.

I nod, my legs wrapped even tighter around his waist, “Please..?”

He hummed and kiss my forehead, “Show me your eyes first.. then you can..” He grunted out, his cock never stopped moving inside of me.

Slowly, my eyes opens again for what felt like hundred times tonight and met his again, taking a sharp inhale. “That’s it..” Dave smiles, “My beautiful girl and her beautiful eyes..” Suddenly, he accelerates his hips yet again, now snapping back and forth against mine.

Moans leave my lips, even louder ones now. I hold onto his back tightly, my nails dug deep into his skin while with one last thrust of his cock, I came undone, my cum gushing out of my aching swollen pussy.

“Fuck.. shit.. hahn.. god..” Dave groaned at the feeling before his release came close as well, quickly pulling out and pumping his cock with his hand, his cum shooting out of his red tip and to my chest.

My breaths became heavy as he lay down next to me and instantly wrapping his arms around my stomach from behind, spooning me into his chest while he kisses my head non stop. I can feel his heart beating right against my back, the warmth of his body transfering to my own body, filling me with that comforting sense of his heartwarming love.

After some silence, Dave spoke again, “I love you so much.. do you love me, beautiful..?” His voice whispers sweetly into my ear, a genuine hint of curiosity and hope in the way he whisper it, as if the answer wasn’t clear enough..

“More than I love myself.."

[dinarosie]

hi i am actually very interested in the fact that you are "anti-marauders" because i have a strong feeling you've never actually had a conversation with a (real, not tik-tokified) marauders fan. i don't particularly "hate" snape, but i do NOT think he's a good person. i have a lot of similar nuanced feeling pertaining to peter, and i will admit that james and sirius are often childish and did bully snape. i've decided to reread half-blood prince, and rewatch the movie, so i can have a real conversation of my opinion on snape, and i will send in another ask later.

also, sectumsemprus (is that it?) is his SIGNATURE spell- for reference, voldemort's signature spell is avada kedavra, and harry's is probably expelliarmus. do you know how many times you have to use a spell for it to become your signature spell?

Hi there! Thanks for reaching out.

First, I want to clarify that I use anti-Marauders tags not because I created this blog solely to spread hate against them or to harass their fans, but because it’s a general Tumblr rule. For nearly any post criticizing a character, you’re expected to use anti tags, as fans of that character might not want to see critical posts about their favorite. This ensures fans who may not want to see criticism of their favorite characters can filter or avoid it if they choose.

Now, you mentioned that I probably haven’t talked to a “real” Marauders fan, which is why I have anti-Marauders posts. But honestly, I don’t think all fans of the Marauders share the same views, nor is it possible to talk to every fan before making a post. I see a lot of anti-Snape content daily—much of it from Marauders fans—and often get an idea for a post that I decide to share. I imagine most bloggers do this; it’s part of engaging with fandoms online. I try to offer thoughtful critiques when possible, but that does take time. Sometimes, seeing particularly harsh, illogical, or double-standard comments pushes me to post a short, sarcastic response—one that mirrors the style of some of the content I encounter.

Overall, I wouldn’t call myself “anti All of Marauder fans.” Yes, I use terms like “Marauders fans” and “anti-Marauders” tags, but my issue is only with fans who unreasonably hate Snape and mock him (even for things like his background) or who attack Snape supporters, labeling them with hurtful terms simply for supporting him. Outside of those specific cases, I have no problem with other fans.

As for your question about Sectumsempra, I understand you’re suggesting it became Snape’s “signature” spell through frequent, harmful use. I looked up the reference you mentioned, and here’s the passage from Deathly Hallows where Lupin speaks of Sectumsempra:

“He lost his hood during the chase. Sectumsempra was always a specialty of Snape’s. I wish I could say I’d paid him back in kind, but it was all I could do to keep George on the broom after he was injured, he was losing so much blood.”

It’s worth noting the term Lupin uses here: specialty, not signature. Sectumsempra first appears in Half-Blood Prince as an unknown spell by an unnamed creator. After Harry uses it on Malfoy, it’s still an unfamiliar spell until Snape admits to creating it at the end of the book. But in Deathly Hallows, right after the Battle of the Seven Potters, Sectumsempra becomes widely associated with Snape (via Lupin’s words).

While in Half-Blood Prince the goal is to keep the creator of this spell anonymous, in Deathly Hallows it’s crucial to know exactly who used Sectumsempra during the Battle of the Seven Potters. The inconsistency here seems intentional. The author isn’t referencing Sectumsempra’s notoriety here to highlight Snape’s past; rather, I believe she brings it up as an important clue about the future. This clue gains significance after we view Snape’s memories, especially after reading Dumbledore’s line to him just before the Battle of the Seven Potters:

And Severus, if you are forced to take part in the chase, be sure to act your part convincingly… I am counting upon you to remain in Lord Voldemort’s good books as long as possible, or Hogwarts will be left to the mercy of the Carrows..."

But in THE PRINCE’S TALE, we see that Snape defies Dumbledore’s advice—he steps out of his role as a Death Eater and targets another Death Eater with a spell that’s highly conspicuous, one that could jeopardize his cover. (If successful, and had it hit another Death Eater, they would have immediately recognized the spell as Snape’s own.) So why would Snape make such an irrational choice? Why take such a risk? To save the life of Remus Lupin.

This scene is one of many that show Snape’s growth and commitment to doing the right thing—not out of loyalty to Lily, not for Dumbledore, nor for any personal reward.( And that's exactly why, in the chapter where Snape's true loyalty and the real story behind him are finally revealed, this spell and its backstory are brought up.) As he admitted in his iconic line to Dumbledore, he had grown weary of watching lives be lost when he had the power to save them. Whether it’s an old bully, Lucius and Narcissa’s son, or James and Lily’s, Snape steps in without hesitation to protect a life—even if it endangers his own

Another reason I don’t believe the author’s aim here is to highlight Snape’s crimes as a Death Eater is that there are numerous scenes throughout the series discussing Snape’s actions during that time. Yet, we never see any indication or hint from the author that Snape committed serious harm or atrocities while serving as a Death Eater. In fact, in his argument with Bellatrix, it’s mentioned that Snape actively tried to avoid participating in missions. During his planning conversations with Dumbledore, we’re also told that his soul has never been tainted by murder. And in Karkaroff’s trial, there’s no crime or accusation he can use against Snape.

[petitelepus]

Hashiras x Platonic pregnant female reader (possibly single)

Where the reader, being pregnant, continues working, hunting, and doing strength training despite her pregnancy, and seems to have no problems with it, and is often upset when they tell her to rest, she is reckless and careless, she is always in constant movement or training. When she seems to be going into labor, the baby is delivered standing up easily, quickly and without pain.

At the beginning of your pregnancy, you had made your fellow Hashiras promise not to tell anyone about the life growing in your tummy.

They respected your wishes, even if reluctantly, and your continued training and hunting Demons like it was every other day. This often time worried your companions, but you brushed off their worries, claiming that you could still work and train.

That was until your stomach got big enough that you couldn't hide your pregnancy anymore.

Master Ubuyashiki wasn't exactly happy with you hiding your pregnancy for so long, but at least he didn't punish you for hiding the knowledge or your Hashira companions for keeping your secret.

But he did force you to bedrest at Butterly Mansion and it was killing you to just lie in bed all day because of how far along you were. You could barely do anything other than go to the toilet by yourself and even then you needed someone to escort you there.

"Any day now, you little brat..." You grumbled as you looked at your huge stomach, "Come out so I can get this done and over with...!"

"That is certainly one way to talk to your child," Came Shinobu's light giggle and you turned to look just in time to see her enter your room.

"Can't you do anything to start this labor?" You asked but she only shook her head, "As you said yourself, any day now."

"This is torture!" You cried out but the Insect Hashira just smiled, "Do you need to go?"

"Go, like a toilet?" You asked and she nodded, but you frowned as you attempted to get up on your own, "I'm more than capable of going to the toilet by myself...!"

"I don't doubt you, but bending down can't be easy with your stomach-!"

"My stomach is fine- Ah-!" You winched as you felt pain in your lower tummy and your eyes widened in shock as you looked at Shinobu, "D- Did I just wet myself?"

You were so humiliated that you wished a Demon would appear and eat you up, but Shinobu quickly moved closer and touched the wet spot on the bed.

"D- Don't-!"

"Congratulations!" The pretty woman smiled, "Your baby must have heard how annoyed their mother is and decided that they are ready to come out!"

"Now!?" You winched as your stomach ached in pain and Shinobu nodded as she quickly ran to the door and called Aoi and other girls to help her deliver your baby.

After that, things were blurred. You remember the pain, your cries, pushing, and finally, a shrill little scream before you blacked out due to exhaustion.

You weren't sure how long you were sleeping, and then you started to hear voices. At first, they sounded like gibberish, but as you focused and started to slowly come to your senses, you realized that those voices belonged to your fellow Hashiras.

"Aww, they look just like their mommy!" Mitsuji said happily, and Obanai nodded, "It's almost scary."

"Namu... They sound calm..." Gyomei nodded, and Sanemi scoffed, "Yeah, but if they come to their mother then we are going to have to cover our ears real soon."

"Hm!" Came Kyojuro's voice, but before he could say a word, Shinobu quickly shushed him, "Indoor voice, Rengoku."

"They are like two peas in a pod," The Flame Hashira said quietly.

"They are, like, so flashy," Tengen nodded with approval and Muichiro glanced at the Sound Hashira, "You think so...?"

"The baby looks happy..." Giyu nodded and Sanemi laughed, "Just wait until they see their mother. That gives them a reason to cry."

"Fuck you..." You grumbled tiredly as you struggled to open your eyes, but you managed. You looked at all the Hashiras surrounding your bed and frowned, "Why the Hell are you all here anyway...?"

"Hm!" Kyojuro nodded, "We heard from crows that you went to labor and we had to rush in to see the little miracle ourselves."

"The baby...?" You turned to look at the Insect Hashira.

"They are well. The delivery went perfectly," Shinobu smiled, "You must have been exhausted so we decided to let you sleep a moment."

"So... The baby is okay?"

"Would you like to see them?"

You weren't sure what the Hell you were thinking, but you nodded and she smiled as she stepped aside and returned quickly with your newborn in her arms.

"Here they are," She nodded as she gently handed the baby to you and your eyes widened as you took in your child. They were small, had the chubbiest cheeks you had ever seen, and cutest mouth ever.

"Wow..." You blinked as you looked at them and the Hashiras shared smiles, "Master Ubuyashiki said that you aren't allowed to pick up a sword for another 3 or 4 months."

"That's..." You frowned and they all expected you to complain and object...

"That's okay..." You smiled, "I'd like to get to know this little sunshine better..."

"You also have all of our support!" Mitsuri said excitedly and a little too loudly because your baby started to stir awake and whined pitifully.

"Wh- What-?" You turned to look at Shinobu pleadingly, "Wh- What should I do?"

"Just hold them," She nodded, "They are probably hungry also."

"Oh," You blinked before you realized what she meant, "Oh!"

"We will give you some privacy..." Gyomei nodded as he and the rest of the Hashiras stepped outside, but they all congratulated you on their way out.

You sighed as you did what you had to, and in manner of minutes, your little baby was happily eating and you couldn't help but to look at them so lovingly.

You didn't expect to fall in love ever again, but you were wrong.

[cantareincminor]

Fandom Wrapped (Reader Edition) 2024!

Thanks to the wonderful @kattyelf for creating this template! Links and detailed reviews under the cut.

Disclaimer: I probably read hundreds of SxF fics in the past year, and it was not easy to choose which ones to put in the list above (or below)! This fandom is full of wonderful, friendly creators and I am so glad to be part of it. I also had to narrow it down to only the ones I read and reread in 2024, not 2022 or 2023. Finally...I also happened to read many good fics only once. Sometimes a fic is just too painful or sad to reread, especially if it's not finished.

Favorite fic and author: After peace by @unhappy-sometimes!

I could gush about unso for a whole post and not be done, but I will try to contain myself. Her fic After peace originated from an AU comic she drew where Twilight was forced to retire early due a major injury, and drifted aimlessly until WISE asked him to take care of an orphan they had rescued from Project Apple. There are several things that amazed me about this fic and cemented it in first place for 2024:

The premise. It was original and so full of potential.

How personal Twilight's journey felt to me. I didn't have a life-threatening injury, but I did put my career on hiatus in the past year and have often struggled with questions of -- what am I worth when I'm not "doing" anything? I was so used to going 150% in the rat race and coming out on top at great personal cost to health and family; even if all that was bad, how else can I get that sense of accomplishment? How can I stop wanting that sense of accomplishment?

Her style, which is both vivid AND concise. The fic was around 22K words if I remember correctly, with a well-constructed plot, character arcs, plenty of emotional beats, and a satisfying resolution. I often wonder if my writing is too verbose and when I see something like After peace, it challenges me to do better.

THIS WAS UNSO'S FIRST FIC EVER. THE HELL. It's like a freshman album that gets put up for a Grammy.

Fic(s) I reread (plus runners-up):

That Time Yor Seriously Thought About Leaving by peonydee: This is a WIP with one more chapter before completion, I believe. Peonydee's style is unique in how it's hard-hitting and disarming at the same time. Yor and Twilight find themselves in impossible situations, their relationship tested to the limit (and one of them in a close brush with death), yet there's still an undercurrent of wry humor, almost fatalistic due to the fact both of them have been steeped in death and dirty work for decades, yet still hopeful and reaching for each other. I also cackle every time she makes Twilight go off on a mansplaining tangent without ever using the term outright. A masterpiece of show not tell.

Is It Really All Right? by zyzy1083: This one is tender. A jealous!Loid fic with a fascinating portrayal of Loid from Yor's perspective. The imagery of a dark sea choking down any true thought or emotion from breaking for air will stay with me for a long time. There's also the fact she basically made up lyrics for an indie song as part of the plot and I had to ask whether it was a real song. Finally, there's the fact she was bold enough to portray Loid as less than a perfect, kind, smiley husband toward Yor, but in a believable way. He snaps at Yor at times. He loses his patience. It feels like a real relationship, in the awkward tension when one partner wants to talk and the other absolutely does not want to talk. I admire that courage and wish more authors would take that risk (calling myself out I guess!).

Green-eyed Monster by bigbruja: another jealous!Loid fic that's lighthearted and fun. This is a comfort reread. I enjoy seeing Loid recognize the threat of a supposed "old friend" of Yor's, questioning his own feelings and how far he needs to go to fend this guy off. The guy is a Garden assassin, unbeknownst to him. I also love Yor's own inner struggle of just wanting everyone to get along, but showing steel when she needs to.

dalliance by rosetintednerdglasses: this is a WIP, but it is HILARIOUS and I hope everyone will go encourage this author to pick this fic back up when they have a chance. TLDR, Twilight (in disguise) is sent on a joint mission with Thorn Princess and flips out internally when he sees it's Yor. Handler then orders him to ensure Thorn Princess continues to cooperate. So as Twilight, he has to sort-of honey trap Thorn Princess, while as Loid he has to keep Yor happy. Poor Yor believes she's torn between two different men and close to cheating on Loid! Situational hilarity all over the place, and fun world-building, like this other WISE agent randomly named "Steel Bunny" (LOL).

Not According to Plan by @kyrathel: love you girl! This is a gift fic for me, but that's not the reason I reread it (even though it's a WIP as well!). It's SO FUNNY. Twilight gets it in his overly anxious head that he MUST defend his wife from the bullies at City Hall, so what does he do? HE INFILTRATES CITY HALL AS A NEW FEMALE HIRE. The world absolutely needs more petty!Twilight! The latest chapter features laxative brownies. Enough said.

Let's start living dangerously by @beannoss: I specifically reread the later parts when dumb Twilight gets over his dumbness and finally talks to Yor! And they kiss again! I love the way huhwaku (beannoss) portrays overthinking Twilight AND overthinking Yor. And also, the simplicity of Yor at the same time. The voice she uses for both of them is refreshing, it really puts you in the mindset of the character. Yor's giggles ("teehee!") as she teases Twilight about his little perfectionist habits are a cute touch to a gentle, heartwarming fic about these two highly competent professionals just starting to take baby steps in how to be competent at a relationship.

Fic that made me emotional:

100% Perfect by @sometimesiship. Where do I begin? How about with the gut aversion I initially had to the premise of a futuristic AI dating bot AU, due to all the tragic, dark AI movies I have watched? But as it neared completion, someone convinced me to give it a try and I AM SO GLAD I DID. You can see my gushing comments in almost every chapter. The development of the relationship between human Yor and AI Loid is so natural, funny at times, poignant always, and beautifully written, even though from an objective standpoint not much exciting stuff happens (I mean canon-typical excitement like murders and spy missions). Sometimesiship has a way of describing emotion that is so raw -- she can portray the same emotion a dozen different ways with analogies and setups and dialogue and whatever -- and it still doesn't feel old. And the emotion that dominated the second half of the story was grief. Basically the grief of loving someone you know you're going to lose. Like being the spouse of a terminal cancer patient. I didn't cry while reading, but it was a closer call than I have had in a VERY long time. So much beauty and humanity in this story. And spoiler (?), it's a happy ending. So I hope you all go check it out!

That's a wrap! If you read this far, stay tuned for a Writer version of Fandom Wrapped 2024!

[teaboot]

I hope it's okay that I took a screenshot, cause I felt that this deserved it's own post.

It's a good question, and as someone with a needle phobia myself it's one I have some experience with and feel I can speak on.

It's going to sound stupid, but it's this:

First, keep facing your fear. I personally elected to start donating blood, which sucked ass, but helped me get used to the feeling of having a needle in in safe environment, and celebrating the small victory every time I finished was a good motivator to keep going back.

What I did then was focus on what my body was doing. Was I breathing fast? Tensing up? Sweating? Going cold? Was I shaking? Where? Was it better to fidget, or hold still? Did closing my eyes help? Plugging my ears? I got familiar with my own physical reactions so I could start to separate them from my mental reactions.

Now when I experience a panic response, I'm not just objectively aware that my body is doing it's own thing- I genuinely feel that my body is acting on it's own. I'm stressed, but not SCARED, because my brain doesn't just know that it's safe- it FEELS safe. I'm emotionally strung out and on edge, but I'm not totally losing myself anymore. I can have a conversation while it's happening.

Now, sometimes I can see someone use a syringe for small procedures without flinching and closing off. Not often, but it's miles ahead of where I used to be. I can hold an epipen. I can use safety gear to dispose of abandoned needles outside my work. I don't think I could give myself an injection if I needed to, because I know I still lock up, but the idea of someone else doing one on me isn't viscerally repellant.

So... not cured here yet, but better.

TLDR: Baby steps, keep trying, pay attention to your body, celebrate successes.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Taking steps to confront a phobia has to be a choice. Forcing someone else to confront their phobia when they ARE NOT READY, WILLING, OR PREPARED is incredibly distressing and can make things way worse. And with how completely fucking miserable and exhausting a panic response feels, choosing not to "just confront it" is a totally valid and understandable choice. Like choosing not to run a 100 mile marathon barefoot. If you find yourself tempted to trick or pressure someone into amateur exposure therapy, don't. I'll fucking find you

Again, this is just what's been working for me, but if you wanna try it, I wish you luck! ♡

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I’m at my desk trying to focus on writing code for our game, but it’s slow going. Distracted by my own thoughts, I find myself staring out the window in front of me more often than not while my fingers rest on the keyboard. Ash sits patient and unbothered on my bed, playing on my Switch while he waits for me to finish.

We’re quieter today than usual, both of us tired and mildly hungover from the night before, but still determined to make some progress today.

I try my best to clear my mind, to focus on the screen in front of me and listen to the music coming from my Lin-Z speaker, quietly singing along and bouncing my leg anxiously to the beat. Every once in a while, Ash chimes in, singing a line or two along with me, and I realize how often I make him put up with my playlist even though he much prefers his own. But I have a specific one that helps me when I work, so he usually doesn’t protest too much.

As I sing the lyrics to Your Silent Face for about the thousandth time in my life, and still never tiring of it, I hear Ash join me in singing the last line, “You’ve caught me at a bad time. So, why don’t you piss off,” and we both chuckle under our breath. Over time it’s become a joke between us, ever since the day he walked up to me at work to invite me out for a drink and caught me singing the line aloud.

I think about that night at the bar often. Sitting in the dark corner, like we were in our own world, nothing in the universe existing but the two of us, talking until the bar closed. I remember how disappointed I was when we were eventually forced to leave, how nervous I was as we stood on the edge of the sidewalk. And I’ll never forget the first time that I kissed him.

I can’t help but wonder where we’d be now if I’d let things continue, if I hadn’t gotten in my head and panicked, if I hadn’t pushed him away. And I want nothing more than to set things right.

As he sits behind me on my bed, I can’t stop thinking about the last time he was there and the words he said to me. I wish I’d handled it differently. I want to take it all back. To tell him he was right. But I don’t know how. Ash is the easiest person in the world to talk to, and yet, every time I think of opening my mouth to say anything I have a deep sense of dread that it will come out all wrong, that I’ll somehow make everything worse by doing so.

“I have a question.” The sound of Ash’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I stop typing, suddenly nervous, though I’m not sure why.

“What’s up?”

“The whole I-don’t-date-people-I-work-with thing, is that for real? Or is it your way of letting me down gently?”

I’m a bit confused by his question. Could he really think I’m not into him and just saying that to spare his feelings? “No, I meant it.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

I get up from my desk and walk over to join him on the bed as I think about how to answer. I hate that I suddenly feel the need to defend an argument that I don’t fully believe, but what else am I supposed to do? Say never mind, I was full of shit? Or actually I’ve changed my mind, let’s forget about it. I can’t do that. So, I give a reason, and secretly hope he makes a solid rebuttal that will give me the opening I need to take it back, “It’s messy,” I say, “Like, if we get in a fight or break up, and still have to work together, it’s just—”

“Messy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay...” he stands and walks over to my bookshelf, looking over it like he’s suddenly very interested in my old worn-out copies of Tolkien books. I have a tendency to reread the same books, the same way I listen to the same songs over and over. I suppose I find comfort in the familiar. Maybe even more so than most. I’m tempted to make a comment about it, but I know Ash well enough by now to know that he’s not interested in the books, that he’s thinking carefully about what he wants to say next, so I wait. Eventually, he turns back to me, “So, if we didn’t work together…?”

“Then, it’d be different.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk as he walks over. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of me, his legs between mine. He tilts his head to the side curiously, “Different how? Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s pretend for, say, five minutes, that we don’t work together.” He leans forward, bringing his hand up to my cheek, his face mere inches from mine, the spices from the chai tea he drank on his way over still lingering on this breath, and I feel a rush of heat fill my face and neck as if the very nearness of him has set me alight.  

“Five minutes?”

“Mhm,” he grins, “Five minutes. What would you do differently?” His eyes take on that playful glimmer that makes my heart race. I know that look. He knows I know that look. And it all goes to my head until all I can think about is pulling him back onto the bed with me.  

 “Set a timer.”

He smiles as he pulls his phone from his pocket, the warmth of his hand still lingering on my cheek as he slides his thumb over the screen before turning it around to show me it’s set for exactly 05:00. “Starting… now,” he presses the green button and tosses it onto the bed.

I waste no time, reaching for him as soon as the phone leaves his hand, and pulling him with me as I lie back. He falls on top of me with a startled laugh.

I don’t have the luxury of taking things slowly, of savoring each second the way I normally would. Instead, I roll him over and kiss him fiercely. Our legs intertwine, and I hold him as close to me as I can, wishing we’d had time to remove our clothes so I could feel his skin against mine.

Our kisses become deep and passionate, and I start to resent the timer counting down, my awareness of it preventing me from fully giving in to the moment. I’m tempted to reach over and turn it off, but I can’t do that, so instead I move my lips to his jaw, following the path of his birthmark and burying my face in his neck wishing I could pause time through sheer will alone.

And then the timer goes off. A series of loud beeps brings the room back into focus, and we pull away, breathless and laughing.

“Time’s up,” I say as I prop myself up on my elbow.

“Damn. I should’ve gone for an hour.”

“That would’ve been dangerous.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Guess you’ll never know,” I laugh as he pushes me away playfully so he can get to his phone, still beeping behind us.

The sounds of Blue Monday coming from the speaker take the place of the alarm as he shuts it off and slides the phone back into his pocket. “Okay, well,” he looks over at me, “you’ve convinced me.”

Convinced him? I suddenly feel as though I’ve missed something along the way. “Convinced you of what?”

“I’ll put in my notice on Monday.”

Everything inside me halts. My heart, my breath, every cell in my body stopping in their tracks. “You’re not serious.”

He shrugs as though what he’s saying is no big deal, “Why not? It’s just a job. I’ll find another one. Question is, is that enough? Or are you gonna make me wait the two weeks until I’m actually gone?”

My body restarts again, overcorrecting and going into overdrive, panicking at the idea of him leaving, of not seeing him every day. Getting coffee, going for walks, eating lunch, telling stupid inside jokes over IM and hearing him laugh from across the room… all of it… ending. “I… I don’t want you to quit.”

“Well, if you won’t let me be both, then I choose boyfriend over co-worker.”

“Wh- boyfriend?” A fresh wave of anxiety pours over me at the word. I mean, I get it, we’re obviously not just friends, I don’t think we ever have been, and we’re clearly incapable of being casual, at least with each other, so boyfriend makes sense, but hearing him say the word only reminds me of how incompetent and inexperienced I am when it comes to real relationships.

“Or am I just a piece of ass?”

“What?! No, of course not, it’s not like that.”

“What’s the problem then?”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say. My head spins, scrambling to come up with something... I can’t let him quit his job just to be with me. It’s too much. And I don’t want to not work with him. But I can’t tell him I want him to stay and be with me. Not after all the time I’ve spent insisting he can’t. Even if I could, I have no idea how to be his boyfriend. Not for real. But isn’t this exactly what I wanted?

I have to find a way to talk to him, but the longer I stay silent, the harder it is to find the words as they get crowded out by the growing chaos of conflicting thoughts swirling around my head like an out-of-control Tilt-A-Whirl.

Next to me, I feel his shoulders slump, and I know I’ve let him down… again. “Right.” He says this as if my silence has told him everything he needs to know. “I can’t keep doing this with you, Atlas," he sighs, "I’m tired of the mixed signals. I wish you could just be honest with me. When you're ready to do that, let me know. But I’m not going to wait around much longer. I can’t.”

I reach for him as he gets up to leave, “Ash, wait.”

But he shrugs me off, “Nah,” and continues out the door.

Once he’s gone, I lie down on the bed wondering how the hell I’ve managed to fuck this up yet again.

Maybe it was stupid of me to think I could do things differently.

And, if that’s the case, maybe it’s time I let him go.

As this realization sinks in, I feel my heart start to break, slowly at first, small fissures splintering, then shattering all at once as I stare silently at the floor, my throat tightening as my body tries desperately to remember how to cry, to give some kind of cathartic release for the pain. But, just like me, it fails yet again.

Prev // Deja vu // Next

[mrsriddlenott]

I just had this random thought of AngryBF!Harry x Fem!reader where she helps him through his anger in many ways.

masterlist

Warnings: Smut. Anger. Aggressive Sex.

“I just can’t get a break. I went all summer without a scrap of news, I’m behind on all my class work, and now Ron and Hermione seem to think I’m a bloody DADA teacher.” You and Harry sat on the edge of his bed as Harry held his head in his hands ranting. “It was all luck, why cant they get that. It’s not like I have any control over my life and when I’ll be attacked next.”

You and Harry had only been dating since the Yule Ball but were serious nonetheless. When he would need comfort after the death of Cedric Diggory and when no one could properly owl him, you were there. You were the guide that kept him from making too much of a scene, but with Umbridge pushing Harry every second with detention after detention, and denying every part of what happened last year, Harry was on edge even with you.

“Harry, you have to see where they’re coming from don’t you?”

“Not you too! Merlin of all people I thought you’d understand y/n!” Harry snapped often these days, you knew it wasn’t necessarily his words, you just wished he could calm down.

“I do understand Harry, but if I’m not going to be of any help, I’ll just go.”

“No y/n/n, you know thats not what I meant. I just can’t get even a bit of control anymore and it’s driving me mad.” And with that, you suddenly had an idea.

“Well, I can think of ways you can gain control cant you?” At the change in your tone Harry finally lifted his head to see you.

“What are you implying Darling?” His narrowing eyes were already dark with anger and he seemed unable to focus.

“Well I was thinking, next time you’re all strung out like this, you can always come to me. Don’t sit and yell at Umbridge just to get stuck in detention when you could be spending your time with me, Love.”

“Yeah, I like that idea y/n” Harry didn’t take a second to think it over as he seemed to light up with a bright smile, already over his prior annoyances.

At first it wasn’t anything inappropriate, after classes Harry would often storm into your dorm or pull you into his, already yelling about a DA meeting or something Snape or Umbridge did. You’d simply talk and cuddle until he was okay. Eventually Harry realized just how distracting kissing you was and before long would have you pinned to a wall with his lips on your neck at least once a week. When he had noticed how exhilarating it felt to be able to grab you from anywhere in the castle and drag you to his dorm just because he was mad, he simply couldn’t stop. He absolutely adored when you’d let go of control just for him.

And thats how you ended up here, on hands and knees in front of your very angry boyfriend.

“No one ever fucking listens, no one lets me speak…except you of course, hands.” His voice softened as he spoke directly to you. While you laid your hands on your naked back, laying yourself forward onto his bed, Harry took both your hands in one of his as the other lined himself up at your entrance, slowly letting his tip ease into you.

“I have less and less time for myself, I just want to be able to do what I want whenever I want,” Without warning Harry slammed into you fully, pushing himself forward and resting his bare chest on your back, lips next to your ear as he spoke, “That’s you of course.”

“Are you okay still? You remember what to say if you don’t want to continue, yes?” You nodded your head from where it was on his pillow, “Words Darling.”

“Yes, I say Snitch.” You were breathless already as you uncontrollably clenched around him, forcing a sharp sigh from the boy above you.

“Good girl” Harry whispered as he started an unrelenting pace, straightening himself and pushing your abdomen down with his hand on yours.

“You’re perfect y’know that? Bloody perfect stress reliever you are.” He laughed softly as his free hand roamed up and down your side.

He was pounding into you so hard his bed shook and the curtains began to part on their own. The sound of wet skin slapping together and your moans of Harry’s name filled the room.

He drove into you with force you had never felt before, he was quickly forcing you into your orgasm as his pace remained fast and hard against your g-spot.

“Fuck I wann- Ahh Fuck y/n I wanna look at you when I come.” Harry released your hands and held your waist tightly as he flipped you around plowing himself back in as if he never left.

Harry smoothed the hair off your sweaty forehead, keeping eye contact and smiling softly, before bending down to kiss you aggressively on the lips. His and your own moans being drowned by each others lips as he came inside you, your juices mixing as they slid out around him.

“Fuck, I’ve needed this all week,” Harry sighed breathlessly as he rested his head on your chest, not making any attempt of pulling out. As he yawned, you slipped your fingers through his messy hair smiling and breathing heavily, “I love you Harry”

“I love you too Darling”

~~

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