#and it sneaks up on you every now and then

[wizard-of-interesting-failure]

"I was planning to test all the possible divergence points rigorously and in order, but I'm sick of playing this out the same way. Let's just do this one now."

"I- what? No you haven't, nothing else has been changing."

"Not for you, maybe- wait. How do you know I'm in a time loop?"

"You're in a time loop?"

"YOU'RE in a time loop?"

The space between you begins to crackle. Her face seems to fuzz into static white noise, as does the scenery behind her. You think you can see her mouth move, but no sound reaches your ears. Your senses are overtaken, and you black out.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

"You're in a time loop!"

"...what on Earth are you talking about?"

So much for that, you suppose.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER---

Your routine has changed from asking her out again to yelling that at her and leaving. It's a crowded park, so you get a few funny looks, but your sense of embarrassment has long since evaporated.

"How the hell did you know that??"

Your heart skips a beat. She stands there looking confused. It takes you a moment to realise it wasn't her that spoke; a stranger, someone you've never bothered paying any attention to, runs up to the two of you with a look of incredulity on her face.

The space between you begins to crackle. Her face seems to fuzz into static white noise, as does the scenery behind her. This time, you run.

It doesn't help.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER, AGAIN---

Paranoia has consumed you. You obsessively chart every movement of every person in the city you can, looking for the slightest deviations.

Finally, you find one. An old lady is running late for her doctor's appointment.

You tail her for the rest of the day. Almost no other changes occur. She still gets home and realises she's forgotten her keys, albeit slightly later. She spends slightly less time reading hunky magazines. She has dinner at the same time, goes to bed at the same time.

You never find out whether she doesn't realise she's in a time loop or her delay was caused by something else you missed.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER, YET AGAIN---

There's a car crash on the morning news.

There's never a car crash on the morning news.

The driver of the car died instantly on impact. The driver of the truck he swerved into head-on is baffled and traumatised. The whole day is a wash; everything changes, and you're pretty sure you know who the other looper was. Not much you can do about it now.

You sneak into the morgue anyway.

The man's body is in bad shape, but otherwise normal. What else did you expect? Yours doesn't hold changes either; only memories remain.

A thought strikes you. You grab a handsaw from a nearby table.

There's something in his brain.

You don't get a good look. The space between you begins to crackle. You swing your arm through it in frustration. Nothing happens. Another thought strikes you. You dunk your head into the still-forming static and black out.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

The hospital turns you away at the door. You start researching how to fake a cerebral hemorrhage.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

The ambulance quickly determines that you are not unconscious and show no current symptoms. You are held for observation and scheduled for further testing tomorrow.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You start researching how to fake a concussion.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You are not a good actor. You start researching how to safely give yourself a concussion.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

Ow. You start taking acting classes.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER; YOU WERE A REALLY BAD ACTOR---

They turn on the MRI machine. A searing pain pierces your skull and you black out.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You tell them you have a pacemaker this time.

A doctor shows you the CT scan results. You're ready this time, just in case, so you make out something large and octahedral before the static takes you.

The doctor doesn't seem to notice.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You ask not to see the scan yourself. The doctor describes it to you. She says there's a foreign object in your skull, but no sign of how it could have gotten there. She sounds baffled.

You ask what it looks like. She says she can't tell much, but it looks large and octahedral.

A beat passes. She asks if you're okay. She sounds sympathetic underneath the confusion.

You grab the scan and stare at it out of sheer spite.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You spend the whole loop in bed with a splitting headache.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You spend the whole loop at home with a slightly less splitting headache.

---TEN LOOPS LATER---

You ask if it would be possible to have it removed. They say no; your brain tissue has grown around it and removal would be lethal. You ask if it would be possible to just open you up and take a look at it. They look suitably appalled.

They keep you for observation overnight, for lack of anything else to do. You show no symptoms; why would you? They're still scratching their heads when you black out for the night.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You start looking for doctors who are less scrupulous.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You wake up in a back alley with all your possessions missing. You start looking for doctors in a scrupulousness sweet spot.

---FOUR LOOPS LATER---

You've finally found someone who won't ask too many questions when presented with enough cash. They tell you they can get a procedure room booked under false pretences no earlier than tomorrow. You start casing the hospital.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

Digging through the hospital's logs late at night, you find that someone was brought in mid-morning with a piece of rebar through their leg.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You track them down and set their house on fire at 6AM. The doctor says they can get a procedure room booked under false pretences no earlier than tomorrow. Digging through the hospital's logs late at night, you find that someone was brought in mid-morning with third-degree burns and smoke inhalation. You're not sure why you thought this was a good idea.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You leave a package full of money on their doorstep with a note promising more if they stay home today. The doctor says they can get a procedure room booked under false pretences no earlier than tomorrow. Digging through the hospital's logs late at night, you find that a kidney transplant was performed in the procedure room instead.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

Digging through the hospital's logs late at night, you find that a kidney transplant was delayed due to a lack of facilities. You find that seven other surgeries were also delayed or transferred to hospitals in other cities due to a lack of facilities. You find that no less than ten people were brought in mid-morning with various construction-related injuries.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You follow Rebar Guy to his place of work. It is an absolute mockery of safety standards. You watch as a crane malfunctions and collapses onto the half-constructed building. You finally dimly recall seeing a whole fleet of ambulances on one of your further-ranging walks, before you settled into a routine to give yourself something to cling to.

You sneak in amidst the chaos in an attempt to inspect the crane. It is buried and you cannot reach it.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You set the construction site on fire at 6AM. The doctor says they can get a procedure room booked under false pretences today. You knew this was a good idea.

Laying on the operating table with your skull cut open, the doctor describes the object. It is large and octahedral. You restrain yourself from commenting. It is metallic and smooth with no signs of joinery or any indication of assemblage. It is featureless save for one thing: A minutely raised circular portion just on the border where the object disappears into your brain tissue. He says it looks like a button.

You don't ask him to press it.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER---

You hear a voice yelling, "You're in a time loop!". You discreetly track down the source. It's not someone you recognise. You follow them around all day. They keep yelling, but nobody responds. You wonder how many times you were in their place.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER---

You consider asking the doctor to mark it with a scalpel or something, just to see if it carries over.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

It does.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You realise this doesn't help you in any way.

---WAY, WAY TOO MANY LOOPS LATER---

You ask him to press the button.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You actively check the date for what seems like the first time in forever.

It's the same.

Your house feels claustrophobic all of a sudden. You don't know what to do next. You could get him to press it again, like that would do anything? You could get him to remove it, like that wouldn't just kill you, maybe permanently? It's too much. It's not going to work. It's never going to work. You don't realise how high the tower of your hope was until it collapses underneath you and you feel like you'll never stop falling.

You run outside and scream.

Heads turn towards you.

Inexplicably, they start clapping and cheering.

A man steps forward and offers a handshake. "Welcome to the loop, man!" he says.

You shake his hand dumbly.

He explains what they think they know so far. Everyone is supposed to be in the same loop, but most of the devices aren't behaving properly. Or the synchronisation is an off by default feature and the random overlaps are the bug. Or something about tachyon fluctuations. You ask what points to any of these ideas. He says it's baseless speculation; he doesn't even know what a tachyon is, he just heard about them on Doctor Who once. He grins infectiously, like this is a joke he's told a thousand times and he still thinks it's the funniest thing in the world. Maybe he has. Maybe it is. You grin back.

You accept some offered snacks and hot chocolate, and a pin with "JUST AWAKENED" on it in large font; it'll let people know to give you space if you don't approach them and help if you do, apparently. It seems like there's a whole system to optimally rearrange everything in the opening hours of the day, but when you ask about it you're waved off; worry about that later, you get a week to acclimate yourself before you start being asked to get involved in logistics, they say.

You ask after the woman who kicked off your..."awakening!", someone helpfully chimes in. Awakening. Alright, that. Several people recognise the name; one offers to go get her. You say to ask her to meet you in the park in an hour. They say sure. You start walking.

You see "awakened" people doing all sorts of things, but what catches your ear is a conversation with someone who is very confused. Not everyone is awake yet, you guess. It sounds like every "unawakened" person has a looper assigned to explain the situation to them every morning, although sometimes one person handles a whole group. Maybe they tweak the process over time to try and make it more efficient?

You shake your head; not time for logistics yet. Though you can't help but wonder who was assigned to you, and how many times they had to give you the talk. Would it be awkward if you met? Would it be impolite to seek them out? Have they- it hits you that it was probably the guy who stepped up to talk to you. He might know you better than you know yourself. He probably tuned that tachyon bit until you found it comforting. It really might be the funniest thing in the world to you, at least at this moment.

You suppress a shudder. It's hardly fair to feel weirded out, you think, then you think you've probably thought that before, here, pre-awakening, and you suppress another shudder. At least he gave you space to think about it all. It'll be better tomorrow, when you remember him, too.

You reach the park.

She's already there; she's wearing a different outfit than you remember. She's probably been awakened for much longer than you; she did seem to have her head on pretty straight about tackling the whole thing.

Silence descends. You stare at each other. You imagine she's not entirely sure why you called her out here. You're not either, until suddenly you are.

You ask her out.

She turns you down.

You try to give your usual response, but both of you collapse into gales of laughter before you can.

It's like a spell breaking. Fighting down chuckle aftershocks, you talk a little about your respective experiences. She hasn't been here that much longer; only a few months. Those are just thirty-loop periods now, with the actual calendar unchanging as it is. They keep time by memory consensus and post it up every day; it's probably correct, although the possibility of errors creeping in can't be completely discounted.

You both stuck to the rejection script, but for different reasons; you out of habit, her in an effort to control for confounding variables. It's weird, thinking about the same things happening so many times for completely different reasons. You wonder aloud about all the versions of you from her loop, this loop, and all the other ones. Are they dead? Did they ever exist?

She stops you and tells you to go take Existential Processing 101 during your first week before getting into this; with so much time and interest in speculation on their shared experiences, there is an extremely extensive canon of ideas and established reasoning to go through in order to catch up. Oh, and don't forget to check the loop calendar for the current date; that's your Loopday, and if you don't remember it then it's unlikely anyone else will. People usually regret forgetting, especially anyone whose regular birthday was lopped off by calendar standardisation.

January 31st. Ah. You'd better make a note of it, then.

Conversation gradually peters out. You get the sense she's still in a curious explorative phase of her own adaptation, and the conversation with you was a welcome novelty and diversion but she'd like to get back to her life now, please. You excuse yourself with a smile and a wave that she returns; you'll probably chat again another time, but it's pretty clearly not going anywhere romantic. God, how does that even work now with the infinite time horizon and lack of aging? Somehow, you suppose; if you weren't convinced that humans could adapt to anything during your solo looping, you certainly are now.

You spend the rest of the day wandering. It's a weird mix of the environment you've been in forever, things that you'd guess have to be put up every day, and things that you reckon were probably placed on a whim with the knowledge that they'd be gone tomorrow. It's not always easy to tell the difference between those last two.

You wonder about other cities, other countries, and the world. You wonder what they're all doing with all this time. You wonder what you want to do with it. Maybe they have a program for getting people up into space for a day? It probably has a long waiting list, if it exists. If it doesn't, it sounds like a good idea to you. But it's not time to worry about logistics yet.

You wonder what the thing in your brain is. You wonder if people know it can be marked; you think they probably do. You guess it's being used to store data that's important enough to go to all that trouble for. It's not time to worry about logistics yet.

You're assuming interacting with it doesn't crash the loop any more; you've been talking to people about it all day, after all. You wonder why that mechanism existed and how it worked in the first place; probably a safety of some kind and probably based on the thing detecting itself or knowing about another one of it, you reckon. It didn't trigger when you heard it described, after all, or when you only suspected other people. You guess it had a fairly rigorous proof threshold. As for why, who knows? Maybe your brain would have turned to soup otherwise. Maybe it would have made awakening too easy. Maybe it would have let you acquire ultimate mastery over time and dethrone the gods. There's probably been a lot of speculation already.

You wonder whether they've tried removing the device from anyone. You hope not, but you suspect it's probably happened somewhere. You're not going to ask about that until much later, you think.

Your wanderings bring you home around sunset, strawberry crepe in hand from a dessert stall you passed along the way. True to their word, the "JUST AWAKENED" button worked as advertised; seems like everyone's been where you are right now and it engenders a lot of sympathy. You wonder who makes them every day and how. It's not time to worry about logistics yet.

You follow your old time loop routine in the evening. It's comforting and familiar where it used to be a piece of too-small driftwood in an endless flat sea. It contrasts nicely with the massive influx of novelty that the rest of the day represented; you scarfed that down desperately as your hunger for it made itself known, but you can't feed a starving woman anything too rich or plentiful or else they'll get sick. You realise that's why the newbie pin was so important.

At exactly the right time, you begin to tire. You make your way to your bedroom, lay down exactly as you have for countless years now, and sleep.

---SEVEN LOOPS LATER---

You begin to live.

Being stuck in a time loop for so long, you remember it clearly. And the loop was on the day she rejected you too. You didn’t have to, as it will loop back anyway, but you responded as you always did. You can already hear her rejection in your mind. “Ah it’s okay I-” “Sure why not.”

[dasiesanddarkness]

whenever people say that they dont think the crows act like teenagers i have to laugh because. like. as a teenager. they do. they're relatively mature because they're all severely traumatized and had to grow up fast (also because considering the time period it's based on it's completely reasonable for younger kids to be expected to do more) but they still act like teenagers. i've seen a bunch of people mention the "my ghost wont associate with your ghost" convo and "pay someone to pay someone to burn your kruge" but also, Jesper makes multiple sex jokes. Inej purposefully takes the harder route Kaz can't handle so he'll let her go alone. Wylan complains about pretty much everything. Nina spends most of the first book needling and pissing off her ex because she enjoys it. Kaz spends half his energy trying to be mysterious and cool. Matthias calls Kaz a demon for most of the books because he doesn't like him. Kuwei uses the fact that he looks like his crush's crush to kiss his crush. he also pretends he doesn't know Kerch because he didnt want to talk to people.

and, hands down the most teenager scene in the entire duology, Kaz and Jesper get in an argument and start a fucking fist fight. they are literally rolling on the ground punching each other. and everyone just fucking stands there. watching. Wylan wants someone to stop them but no one does. because they're not actively trying to kill each other. so whatever its fine. and then afterwards they're besties again. that is how 99% of the fights at my school go my dude, they are SUCH teenagers.

[cod-indulgences]

Ghoap x female!reader, sleepy sex, sub!Simon Riley, threesome, riding, anal

Think about sleeping in bed with Simon and Johnny. Big bed of course, and you liked to be in the middle- you didn't need a blanket with their big, heavy limbs all tangled around you, no clothes, just warm flesh and skin. Feeling Simon's steady breathing against your back, Johnny's heartbeat under your palm- you never slept better.

The best part was waking up to Simon's cock grinding on your ass, the man mostly asleep still, just taking comfort in your body. You hitch your leg up, over Johnny's side, and sigh as his hips slide lower, feeling him get thicker as he rubs up against your pussy. It's soft and easy and you arch your back a little as his arm tightens around you.

You lay like that, just a warm, easy awakening, Simon's scarred lips pressing kisses to the back of your neck as Johnny wakes up. He comes alive all at once, a blink and he's grinning with those blue eyes all crinkled up.

"Having fun without me?" He croons, and ducks his head to lick into your mouth. You gasp as Simon cups your breast, squeezing, Johnny kissing the sounds from your lips. One of their hands opens your thigh more, and you moan when Johnny angles his cock up against Simon's. They slide together against you, rocking motions that spread your slick and their precome over your pussy. You twitch every time Johnny rubs along your clit, or Simon catches at your hole.

Johnny releases your mouth, and leans over you, pressing you into the bed. You watch him kiss Simon, as sweet as honey, the blond man humming in pleasure. Johnny bites his lower lip and grins when Simon chases after him, their combined weight stealing your breath for a moment before they break apart, gasping as Simon takes the chance to kiss you himself. The scar across his lips tugs at yours, and you lick along it, following it down to his throat.

You roll over properly to keep kissing Simon, feeling him melt under you- so sweet here, so open and vulnerable. You sink your teeth into him, just a little, to hear him gasp, and feel Johnny's smirk as he slides down your body, his face resting against your ass. You still have Simon cradled between your thighs, now at the opposite angle, and moan in tandem with him when you feel Johnny's tongue lap around your pussy and Simon's cockhead.

The easy slow grinding slips away as Johnny works you both over, sucking at Simon's cock as he slides against you, fucking his tongue into your hole, making everything so hot and wet you can't tell the difference between slick, precome, and saliva.

Simon whines when you suck his nipple, easily close to your mouth, he's so tall- and you moan and shudder as Johnny angles Simon's cock to push against your hole, the broad head settling just inside. It's not nearly enough, and you work your hips to try and take him more inside. Simon's hands clench on your hips, and he moans and fucks up into you, inch by inch, taking all the slickness you've been collecting to ease the way. You're so tight, too tight, he feels like he's in your lungs like this. You whine as he bottoms out, feel his balls against your ass, and Johnny kisses your shoulder with sticky lips.

"Hold him like that, love, can you keep our boy warm for me? Go on, squeeze that lovely cunt down, give him a hug," and you clench your pussy around Simon, both of you shivering with it. Johnny pushes at Simon, moving him to his back; you roll with him, keeping his cock warm inside just like Johnny asked. His hands are busy, moving over your ass and thighs, propping Simon's hips up with a pillow. He sneaks his fingers around to rub your clit for a moment, making you squeak, before you hear the lube bottle open. Simon's eyes are huge and dark under you, all his walls stripped away, and you kiss him again, sucking on his tongue. His hands are huge and hot on your skin, squeezing handfuls of flesh like a comfort gesture, roving up and down your ass, your back, around to your breasts. He pinches your nipples, just lightly, tugging in the way you like best, that makes you squirm and gush more slick around his cock.

When Johnny slides his fingers in Simon moans and goes limp, big thighs twitching, his breath coming in little gasps as you keep kissing him. His cock twitches inside you, and you can't help but bounce on it just a little, to feel the stretch; Simon keens and you feel the ripple of his muscles under you, the way he must clench down on Johnny's fingers. The other man swears, and you hear more lube drizzling out, wet sounds as Johnny fingers Simon open. The big man is holding you almost too tightly, trying not to buck his hips up, torn between fucking his ass down onto Johnny or up into your pussy.

Johnny slips his fingers out- Simon's whines, bereft- and you moan as he pulls you upright, his hands taking over your breasts. The angle of Simon's cock changes, shifts against the wall of your cunt, and you feel your thighs shake a little with the new pressure.

Johnny hooks his chin over your shoulder to look down at Simon. He's an angel, big deep eyes and wild blond curls, face flushed pink. Johnny smiles against your throat, and as he pushes in Simon groans, his belly flexing, all that strength waking up then releasing again. Johnny is up against your back, tugging your earlobe between his teeth, and when he slowly draws out and back in you don't hold back the deep pleasured sigh from your lungs.

The three of you move together easily, hard and soft, wet flesh slipping and grinding. Simon is struggling, fucking into you sharply before he goes limp as Johnny drags across his prostate, whimpering when you bend to suck his nipple again. Johnny pinches the other one, getting it hard and pink, before he puts his fingers to your clit and begins to play with it.

You gasp and raise your hips up and down, letting Johnny tease you as you treat Simon's cock like a dildo- deep thrusts in and out, squeezing him as you lift up, making sure to drag him along the front wall of your pussy and the spongy bump of your g-spot.

Johnny is winding up higher too, hips snapping in and out, drinking in your sighs and Simon's moans.

"So pretty," you gasp, and cup Simon's cheek in your hand before you trace the lines of his throat. It's simple to lay your palm over his pulse, to feel how strong his heartbeat is, how fast it's going. "Can you hold on for us baby? Don't come until me and Johnny do," and he nods shakily. Johnny moans behind you, and you tilt forward, more weight on the hand on Simon's throat, letting Johnny set the rhythm. Hard and fast, making you slide back and forth, and he's so strong, the bed shaking as he fucks Simon fucking you. The curtains shift a little, stripes of early morning sunlight strobing over your bodies, sweat gleaming on your skin.

Poor Simon, overwhelmed, he woke up to relaxed grinding and now he's getting fucked within an inch of his life instead. He puts his hand over your own and presses down, increasing the weight on his throat, whining when Johnny's hand not on your clit squeezes his thigh. "Good boy," Johnny praises, "good fucking boy, feel her getting there? Going to come soon princess, put 'im out of his misery?"

His fingers keep dancing over your clit, rubbing circles as you pant and moan. You're so wet it's obscene, slick spreading down Simon's balls, and your pussy clamps down as you fuck Simon harder, taking him in as deep as possible, all that gorgeous strength helpless under your thighs, Johnny biting your shoulder as he gets closer too. You're nearly there, just a little more-

"Please," Simon gasps, "please, baby, please come, I'm so close I can't, I can't stop, I need it! Fuck, fucking come on me, baby- Johnny- I'm gonna-!"

His head is thrown back as he shouts, clutching at your hips as you finally come, all your muscles tightening in a wave as you bear down, clamp your pussy onto his cock and your hand onto his throat. You can feel it, the hot wet mess adding to your slick, Simon's come pouring into your belly, and keen as Johnny keeps playing with your clit through the aftershocks.

Johnny moans and pushes you to lie flat on Simon, his cock slipping out, and lifts Simon's thighs to open wider. He's so close too, his hips stuttering, and you raise your ass and spread your pussy with your fingers to show him the thick, shiny strings of come dripping from your hole.

He groans behind you and you grin against Simon, kissing his slack mouth as Johnny comes inside him, swallowing the soft little sounds. Johnny grinds in deep, and you feel him shudder as his whole body pours into his cock, filling Simon up as well, the thick hot smell of sex and sweat tickling your nose.

He drops down against your back, shoving another squeak out of you as your lungs compress, then rolls to the side, his leg tangled with Simon's. He's panting hard and you move to kiss him too, little pecks along the corner of his mouth, down his neck and chest. You bite his nipple and he swats at you, grunting. Simon is a liquid mess, his cock and groin tacky with your drying slick and his hole and thighs wet with come and lube.

You all somehow turned sideways on the bed through everything, and Johnny urges you both back to the pillows. It's still early, the light peeking through the curtains still soft, and you're eager to go back to sleep for a while longer, body warm and relaxed. Simon curls around you just like he was when sleeping, his chest against your back and his hands cradling your breasts and hips, already drifting off after getting his back blown out before the dawn was finished rising. Johnny won't go back to sleep, but he tugs the blankets up and kisses you both.

"Stay here?" You ask, catching his hand.

"Aye love, let me grab the tablet."

He settles himself against the headboard, tablet on his lap turned to a show with the volume down, and you bury your face against his thigh, an arm slung over his lap. Next to you, his hand plays with Simon's hair, flicking a curl between his fingers idly.

Later you'll get up and move about, start the day, but this is your favorite part.

[vvampirelust]

cnc mention beware

been thinking about a prison au scenario where Abby fucking owns the place. she’s top dog, no one’s messing with her. especially with her right hand, Ellie always watching her back. you need anything at all, you go to them. or one of their lackeys as a face to face is something to be earned. get on Abby’s bad side? let’s just say Els has always had a knack for shivving.

so imagine Abby setting her sights on you. suddenly paying attention and noticing you around more often. you’ve always steered clear of her and her lackeys, all the stories more than enough to put the fear into you. to say the least, it’s a shock when one day Abby eyes you in the cafeteria, wolf-whistling as if you were a piece of meat. “where’ve you been hiding gorgeous?” she drawls, not waiting for an answer as she passes by. ellie close at her heels, throwing you a smug, knowing smirk. leaving you flushed and confused.

since that day, she’s everywhere. lurking around every corner with a new compliment rude remark as if she knew you were coming. and she did. if Abby wants something, she’ll get it. hell, she’s even started holding up food lines to let you go before her. now Abby’s had her share of flings but even Ellie could tell there was something different about her interest in you. seemingly so innocent, she wonders what the fuck you’re doing in a place like this. and that makes Abby curious, it makes her crave you. whispers already spreading that you’re her prison wife.

okay so with that said and done

justttt thinking about how Abby and Ellie would sneak into your cell one night, you sleeping soundly and unaware. ellie would have your arms in her hold, ready to pin you down the moment you stirred in your sleep. which wouldn’t take long as Abby tears off the thin sheet, your bottoms and panties following suit, stripping your unconscious body. before crawling between your legs, flashing Ellie a wicked smile and burying face first into your cunt.

idk should i make this into an actual fic orrrrr

[rhyrhy]

Loser Ellie/abby headcannons?

Loser! Ellie & Abby headcannons!? YES!

Ellie

Ellie! who’s always subtly trying to pull you into her lap without actually asking, acting like it’s no big deal. But once you’re there, she’s all smug, holding you close and cracking a joke about how you’d be way more comfortable there than anywhere else.

Ellie! who thrifts funny t-shirts, and her favorite? is her “nobody knows I’m a lesbian” shirt. She wears it proudly, and you always laugh when you see her in it. Every. Time.

Ellie! who shows off smoke tricks she learned out of sheer boredom. Everything goes smoothly until she tries to show off a new trick, only to end up in a coughing fit. She dramatically has to redeem herself afterward, pulling you close for a victory kiss once she’s recovered. And pumped her fist to congratulate herself. Suchhh a dork.

Ellie! whose spam account username is ‘@/elliesaur,’ and her profile picture is of one of the cute little Dino figurines you gave her. She’s low-key obsessed with them.

Ellie! who During a makeout session, will suddenly pull away, and rushes to turn your plushies around, convinced they’ve been silently watching. It’s too much for them, apparently.

Ellie! who drags you along for her tattoo appointments. She squeezes your hand so tight during the session that your fingers go numb, but after, she’s all casual, saying she “totally handled it” like a champ while you know she was definitely whimpering into your shoulder.

Abby

Abby! who always tries to act tough, but when she’s with you, she lets her guard down, turning into this goofy, cuddly mess who insists on carrying you around “just because she can.”

Abby! who has a habit of secretly spoiling you, always sneaking in little surprises, like your favorite snacks or a small gift after a long day. It’s always a reminder that she’s thinking of you.

Abby! who is way too competitive but in a fun way. Whether it’s a video game, a race, or who can lift more weights, she makes it a mission to beat you, but there’s always a HUGE grin after she wins or loses.

Abby! who when she finally gets you to do a workout with her, tries her hardest not to laugh when you struggle to keep up. But the moment you give up, she’s the first to give you a pep talk.

Abby! was a bit inexperienced with women, and you had to fake an orgasm just once before dating because she hadn’t been with anyone else. Now, she’s learned the ropes and you never had to do it again. but it’s your secret, one that you’d never tell her.

Abby! who has an endless list of corny, sometimes embarrassing pet names for you.

Abby! who dropped you once when carrying you, and it’s still a running joke. No matter how much time passes, she’ll bring it up at the worst possible times. One night, when things started getting a bit too heated, she pulled away and asked if you were still mad about it…mind you, it was months ago.

Bonus: how they would react to a “I miss you” text with a little something extra!

Mlist here

[lynnieverse]

going going gone // rafe cameron

oneshot

ex!rafe cameron x reader

synopsis: you and rafe broke up a little over a month ago, and you're just now seeing him for the first time since...in a bar. once you talk, you realize you might have made a mistake.

1k words

From the first line you know it’s him. The deep, intoxicating voice you’d heard every car ride together filtered out of the bar’s speakers loudly. You whip your head around, immediately locking eyes with Rafe on stage. He’s in jeans and a t-shirt, but he looks good. Too good.

People are talking and laughing animatedly around you, but it all fades to the background as you hear what song he’s decided to sing.

“Like a runaway southbound train, like an Arizona desert rain, like lightning in the sky, like fireworks in July…”

Your heart drops at the realization, mouth parting slightly. His blue eyes penetrate yours with an intensity you almost can’t handle. You watch him pull the microphone from the stand and move around on stage, but he never stops looking at you.

You remember when he first played you this song, saying it was one of his favorites. You never understood why, but you could never hear it without crying.

You didn’t think going out to a karaoke bar with your girlfriends would end up like this. You haven’t seen him since the breakup, and you didn’t really want to. Things hadn’t ended the best, everything was left pretty open-ended.

“It’s like she was made for moving on, that girl is going going gone…”

Tears prick your eyes. Is that what he thought? You’re the first to admit you’re bad at relationships. You get scared easily. But putting the blame solely on you was just wrong. You felt him pulling away. You know you did. So why was this hitting so hard?

“Lovin’ her’s like roping in the wind…” he sang, voice cracking slightly.

You can see in his eyes he was trying to tell you something. You’re frozen, drink in hand, ignoring your friends' questions around you. This man…this man. He still has a hold on you. You’re entranced as he sings, words coming out of his mouth and stabbing you in the heart.

Rafe finishes his song, discreetly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and quickly leaves the stage. You immediately panic, trying not to lose him in the crowd.

“I’ll be back, I have to–” you don’t finish your sentence to your friend––Kiara––not even glancing back.

“What? Y/N!” she calls after you as you start pushing your way through the crowd. You ignore her, her voice blending into the rest the farther you get. You absentmindedly drop your cup, sticky liquid splashing on your ankles.

When you finally reach the back of the bar, you spot him. He’s sitting on a barstool, whiskey in hand, head hanging low.

“Rafe,” you say softly as you approach, making him jump.

“Y/N…what’re you doing here?” He sounds exhausted, eyes rimmed with red, and he can barely look at you.

“I…I honestly don’t know. I just–I felt like I needed to talk to you after that.” Rafe sighed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before downing it in one gulp.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? You hurt me.”

You scrunch your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest. “I hurt you? Are you serious? You could hardly stand to be in the room with me towards the end. You were sneaking around, hiding your phone, and barely speaking to me! What was I supposed to think, Rafe? I couldn’t–” You run a hand through your hair.

“That’s what this about? Oh my God.” Rafe laughs in disbelief. Without warning he pushes the barstool out and stands up, gripping her arm gently and dragging her out of the bar.

“Hey! What’re you–Rafe!” You struggle against his hold, curious eyes watching you both but not bothering to help. As you’re pulled into the chilly night air, you wrench out of his grasp. “What is wrong with you?”

Rafe tugs on his hair in frustration. “Y/N. I was trying to surprise you for your birthday, but it killed me to lie to you! I wasn’t pulling away or cheating or whatever you thought!” Your mouth parts slightly, all the air leaving your lungs. The world stops as you stare at him. What?

“What’re you–what are you talking about?” That couldn’t be true…could it?

“I should’ve just told you–God I cannot believe that this was the problem!” Rafe throws his hands in the air.

“I thought you were tired of me!”

“So you just left? I thought you didn’t love me anymore! I thought you couldn’t handle me just like everyone else,” his voice broke. You immediately feel terrible. You had just packed your stuff and left a note…you didn’t even hear him out.

You are such an asshole.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe, I had no idea.” His eyes blazed. You’d never seen him look so angry. He slowly stalks towards you, only stopping when your chests are touching. The heat radiating off of him helps against the bit of the winter wind. You look up at him as a tear trails down your cheek. His hand reaches up, wiping your cheek, before moving slightly to caress the back of your head. His breath fans against your cheeks, eyes glassy as he stares down at you.

“Don’t ever leave me again. Not without talking to me first.” Then, his lips were on yours. Your body immediately reacted, shifting impossibly closer to him. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, needing more.

After an eternity you break apart, breathless. Lipstick is smudged on the corner of Rafe’s upturned lips, and you wipe it away fondly. For the first time in weeks you could breathe again. You’d almost forgotten how much comfort he brought you.

He didn’t look mad anymore, but a deeper conversation was definitely needed. But for now, you were just content with having the love of your life back.

And this time, you aren’t going anywhere.

[moon-ttokki-x]

ninth member!reader who got her period on stage and leaked and after all the boys like cuddle her and stuff??

ooooohhhh that would be a nightmare . . . i'd be mortified >< hope all the female kpop stars out there don't ever have to experience this <3 here you gooooo~~

when you get your period on stage - skz x 9th member! reader

pairing: ot8!skz x 9th member!reader who gets their period

summary: you get your period on stage and skz helps you out !

genre: fluffy all the way through pretty much, idol! au, cute but confused innie, changbin is also confused but he's got the spirit, minho is horrified (not in a bad way i promise), blatantly feminist seungmin, reader has a period, mentions of eating, drinking, mentions of medication, period stains, and pads (does that need a warning?)

a/n: i've had a few period requests but this one was funny lol. div by @thecutestgrotto

skz masterlist

It begins with a dull ache.

It's not one that you notice, actually; you're too busy trying to reach something on the top shelf, munching on tteokbokki as you do. Jeongin and Felix stand by, watching curiously as your fingertips brush one of the extremely-caffeinated drinks that Chan has stocked out of reach. Seungmin watches, lying on the couch with half a smirk on his face.

You and the maknaes have been eyeing them since you were all ushered into the dressing room to be fitted for outfits. Now, you're making a daring attempt to try and sneak a few sips before the hyung line comes back from getting their makeup done.

Your stomach pangs from the amount of food you've wolfed down in the past ten minutes. At least, you think that's what it's from, but you don't have time to ponder it, because the speaker call for Stray Kids sounds over the intercoms.

Five minutes.

You're all ushered out into the backstage area, where the glitter and buzz of the upcoming performance lifts your energy more than the caffeinated drinks ever could. For the first time, you're glad that Chan has restricted something from you.

You turn just as a stylist does a few last-minute checks on your outfit and makeup; she adjusts the star stickers dotted around your nose and cheeks; you've been breaking out a lot lately, and you grin sheepishly as she peels a couple more off a plastic sheet, placing them systematically around your face.

She rolls her eyes affectionately as you feel Chan's warm hand on your back, pushing you gently to the space just before the performance stage.

Your intro music comes on and you're rocketing into the first few moves of the performance, smiling and dancing with all your might. It's exhilarating to be out on the stage after countless practices and lessons; this is everything you've worked for in the past few weeks.

You feel shiny and in the spotlight as you sing your lines with a flawless tune, relishing in the cheer of the crowd. Other artists sitting in the front few rows and looking through the stage wings look impressed as you shoot the camera a wink.

This is the most confident you've ever felt.

That is, until the performance slowly comes to an end, the music swelling and becoming louder until you feel your ears might burst. You push through, like always, and put every single iota of energy from your body into the last few moves, twirling perfectly into your ending position. You almost stumble, but catch yourself, covering it up flawlessly. You catch Minho's knowing smirk as he positions himself behind one of the other members, and you fight the confused look as his face as his face drops, eyes widening, and he turns back to look at the front.

You don't have time to overthink Minho's strange reaction to you either, because you spot your fancam, and that's when you feel it.

The gush.

You know that feeling well enough to know that it's not discharge, or anything of the sort; you even hope you've just mildly pissed yourself because you would rather it be anything but that. Anything.

Unfortunately, your wishes aren't granted.

You fight the wince on your face as everything starts falling into place; the breaking out, the overemotional responses to dance feedback, and even the unusual amount of fatigue and headaches you've been fighting for most of the week. And of course, those stomach pains earlier were most definitely not from an overdose of delicious tteokbokki. They were cramps.

You press your thighs together and hope there's not a cameraman behind you filming. Putting on your best smile for the fancam, you hold your ending position and make a few cutesy faces to satisfy the fans as the lights go down.

The stage momentarily darkens as the live camera filming crew make their final cuts, and the next artist lines up at the wings as you all hurry off stage. You bow hurriedly as your hands hover embarrassedly at your behind, hoping against hope that you haven't stained the pretty star-cutout jeans you've been given. Because, of course, it had to be lightly coloured, and not the usual dark leather pants you always wear. Denim should hide the potential stain, right?

Of course, no such luck.

You look down and see a pair of muscled arms as your belt; Jisung has whipped off his jacket is and tying it hurriedly around your waist, looking as far away from your lower half as possible. You look up, and see most of the members looking at you; they all hastily avert their gazes at your cheeks burn in shame.

"You feeling okay, Y/n?" Changbin, who has just come back from taking off his mic, looks you up, then down, his brow creasing in concern. "Jisung, why'd you take your jacket off?"

Jisung retracts his arms from around your waist, his face going red. "I- uhm, uh.. you- she, um.. you know..."

Changbin stands in confusion, not understand his friend's stuttering. Felix facepalms and steps forward, taking your hand. By now, one of your arms is wrapped around your waist, trying to soothe the dull, throbbing pain in your lower gut. He starts leading you away, and the boys follow, looking anywhere but you.

Chan immediately takes control as soon as you all step into the dressing room, sending one of the boys to fetch a pair of sweats and a new top from their bag. He gently pushes you to the bathroom and takes out your emergency kit from your bag, giving you a gentle, reassuring smile.

In the bathroom, you tie your stained underwear in a scented plastic bag and put it in the bin. They were old, anyway. Changing into a new pair of underwear and pressing a thick pad to the fabric, you wash your hands and then stick a hand out the bathroom door to receive the spare clothes from one of the boys. You change and exit the bathroom.

Hyunjin has managed to steal several teabags from the staff waiting room, and the rich scent of floral tea fills the air, instantly soothing you. You sit down and try not to make eye contact with anyone.

"Hey, Y/nnie."

You look up as your gaze meets Chan's again. "Yeah..."

"It's okay. I don't think anyone noticed, hmm?"

You groan, your face going red. "What if they did?"

"Then who cares?" Seungmin adds from the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone, where a game screen is loading. "It's normal."

You blink at the unexpected show of support, however blunt it is, and fight a weak smile, crossing your arms over your stomach. Hyunjin hands you the cup of tea and you inhale the light steam, taking a hot mouthful and swallowing slowly, the liquid heat caressing the aching contractions in your abdomen.

You look up just as Jeongin shyly hands you two hand-warming pads. You take them with a smile, fighting the urge to squish his cheeks.

You do it anyway. "What are these for, Innie?"

"Mhmmff- noona, stop... they're for your stomach.. I heard that heat helps, but we don't have a heat pad-"

A tear spills down your cheek at the cuteness (and maybe the hormones). The entire room riots and yelps fill the silence.

"INNIE YOU MADE HER CRY-"

"NOONA DON'T CRY PLEASE-"

"You look so ugly when you cry, Y/n."

"AYEN WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

You groan and cover your ears. "It's fine, I'm just getting hormonal- thank you, Innie. These will help."

He nods and smiles cutely before moving to rest at your side, his warmth providing instant comfort.

I wonder what happened, he thinks, resting his head on your shoulder. I still doesn't know why she's bleeding out of your butt, but at least she's not crying.

Chan comes into the room again with a staff member who, on coming up to you, hands you a blister packet of two tablets. You take the painkillers with a grateful smile and down them in a mouthful of the tea.

"Thank you," you say quietly to the group.

Jisung grins, still without his jacket. "Feeling any better, cutie?"

You nod, smiling.

"Yeah."

a/n: yayyy ! anyway idk how i was supposed to end this . . . anyway

[somnus-lucis-caelum]

The art of conversation. Aerith had mastered it and she proved it over and over again. Even with her little brother. This was not the harmless bit of doing smalltalk at a festive with half-stranger nobles, she still could recall every detail about. This was her brother. Innocent and naïve. And he had asked a question that was all spikes and thorns, ready to shatter his world.

But Aerith just took it with delicate hands and turned it into sweet nothings, blowing it back into her brother’s face like kisses.

Roran took the bait and Somnus was surprised by the sudden mention of his name. The little prince seemed desperate to prove himself to him. It made Somnus smile a bit, giving Roran a nod.

“Do not worry, I was the one making us stop for wild animals and fresh springs, too.”

There was mischief written all over this young prince – and Aerith, too. It was entertaining watching how they and the family around them acted. Somnus was good at watching people, he had done so for years. No detail was lost on him. This family was special. It seemed like the children were their entire pride and focus. They all gravitated around them like planets around suns.

Aerith’s little gestures only made Somnus shrug his shoulders a little, having to fight his grin at staying a polite smile. This was…. More entertaining than any other dinner he had before. Even though he loved his own family, recent dinners had becoming more stiff, more formal. Especially if guards or other nobles were present. It was never like… this.

The prince consort sighed and shook his head, pointing a loaded fork at his brother.

“You showed him how to sneak in there.”, he claimed simply, before putting the bite in his mouth and then focusing on Aerith and Somnus.

“Aerith, I hope you showed him around already – and told him how things are around here. Not to shellshock the Lucian prince. Things are a little different around here. Though I liked how he addressed his own father as ‘Your Majesty’ every now and then, can’t reckon I ever heard that coming from you.”

Teases. Some of them built on how Somnus acted – making him squirm a little on the inside. Though the Queen seemed to warn her dear husband with a mere glance. She was a lot more tactful than he was.

“What? I am right.”, Glenn uttered, “Fine… there will be things to go through tomorrow. New lessons, how you two shall behave around the court and palace for now. Like I got, when I was allowed to enter these circles. There will be no excuses for any of you missing this. It is important. And some of these lessons are separate… so do not expect a whole day of making eyes at each other again…”

The pricne consort was still speaking, as Roran had sneaked two olives up and held them in front of his eyes like a running non-verbal commentary to whatever his father was talking about.

Ifalna looked to Somnus, only finding some calm when he voiced his gratitude. "It is my understanding that some Lucian soldiers will remain stationed here in service to their Prince. When you are finalising your troop you can take into consideration which of your countrymen have taken a liking to their new lodgings." Yet still the Queen seemed to glance her husband with a sigh worn on her face. "Like herding cats from the kitchen." she commented softly, Aerith and Roran were free-spirited.

"Like weeds in the garden." Leif offered unapologetically. He raised his chalice in a toast when Aerith uttered a tone of complaint. "Unruly, and growing at such an alarming rate." That 'aww' from Roran drew a small grin.

Aerith turned to Somnus at her side. She didn't utter a word or whisper, simply gestured silently with her hand. Look. Look at what she had to deal with! Teasing her, right in front of the appetisers!

Usually they would have a soup to begin their evening meal, but it was obvious this was marked as a special occasion. It was a welcoming meal for Somnus, rather than a modest bowl, they were instead presented with various dishes of foods that were best nibbled on over conversation and drink. The aged cheese and cured meats were commonplace, but the olives marinated in herbs and the grilled sausage she had also spied in Lucis were a blatant nod to someone in particular. Her father and uncle had been obsessed so it was little surprise the recipe had followed them home.

Then there was the girl tray, or so Aerith had once declared it. She and her mother pecked at it the most — crunchy pickled vegetables tossed together, with capers separate in case Roran invaded the platter. Fine slices of what seemed to be an egg tart without any pastry was the 'something new' for Somnus to behold, it was coloured a vibrant green from finely chopped herbs that flavoured the cooked egg from something tame to a small slice of something with a lot of kick.

Aerith was in the middle of asking Somnus whether the sausage passed his taste when suddenly Roran caught her with a simple question.

The table fell quiet, and all eyes seemed to shift between the siblings. Her father seemed to intervene, but she so suddenly put on a smile and shook her head. "You just think we were slow because you arrived on a dragon!" she accused, drowning out all of the awkwardness with something far more playful. "We arrived home quicker than we arrived to Lucis, you know. Bet that was because we didn't have to stop every 5 minutes for the little Prince to hop out and inspect all the new flowers and plants we were viewing along the way!"

Just like that, Roran's curious jabs were thwarted and he was instead denying the accusations flung against his name, little arms waving in the air. "I did not! Somnus, it wasn't only me we were stopping for — Aerith did it too!" Little man had to defend his reputation, a good sign, he clearly looked up to the other Prince at the table to defend his name so fiercely.

"That's enough roaring, Roran." Ifalna eased into the conversation, seeking to tame her raging sprout with a smile. He seemed to melt to a puddle in his chair when his mother intervened. "You have barely eaten. And I know you visited the kitchen, young man. Confess. Have you been into the bread rolls again?" She received no verbal reply. Merely a toothy little grin. "Roran."

"He gets it from you." Leif remarked, eyeing his brother. Glenn looked bone tired. Relieved to be home, and relieved to have his family safe and sound, he was able to shed his usual strong posturing. Though his brother still took an opportunity to poke at his ribs so to speak.

Again, Aerith turned to Somnus with a silent gesture. Look. Look at he now had to deal with too! She hoped he was happy, because this was his new life in full swing. The dinner was dressed up but her family acted all the same.

[crowsofdarkness]

Working with The Avengers wasn't an easy task especially when you and Steve seem to butt heads a lot. Mostly because neither of you wanted to admit how you felt about each other. That was until he cornered you in his bedroom one day.

18+ CW'S underneath the cut(spanking, fingering, oral with female receiving, pinv)

For the third time, I asked Steve the question that was burning deep in my mind every since I met him years ago. 

“What do you want, Steve? I’m tired of this dance. Just tell me the truth.”

“All I ever wanted was you,” his voice was low. 

I raised my chin at him. “You have a funny way of showing it.” 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, an action I watched intently, and then his voice dropped even lower. Those usually bright eyes were dark and it made the air thick, heated, and full of spice. It made it harder to breathe as his grip tightened around my throat slightly.  

“Let me show you.” 

Those four words were everything I needed to throw everything out the window. I could continue to pretend that Steve means nothing to me after years of dancing around each other. Every time someone asked him why he was still single, it was always the same answer. 

Just waiting for the right person. 

So now as I found us in his bedroom, Steve pinning me to the wall, I couldn’t help but ask that same question.

“Are you still waiting for the right person?” My question was a breath over his lips. 

A low noise rumbled in Steve’s chest as his hand gripped behind my neck, yanking my mouth to his. 

“She’s right in front of me.” 

Every single doubt and fight I had within me vanished the second our lips touched, those familiar fireworks exploding. My hands were all over Steve; his neck, chest, ribs, and back as they sneaked underneath his shirt. While one of his hands continued to grip the back of my neck, the other held tight on my hip so I couldn’t leave. 

As if I wanted to. 

Our tongues molded together and he swallowed my moan when his teeth bit down on my bottom lip. For a moment, reality struck with clarity and I pushed Steve off of me, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. 

“We shouldn’t do this. We work together, it’s going to cause issues with the team if we break up,” I warned, breathless. 

His lips were kiss swollen as those stormy eyes never left my lips. 

“Fuck that. I’m tired of dancing around each other. I know you are too.” 

When I remained silent, Steve smirked while grasping the back of my head to crash his lips on mine again, this time with more hunger. It was as if he was a man starved, desperate for his last meal. 

“You need to go,” I groaned when his lips began trailing down my chin and neck. 

“Go where?” He asked. “Here?” 

A gentle bite to the shell of my ear. 

“Or here?” 

A kiss on the sensitive part of my skin between my neck and shoulder which caused me to shiver in his embrace. 

“What about here, Doll? Do you want me here?” 

The head of his cock brushed along my clit from underneath our clothes and I nearly fell at his feet until Steve’s strong arms lifted me to carry me over to his bed.I fell onto the mattress with a slight giggle but it was hushed with Steve consuming me once more. My entire soul went up in a fiery blaze when he began rutting his hips into me and it was as if we were a couple of teenagers again making out and thinking that was the best part of it. We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other as I helped him out of his shirt and he all but ripped my sweater off, leaving me in an olive green bralette. 

His eyes darkened before he left teeth marks between the swell of my breasts, lapping up his saliva and dried sweat from the day and I raked my nails through this hair.

“I’ve missed the way you tasted, Y/N,” Steve mused while kissing his way back up to my lips.

This time the kiss was slow, as if we had the rest of our lives together and there was no need to rush anything. It was like he was trying to imprint me into him, never wanting to forget anything again. 

I reached for the button on his pants, pulling down the zipper to slip my hand inside, palming his hard cock. 

Holy. Shit. 

“Shit, doll,” he cursed when I squeezed him. “Just like that.” 

I did it a few more times while his forehead fell to my chest, panting his warm breath over my skin. I lifted his face with my other hand to kiss him again, the savageness poured out of him. 

The room smelled of our desperation as I shimmied out of my leggings while he stepped out of his pants, after unhooking my bra and tossing it over his shoulder. As Steve stood at the end of the bed, I let my eyes rake over every defined muscle of his body; tongue begging for a simple taste of his skin and the head of his cock that was almost slipping through his briefs; the black briefs doing absolutely nothing to hide his arousal. 

Rising to my knees on the bed, I ran my palm over his cock again, his entire body shivering underneath my touch.

"Fuck, doll,” Steve groaned before his teeth grasped at my bottom lip, yanking it away from me. 

I hissed in pleasure, the taste of copper lingering on my tongue.

"Did you-." I licked my bottom lip and then tilted my head to the side. "Did you just bite me?"

Steve pushed me back down on the bed so he could take in the sight of me bare for him; those stormy eyes were now clear with only one thing. 

Heat. 

“I can’t believe I went so long without this,” he muttered to himself while stepping out of his briefs, his cock finally springing free. 

I licked my lips at the sight of it, salivating for a taste of the precum that he smeared over the head. But instead, I felt like being a brat with Steve, not allowing him to think I wasn’t still upset with him. 

“It’s your own fucking fault,” I shot back with a sly smirk, resting on my elbows. 

My squeals echoed in the trailer when Steve flipped my tiny frame over on the mattress so my ass was exposed to his palm, a hard strike falling onto it. I writhed against the bed when another harsh strike came down on my ass, my mewls of pleasure being drowned out by the pillow. 

“You’re such an ass,” I seethed when the spankings stopped. 

Steve palmed my reddened cheek while looming over my back, his breath warm on my neck. 

“Do you like it rough, Y/N?” His question was heavy on his tongue. 

Instead of answering, I raised my hips from the bed with his name falling from my lips in a whine full of desperation. Steve had barely touched me but the wetness between my legs was warm and sticky.

I needed this release more than oxygen. 

"What do you want from me?" His fingers dragged up my slick folds from his position behind me before slipping one inside, the feeling of his rings making me stiffen. 

My head was turned to the side so I could gaze up at him over my shoulder. However, he wasn't looking at me. His eyes were trained hard on his finger pumping in and out of my pussy, the sounds of my arousal overpowering the sounds of my panting. Seeing the desperation on his face as he tried to hold himself back made me push my ass closer to Steve. 

“Use your words, doll,” he ordered while flicking his eyes to me for a moment. 

I shook my head, words foreign when he slipped another finger inside of me, spreading them wide like a V. 

“Did you forget how to speak?” 

Steve clicked his tongue against his teeth, ready to pull his fingers out when my begging halted him. 

"You. I just want you."

The bed shifted behind me when I noticed Steve disappear only to feel the wetness of his tongue press against my pussy to lick my arousal. The sharpness of his teeth scraped along my clit as he buried his face deeper into the sweet spot between my legs. 

“You taste so good, Y/N,” he mused, pressing gentle kisses on the inside of my thigh. 

“Don’t stop,” I all but whined, wanting to feel his tongue again. 

Steve ate me out from behind with both hands on my hips, continuing to keep me in place as my body writhed on the bed from the onslaught of his mouth. When his lips wrapped around my clit to suck hard on the sensitive bud, I screamed out his name. 

“Steve,” I drowned it out with a moan. “It’s so good. I’m so close.” 

With the indication my orgasm was on the brink of collapse, he slipped a finger inside of me again. While his mouth was a rough attack on my clit, his finger was a gentle caress of my inner walls with slow strokes. Sheer ecstasy was slowly building at the base of my spine, warming up all of my senses until I felt like I could combust at any moment. Steve flicked his tongue over my clit and I buried my face into the pillow, the musky scent of my wellness tickling my nose as my body shook out my orgasm. My cries of release sounded like music to Steve’s ears as he hummed in praise, drinking up my arousal as it gushed over his tongue and fingers. 

It had been so long since I had an orgasm that wasn’t brought on by my hand or a toy. I lay limp on the bed, breathless, as the after-shocks slowly began to fade along with the hazy bright lights, my soul returning from wherever it retreated to. I barely felt the kisses upon my thigh and then lower back as Steve dragged a finger down my spine. 

“Are you on anything?” He asked, lust gone from his voice for a second. 

I nodded while glancing over my shoulder and seeing my arousal coating his lips. The sight was so intoxicating that I almost uttered those three words that plagued my existence since I first met him. 

“Y/N,” he tapped my back, bringing me out of my thoughts. 

“Implant,” I replied. 

My head leaned back in pure bliss when Steve dug his nails into my hips as he pressed himself past my wetness, the thickness of his cock filling me. It twitched inside of me, earning a disgustingly desperate groan from me. 

Steve left no space between us as he held us in place on the mattress and I tried to move my hips in his grip. It was so rough, I knew I would have bruises later but frankly, I didn’t care. All I cared about was how good it felt to have him inside of me. 

“So tight, doll. I can’t-.” 

His eyes fluttered shut as his lips parted to an 'O' shape when I rocked my hips against him with my swollen clit rubbing against the cool blanket and I shivered at the sensation. Everything from our fight to our kiss sent me in a spiral of pure ecstasy and I felt the coil in my stomach pulling tight again. My previous orgasm was still lingering and it didn’t take long before I felt that familiar tingly feeling in my spine. 

“Steve, I’m going to-.” 

Still inside of me, he managed to flip me over so now I was staring up at those dark eyes; pupils blown wide with lust. Now, Steve didn’t hold back as he hooked my leg up and around his shoulder so he could thrust in a deeper angle. 

“Oh god,” I closed my eyes, the new sensation causing the coil to hurt. 

“Eyes on me, Y/N!” He snapped with a low growl and I immediately obeyed. "You're so fucking beautiful, doll.”

I wanted to have that coil spring free with my second orgasm. I attacked his lips with such force Steve had to hold himself up with one hand on the headboard, the other slipping between the place where our bodies met to play with my clit; exactly how I liked. Our tongues explored each other's mouths in a kiss so vicious it made my head spin.  Steve’s pace was erratic and merciless but it didn’t stop me from begging. 

"More," I mumbled into his lips.

That's all he needed before he maneuvered us so he sat in the middle of the bed with me in his lap and he held me closer to his chest as his hips snapped up into me in violent strokes, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot. I yelled out my pleasure, exposing my neck to Steve who immediately attacked it with his teeth leaving bite marks all along the skin sticky with sweat.

My body hummed in a prayer-like awaking, the flames and heat burning high in my belly as my organs crested higher; so fucking high I was afraid I would combust into nothing but matter in the air. His name fell from my lips in devotion, a woman praying to her God, and my toes curled as the orgasm ripped through me with so much force I screamed out in pure nirvana.

“I love you, Y/N,” Steve professed with a strangled breath as he spilled himself inside of me, cock throbbing with his release. 

[booksooks]

knight!sylus

starts w him being knighted by your father. right. but his eyes are on you the entire time. cannot look away, and neither can you. yall have known each other since childhood. and now he's taking an oath to protect you for the rest of his life with all he has, and he's delighted. there's now no real reason for you two to be apart, and he proves it by shadowing you to every council meeting, every court appearance, and every night of revelry. (and if he happens to scare away potential suitors every time… you're not ungrateful.)

and so the next few years go on like that, your father peacefully transitions power to you so that you're now the ruler of your kingdom, loyal knight still by your side. and so duh, there's a coronation ball that doubles as a ball for you to find a spouse. because your father is insisting, and who are you to deny the request of the man who raised you? so you host the celebration, switching between taking turns around the room in the arms of someone entirely boring, or sitting in your personal box to watch the laundry list of potential suitors spinning below. and it's not until several hours later, when you're sure that you've danced with everyone and your head is killing you that sylus gently pulls you away, reassuring you that no one will notice you being gone for a few. yall sneak down to the empty kitchen and steal a few nibbles. it's peaceful, something you haven't been able to say all night. and it's not until you start thinking about going back that sylus puts a hand on your waist and asks you to wait for him, even as he steps closer. and because you trust him, because you know sylus would never, ever hurt you, when he brings his head down to hover just above your lips, you're not nervous. but he hesitates, because what if, this one time, he's wrong about you? what if he's completely misread, and you're 2 seconds away from shoving him back and excommunicating him from the kingdom?

but he's not wrong (thank god) because you're sliding your hands through his hair and pulling him closer, not wanting to delay this anymore. and really, it all unravels from there in the best way possible. the night ends, everyone goes home feeling like their time was a little bit wasted because why would you invite them out to have a chance at your hand in marriage when you knew you were in love with your personal knight? but their opinions don't matter. your father approves of the union, and the wedding is everything you've ever wanted. sylus surprisingly doesn't choose to take the title of king, instead preferring to be able to protect you at all times. sure, he'll give his opinion when he thinks it's wanted, but he doesn't crave the power that comes with being king. you are enough.

something something something timeskip, despite your best efforts the neighboring kingdom declares war on you. but not in the traditional sense, no, they poison your food, set traps for traveling parties, and even send assassins after you. and sylus, ever worried for your life but still respectful, lets you stay. you dont want to show fear or to give up, so he stands by you throughout the long ordeal.

it isnt until there's an almost successful attempt on your life (that wouldn't have been 'almost' successful had sylus not been sleeping in bed with you) that he convinces you to go on the run. your cities have all been decimated, fields have been razed to the ground, so there's really no point in defending yourselves anymore. you pack up that night, leaving the dead body of a would-be murderer on the floor in front of your bed. you're not used to the cold nights, but the water by the lake is soothing as you curl up next to sylus, your husband, under a tent for the night. it takes a few weeks for you to get adjusted, which makes you jealous of sylus who seems to know every edible and poisonous plant on the planet. you're grateful, of course, but you can't help but feel useless when it takes much longer for you to adjust to living in the wilderness.

an idea occurs to you after the fifth time of your hair, once perfectly cared for and shiny, now dull and tangled, gets caught in branches as you and sylus traipse through the woods. you bring the idea up to your husband that night, quiet in front of the bonfire as he cooks dinner for you both. the idea of cutting your hair is shocking to him, because wouldn't you want to keep a part of your old life? (he questions himself, not realizing he is all you need to remind yourself of who you once were.) but he agrees easily, and takes the knife you brought to start cutting your hair with the utmost reverence in the world. he treats your hair with every ounce of respect he can muster, as if you were still the country's leader (you still are, to him, strong and fearless and kind), and does his best to make you look good. it's choppy, sure, but you still look like you, and theres nothing sylus could be more grateful for. he loves you. yes, he's said it countless times, not one to let you forget the fact, but he truly loves you. with everything he has. and you can tell, it's so obvious with every gentle sweep against your neck to get rid of hair clippings, and in the way he presses a soft kiss just below your ear. he loves you. you love him. you don't have your fancy clothes, your castle, your kingdom, or your people, but you have each other, and you know that's enough, and that sylus feels the same.

idea by @twink-fuery ily gamer /p ty for feeding the sylus flames w me

[bettyfrommars]

Hold up, I had to open a second tab for my commentary because 😂😂😂 Really extra spooky the way you got into my head for this Jo. The Royal Doulton mugs??? Seller 86 👀 I'm smiling like a damn fool. Dude leaves an Anne Boelyn mug in my space and it's coming home with me.

I find a booth where someone made little taxidermy animals play poker and I'm falling in love, you obviously know this. I wouldn't put it past him to taxidermy roadkill because he feels bad for them.

Anyway

OH I SEE HE'S DOING IT ON PURPOSE NOW

Every week, he metaphorically photobombed your snapshot at the last second and your perfect polaroid had bunny ears. 😂😂😂

Not him stashing things in the cookie jar like a little raccoon lmaoooo

FUNNY STORY and a SECRET but I am actually the one who sneaks things into other people's booths

"You done there, killer?" Eddie asked with a smirk. "You feel better?" "Yeah," you shouted one last time, then lowered your voice. "Yes I do."

Boy, if that isn't the best way to handle me coming unglued, I don't know what is.

I'm in love with him actually. I always have a crush on any Eddie you write, and this was no exception. The silver streaks in his hair?? Swoon. I also love that I know you well enough now to see you in reader too.

Something like this means so much to me. Love you, friend.

Antiquing v. Thrifting (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: You have a little booth at the local antique market and the owner of the neighboring booth tends to get on your nerves.

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Slight enemies to lovers, meet cute, misunderstandings, fluff, banter

Note: This is a late birthday gift to one of my fandom loves who has become an amazing friend IRL too. @bettyfrommars. Betty thank you for being one of my weirdo soulmates, loving old gameshows, wishing we could live in a mid century modern house with all of the original fun appliances. You are one of my favorite people and since I can't send you my bowling ball (one day) I've written this for you. Love you.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

--

There was not much to drive you to want to murder someone. In fact, you would say that you were probably one of the most easygoing people you knew. And you knew plenty of people.

But the person at the receiving end of your ire, and the target of your bloodlust, was one of the most inconsiderate assholes you knew.

Actually, you didn’t even know who it was.

You’d been one of the vendors at The Little Traveler's Antique Market for years. You had a booth along the back wall, acquired when you realized your love of vintage Pyrex was getting a little too overzealous for your shoebox-cum-condo. Besides, the thrill of the hunt was the real thing that you enjoyed: estate sales and rummage sales and thrift stores were filled with treasures just waiting for you to find.

So a few shelves of Gooseberry and Butterprint went up, and eventually it turned into a haven for all sorts of vintage pieces. It was a shrine to your whims, rather than any real desire to find monetary value. Of course, people seemed to flock to it, so the cash you made from it was nice..but that was neither here nor there.

It was something you were good at, and something you loved. You'd met some very interesting people--and some of your closest friends--because of it. Heard the best stories.

Unfortunately, you'd also met some of the most insufferable people because of it too. Or rather, in this case, one insufferable person you pointedly had not met.

It had started when a bunch of Royal Doulton character mugs showed up in your space. And they weren't terrible, but they just weren't yours. Your hand-picked selection of Hazel Atlas glasses had been carelessly shoved to the side on a vintage mahogany sideboard you'd painstakingly hauled in, and in their place were Paddy and Toby and George Fucking Washington, all staring goofily up at you.

Ok, so maybe the Anne Boleyn one wasn't bad.

It was the principle of it. There were unspoken rules in an Antique Market. You just didn't encroach on someone else's space.

You painted the kindest smile you could manage--which, in all honesty, probably looked more like you were baring your teeth--and headed up to the front to confront the manager of the market.

"Margie," you began with a saccharine tone. You set the Anne Boelyn mug down on the counter. "May I kindly ask who Seller 86 is?"

"Oh, that's our new guy," she laughed, oblivious. "Ed. Great guy. He's got some fun stuff."

"Yeah, real fun."

"We did a little shuffle over the weekend," she continued, diving into one of her rambling midwest-isms. "Jim wanted to downsize, which opened a bigger space for Michelle to move into. One thing led to another, and I put Ed in Chelle's old space, next to yours. Hope you don't mind."

What could you say except a cordial of course not? Even as you were left to grumble and mope back to your booth to move all of the Royal Doulton back to Ed's new space. You set them out on a folding table he had in the corner, very nice and neat, which was your standard.

You might have also left a little, tiny, friendly, scathing note.

No big deal.

And you wouldn't lie, you snooped a little.

Come on, everyone else would, too. It was just...shopping. Not snooping.

You couldn't judge the wild array of things he had for sale; much like you, it seemed that everything in Ed's booth was suited to his tastes, because there was just a vibe of "who in their right mind would put some of this shit together." Little taxidermy animals playing poker, postcards from the most random places, vintage beer and coffee cans that, though empty, looked as new as the day they were bought. Garfield and Snoopy memorabilia. And mugs...so many mugs, as far as the eye could see.

It was charming, you could admit that, as long as it all stayed on his side of the vaguely-defined boundary between your booths.

Unfortunately, it did not.

It was never anything major but it was enough to annoy you. Books left out on a table, vinyl records in a crate in a corner, gaudy biker costume jewelry thrown in one of your mixing bowls. Each time you went to restock your booth, you'd have to find whatever treasures he left behind and return them, along with another note.

It was like finding the secret little corner where your cat pissed because they were mad at you. Admittedly, this might've been worse because you were proud. So very proud of your booth. It was a snapshot of you, after all. But that was sullied by little pieces of Ed, a guy you didn't even know, who seemed to enjoy pissing strangers off.

Every week, he metaphorically photobombed your snapshot at the last second and your perfect polaroid had bunny ears.

Or a crude gesture.

Or sometimes even his whole, bare ass.

And you were simply not vindictive enough to do anything about it.

It just wasn't worth the trouble to actually return the favor to him, or better yet, get him kicked from the market altogether. What if his little booth was his livelihood? What if this was how he made ends meet? Your pride wasn't worth ruining something for someone else.

Yes. You were a pushover.

You, surprisingly, got a reprieve for a few weeks.

Each time you'd gone to restock your booth with fun new treasures, there were no hidden trinkets waiting for you. Actually, Ed's booth didn't even look like it had been restocked or touched at all. There were holes in his displays where his wares had been purchased but not replenished. Was he on vacation? Maybe he was under the weather.

You took it upon yourself to spend a few minutes shuffling his mugs like a good neighbor would.

It was a disappointment relief.

Why wouldn't it be a relief? It wasn't like you'd started looking forward to what and where you'd find Ed's little surprises. It wasn't the thrill you'd get when the adrenaline spiked with your anger.

No, not at all.

"What's got you so pouty?" Margie asked as you trudged through the doors about three weeks after Ed's initial disappearance. "Did Dunkin get your coffee wrong again? That's how I know my morning is gonna be shitty."

"Must've woken up on the wrong side of the bed," you gave a weak excuse and headed towards your booth.

You were juggling an armful of tote bags and your coat, so you didn't notice the stranger standing in your space as you approached, until they turned around and spotted you.

"Oh, hey, lemme help you with that," came the rasp of a friendly voice as you rounded the corner. You looked up, surprised, as a set of hands hoisted the heaviest of your tote bags from your grasp.

He was like a relic, frozen in time. In a good way, though, like a well-kept polaroid from the 80s. Faded band tee, bootcut blue jeans, leather jacket that looked butter-soft from eons of wear. His hair was on the longer side and tied back; salt-and-pepper streaks proudly confirmed his personal antique status, along with the crows feet surrounding his deep, warm brown eyes.

He was a gentleman...and he was cute.

You felt like an idiot as your eyes slid down to his left hand on instinct. But there was no ring, so that self-loathing feeling disappeared. Well, no wedding ring, actually. He had a gunmetal band on his pointer finger, and a silver signet ring on his pinky.

Time returned to its appropriate speed as he hauled the tote onto your folding table just a few feet away.

"Jesus, what've you got in here? Bricks?" he laughed. "Are you trying to put Home Depot out of business?"

"Uh..." You floundered for words. "P-pewter tea pots. One of my regulars is getting married. Asked me to keep an eye out for them for her centerpieces."

"Never seen that at a wedding before."

"How many weddings have you been to?" You questioned.

"Well, my buddy Gareth alone has gotten married 3 times." He folded his arms across his chest and leaned his hip against your sideboard. "So I think I've got a pretty good chance that I've seen it all.

"Is there anything I can help you find today?" you asked, laying your best customer service voice on thickly. You busied yourself with unpacking your bags so you wouldn't have to look at the charming, crooked smile that settled on his mouth. "Was there anything that caught your eye before my hopeless self stumbled over here?"

"Ah," he pushed off the sideboard and tilted his head up so he could scratch along the length of his neck. "I, uh, was looking at your cookie jars, actually."

"Oh yeah?" You looked up at that and glanced over to the hutch in the corner that held an array of Pillsbury doughboys in various, charming poses. "Can I tell you a secret? I used to hate watching commercials with Poppin' Fresh. That claymation was frightening. I think he's pretty cute now, though."

You abandoned your unpacking and approached the hutch to try and figure which cookie jar he'd been intrigued by. You picked up a jar that had its lid askew and were about to ask if he wanted you to bring it up to the counter for him, when you lifted the lid and looked inside.

And found a rubber-banded stack of Metallica cassettes carefully nestled inside.

You felt your face get hot as you stared at the track listing and colorful cover art of Ride the Lightning. Coincidentally the same album that was on this newcomer's t-shirt.

"So," you huffed and slammed the lid on the cookie jar, careless of any damage it might cause. "You're Ed, huh?"

He chuckled behind you, "Eddie, actually. I prefer to go by Eddie. But yeah, that's me." You pivoted on your heel and glared at him; he faltered under your burning gaze. "Nice to, uh, meet you. Neighbor."

And with that, you let him have it.

You might've blacked out at some point during the absolute barrage of a verbal dressing down you gave him. How dare he not respect the etiquette of the market and stay within the confines of his allotted space, how dare he waste your time week after week as simply minded your own business and sold your trinkets, and how dare he ignore every single note that you left behind.

The fucker had the audacity to look amused with every word that fell from your lips.

In the end, you stood there, huffing and puffing as you caught your breath and felt several months of anger finally extinguish.

"You done there, killer?" Eddie asked with a smirk. "You feel better?"

"Yeah," you shouted one last time, then lowered your voice. "Yes I do."

"Alright, good." He nodded. "Gotta get it out sometimes, otherwise you might get an ulcer. Or develop alcoholism."

"Might be close to both, to be honest," you muttered.

"Shit, then I'm extra, extra sorry that I put you through all of that, sweetheart." He laid a hand over his heart. "This is my first rodeo selling in a place like this, I didn't realize that everyone was so...territorial."

"Yeah, well. Most of the time I'm not." Lies. You were a liar. "I think the thing that pissed me off more is that I kept leaving notes for you and you kept ignoring them and messing with my shit."

Eddie looked bashful all of a sudden. "Oh shit. See I thought you were just flirting with me."

Talk about a record-scratch moment; what...what had he just said?

"Flirting?" you asked.

"I mean, yeah, not to sound cocky either because I was definitely flirting right back at you. What do they call it in the movies? A...meet cute moment? I thought it was fun. You leave me a sarcastic, threatening note, and I leave you a little treasure hunt to solve. Like a...fucked up version of You've Got Mail."

"That's nothing like You've Got Mail," you pointed out.

There was a beat.

"I think this is a really good time to mention that I fell asleep halfway through You've Got Mail," he explained with a laugh. "Regardless, I read things wrong. That's on me. But I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."

He held his hand out to you and his brows shifted upwards and behind his dated bangs.

You worried at your bottom lip for a moment and tried to claw at the vestiges of your anger for a second, but this guy...he looked like such a kicked puppy...and you suppose that it was a cute way to flirt with someone you'd never met.

God, you really needed to work on that pushover thing.

"It's alright," you told him as you slid your hand into his and accepted his apology. "As long as you don't do it again."

"Cross my heart," he nodded enthusiastically.

You introduced yourself, formally, and offered your help in the future if he needed it. He introduced himself and told you that he would appreciate any pointers that you had to give.

"I'm pretty new to this whole...thrift thing," he shrugged. "I've had a bunch of this stuff in storage for a while. I used to move around a lot, you accumulate a lot of junk. And then my uncle...some of this stuff is his. Was his. He passed away last year. Finally decided I couldn't keep hoarding it all anymore. Turns out, I had a lot more shit than I thought I did."

"Story of my life," you laughed and offered your condolences. "It's hard, deciding what to keep and what to get rid of."

"Tell me about it."

"But, I do have one main lesson for you," you offered.

"Oh yeah?" he smirked. "Already? Just when I thought I couldn't fuck it up any more."

"It's an Antique Market," you told him. "Not a Thrift Store."

"There's a difference?" Eddie asked sarcastically, although a blush bloomed on his cheeks. "Guess the learning curve is much steeper than I thought."

"It's alright. You'll get it sooner or later." You smiled at him, trying to be as friendly and supportive as you could.

He stared at you for maybe a few seconds too long, then shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked forwards on his heels.

"Maybe you could explain it to me, in-depth?" he questioned. "Antiquing, thrifting, whatever."

"Of course," you agreed, but he cut you off before you could say anything else.

"Over lunch?" He asked with a nervous smile. "There's a great diner up the road. And I figure I owe you one for all the anguish I put you through anyway."

You stared at him in shock for a second, wondering how to respond. First there was the comment about the flirting...and now this. What if he was a creep? But he didn't seem like as much of a jackass as you thought he was...and he was cute.

Oh, what the hell.

"You know what? Why not? I'm a girl who loves a free patty melt," you winked at him bravely. "It's a date!"

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

Summary: Tyler Owens x fe!Reader -> Tyler and you have had a fight and it's up to the Wranglers to make sure you both finally make up and admit the truth to each other.

Disclaimer: best-friends to lovers, oblivious idiots, love confessions, angsty moments mentioned, reader has a sister who finally forces a confession from you, found family, happy ending, mention of a tornado and the damage it can cause. Not Proof Read.

The clock had just past six, the rest of the Wranglers sat at a table in the corner of the bar, watching you and Tyler. 

They weren’t even sure if you and Tyler knew they were there. Boone had been the first one to arrive and when he spotted the pair of you sitting at opposite ends on the same side of the bar, he knew he just had to wait. In the meantime, he’d text the others and told them to be stealthy when coming inside. 

“What are we meant to do?”

Javi shrugged at Kate’s question. “Maybe there’s nothing we can do.”

“We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“Kate’s right,” Dexter agreed. “They’ve been off with each other for weeks. It can’t continue much longer.”

“Do we even know what happened?” 

Everyone shook their heads. 

“I think they kissed.”

“Lily!”

Lily turned to the others. “What? I’m not saying it’s confirmed.”

They’d all had feelings about you and Tyler getting together for months. If she’d known something without telling the rest of the group., her gossip privileges would be terminated. 

“But, I mean, look at them.”

Tyler was sitting on one side, and you were on the other. Every now and then, he’d sneak a look over to you and just as he turned away, you’d look back. Both missing each other by seconds. Every once in a while, Tyler’s leg would shake and he’d go to stand up but then he’d shake his head and turn back on his stool and take a sip of his drink. 

The label on the bottle you were drinking from was all scratched off. The paint on your fingernails was in a similar state. Between the two bars of the stool, your feet wiggled side to side, speeding up and then slowing down. You were deep in thought, spiraling, looking at Tyler and calming down. Only to get nervous again. 

“They’ve been friends for so long…I’m saying they’ve kissed and they’ve both freaked out about it.”

“Why would they freak out, though? They’re practically twin flames, let alone just being soulmates.”

Kate started to side with Lily’s theory. “She’s got a point. Just because we can see that, it doesn’t mean they wouldn’t freak out about it.”

“Maybe they did more than just kiss.”

All the Wranglers looked at each other, confused and concerned before looking back. Had you both done more than just kiss? Is that what the awkwardness was about?

It had been a mistake. A fluke. A hideous trick of fate that Tyler had overheard the conversation between yourself and your sister. 

She’d surprised you at the motel you and the team had been staying at. And she’d come along for the ride; she wanted to know what her sister had been getting up to since she hadn’t come home in a few months. 

And it was in the space of three days that your sister had found out, and voiced, your biggest secret. 

You were in love with Tyler. 

She’d suspected it for a long time. From the minute you’d said his name, if she was being honest. At that point, you were just friends with him. But your sister could hear it. The way his name rolled off your tongue. There was something more than just being friends with him. 

Then there was the way you looked at your phone whenever his contact popped up. She knew you didn’t notice the change in yourself, but she certainly did. The light that came to your eyes. 

On the first day, she watched how you and Tyler moved around together. Your eyes tracking him, your unconscious of following him around and the pair of you completing tasks together. Sometimes, neither of you had to speak, already knowing what the other wanted from a single look. 

Your sister had to hand it to you, you were doing a good job at hiding it from people. The trained look in your eyes when you felt heat rise to your cheeks. You forced it back with all of your might. 

The second day was the ultimate confirmation. 

A tornado ripped through a small town and took the diner where Tyler had been picking food up from, out. His voice over the radio crackled away and the fear in your eyes was greater than your sister had ever seen. 

The shake in your voice, the subtle shake in your hands when his voice finally broke away. Yourself and Dexter were trying to track the storm whilst Dani and Javi were reading what data they could. Kate, Boone and Lily started to get things packed up and called emergency services on the way there. 

By the time Javi pulled the truck to a stop, you ran outside and surveyed the damage. Yourself and Kate instructed people on who to help and where to go, you turned to Kate and she nodded before you took off in the opposite direction. 

Your sister watched as you came to where the diner had previously stood. She’d passed it on her way into town to surprise you. It was a large pile of sheets and rubble. 

Then a voice cut through the dying wind. 

From behind the pile, people started emerging from the underground shelter. Tyler included. 

You’d taken off running in his direction and landed directly in his arms, pulling him down to hug him. Your sister saw the way you relaxed under his touch. You hadn’t been like that with…anyone. Usually it was an uncomfortable shrug to get them off. 

Back in the motel, she had tried to hold you still and help calm you down. But hives practically spawned across your skin when she tried. 

“Get off me.”

At the time, you’d shrugged her off you and grabbed what you had been reaching for; the maps. You’d sprawled one open and plotted the direction with Dani. 

Your sister watched as you and Tyler stopped hugging but didn’t step away from each other. Your hand pushed the hair from his forehead as you checked his eyes. Had he been hit? Concussed? Bleeding?

“I’m fine, Sweetheart. Just glad to see you.” 

As Tyler leaned down, you leaned up and hugged him tighter. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“We should help some of the others. Make sure no-one got caught up in the damage.”

You nodded and walked back with Tyler. 

That was when she knew. It was at that moment that she knew you were completely in love with Tyler. The thought of him getting hurt, the idea of him not coming up from that tornado shelter…that was one of the worst possible scenarios you could have thought of. 

Then the signs just seemed to be glaring all over. The way you looked at him, the way you moved with him, the way he was with you, the way his eyes were ultimately always on you. Whenever a joke was told, your eyes would immediately land on each other. The hand holding, the shoulder leaning, the stories, the pictures, the videos…all of it. 

You were completely in love with Tyler, but you weren’t going to do anything about it. Because when she asked you, you denied it completely. 

“We’re just friends.”

That was a tale as old as time. Just friends. Your feelings for Tyler had been something more than friendly for a long time. And, though you hadn’t noticed it, his feelings for you hadn’t been friendly, either, for a long time. 

The next day, your sister confronted you about the lie. 

And Tyler had heard practically everything. 

“What do you want me to tell him? We’re friends! It’s not like I can just go up to him and say, ‘hey, Ty. Just so you know, I’ve been head over heels in love with you for three years. What do you think about that?’?”

“Why not?”

“Why not?!” You sighed as you said your sister’s name. “I love him, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. But that doesn’t change how he feels about me or the fact that first and foremost, he’s my best friend.”

That was when there was a clang of a metal bucket outside the door and Tyler cursed himself under his breath. He would have turned around and left silently, maybe asked you more about it when you were alone and hoped you wouldn’t die of mortification before he could tell you what he did think. 

But that was too late. 

You and your sister emerged from the storage closet and found him outside with a bag of ice. 

“People leave all kinds of things lying about the place,” he huffed, trying his best to cover up the fact that he’d heard everything from your sister yelling; “You might not want to tell me, but you should tell him!”

He knew he shouldn’t have listened in but when you asked who and your sister mentioned his name…his feet remained glued to the concrete square just outside the door. 

Your sister had bolted not too long after looking at your reaction at seeing him. And when she walked away, he tried to keep his cover up. 

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Hear of what?”

There was just one problem about Tyler lying. You’d always seen right through his lie. 

“Oh, god-”

“Y/n. I-I didn’t mean to-”

You shook your head. “Don’t- Don’t worry about it. She’s…she’s just-”

“Did you want to-”

“No, no. It’s okay. Just…forget everything that’s just happened. It’ll be easier for everyone that way. And I promise, nobody knows. She doesn’t-” 

You could have killed your sister at that moment. 

“You know what? Yeah, just…just forget about it. You don’t have to worry about it. This is a me thing, not a you thing so…don’t worry about it. And don’t feel bad. We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then that’s just it. A couple lines got crossed but they’ll sort themselves out.”

You’d run away as quickly as you could without it looking completely deliberate. For the rest of the day, you avoided Tyler where you could. And once your sister left, it only got worse. You and Tyler were talking to each other but…it was strained. 

You and Tyler trying to talk to each other was worse than watching you both not talk to each other. 

Two weeks later, Boone had been asked by the motel owner if you and Tyler were okay since she heard raised voices and then a slam of a door. 

“That doesn’t sound like them?”

“I didn’t think so, either. But the yelling wasn’t like what I’ve heard before. It wasn’t violent, not one bit of it. It was just…desperate. Hurting. They like each other, don’t they?”

Boone nodded. 

“Well, you might want to do something so they know the other one is in love with them, too.”

After that, Boone had driven to the local bar to try and arrange a game plan with the rest of the Wranglers. Just one problem remained in his way. 

You and Tyler were at the same bar, not talking to each other, trying not to seem petty since neither of you had left.

“There’s gotta be something we can do.” Dani said after a few minutes. 

“I’ve got an idea.” Boone finally offered. “But it might be a long-shot.”

“Might as well try. What do we have to lose?”

Boone downed the last of his drink before taking a few quarters out of his pocket. “Grab your stuff. We can’t be here to see it.”

“Why not?”

“Part of the magic, my man. Come on.”

Boone made his way over to the jukebox before finding the song he was looking for. 

The bar had been mostly quiet. The sound of sodas being sprayed into glasses, food being cooked in the kitchen, the jukebox playing old tunes from old records that were from voices that hadn’t been heard live in almost two decades. 

Until the music cut itself off and over the calm atmosphere of the bar and his own stresses, the soft beginning of Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore washed over him. 

Tyler looked over at you before then looking at the jukebox where he found Boone stood. With a soft smile and a salute, Boone headed towards the door, shortly followed by the rest of the team. 

How long had they been sitting there? 

As the lyrics became all too real, you and Tyler looked at each other before quickly looking away. But then he made a decision. 

He needed to talk to you. You and him had shared disagreements before. This wasn’t a disagreement, but it sure felt like it. So he did what one of you always did when you had a fight. 

“Dance with me.”

“Tyler-”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not this time. You don’t get to run away this time. We had a fight, and we’re gonna resolve it. Same way we’ve done with every other one. Dance with me.”

In a moment's decision, you agreed and took his hand. For the first time in your life, it felt awkward taking his hand in yours. But it didn’t last long because Tyler kept a steady grip of your hand in his as he led you both to the dance floor. 

And for a while, it felt awkward. 

Dancing so close to him, and yet so far. It was like being back at middle school prom with your crush but since you’re barely a teenager, it just feels awkward as hell. 

Then Tyler’s hand came around your waist and pulled you closer. 

“Tyler-”

“I’m only doing this so I know you’re not gonna bolt when you hear what I have to say.”

“Seriously, Tyler. What my sister was saying- what I was saying. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“But I am.”

“Tyler. I’m telling you, you can completely forget about it. I won’t be hurt. I’m not hurt.”

“But I am.”

You looked at him. How the hell was he hurt? He wasn’t the one head over heels in love. 

The words could barely form on your lips. What the hell was he talking about?

“I’m hurt because you’re telling me I can completely forget about it. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to forget about it.”

You sighed. You didn’t want his pity. 

“Tyler…”

“No, just…hear me out. Please.”

You felt all your insides tense up as you agreed. 

“Believe me, I know listen’n is wrong. But ‘m glad I did. Y/n, you’re my best friend. You always have been and you always will be. But I want you to know that you’re not alone.”

“Alone? Tyler, I don’t-”

“I am in love with you. Y/n Y/l/n. And I have been for a long, long time.” 

It seemed like a relief for Tyler to say those words out loud. 

“You are the first person I want to talk to in the morning and your voice is the last thing I want to hear before I go to sleep. You are the person I want to be dancing with on every dance floor from here to Australia. You are the person I want by my side when speeding ninety miles an hour into a tornado. You’re also the person I want to go home with at the end of the day. I am so completely in love with you, Sweetheart.”

“If this is some kind of cruel joke-”

Tyler shook his head. “Sweetheart, you know when I’m lying. Trust me, I don’t plan on lying about how I feel about you.”

Your eyes scanned Tyler’s face. There was nothing but truth. 

Then Tyler smiled. “Guess the only thing left to ask is, do you still love me, too?”

You swallowed. For so many years, you’d buried your feelings for Tyler. But you finally nodded. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.”

As Tyler dipped his head forward with a glowing smile, you felt yourself relax entirely. And when his lips finally kissed yours…both of you seemed to forget what the hell you’d been fighting about anyway. 

[haikyu-mp4]

Inexperienced loverboy – Kita x reader wc 749 – f!reader, brother!Suna

Kita should have known Suna would find out at some point. The boy was observant, had sharp eyes and documented everything. So no, the picture Kita was sent of himself talking to you, rolling on his heels and blushing, should not have surprised him.

He stared at the picture, leaning on the door to his locker, heart beating loudly at the simple message from his underclassman under the photo: I see u, loverboy.

Suddenly, your voice cut through the silence. “Kita?”

Kita gasped loudly and clutched his pearls, as they say, not minding the way his phone slipped from his hands and landed on his foot before sliding on the floor. You were sneaky as a fox, just like your brother.

He squatted awkwardly to pick up the phone just as you did the same, making you lightly bump heads. Kita clutched the impact area and snatched up his phone, locking it so you wouldn’t see the incriminating photo.

“My apologies, y/n. My mind was elsewhere.”

You giggled, fixing your hair as you stood up straight. “That’s okay! Your phone didn’t break, did it?”

Kita waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Were you just passing by?”

And as if the horrors were not persistent enough, he looked over your shoulder and found Suna’s head peeking out from the end of the hallway, making his heart rate spike again. He didn’t even catch your answer, looking back down only to find your expectant gaze.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Your shoulders seemed to sink, a disappointed air enveloping you at his disinterest, which is what it looked like to you. Looking to the side, you cleared your throat and shook your head. “Nothing, I was just saying hi. See you around.”

And Kita watched hopelessly, whole body turning around so his eyes could follow you as you continued down the hallway but not uttering a single word that might salvage the situation.

Kita felt Suna creeping up on his side and sighed. “That’s cold, Mr Freeze.”

“Suna, would you prefer I distance myself from your sister?” he asked, happy that he still had some dignity when talking to his teammate.

“Nah,” the second year said with a noncommittal shrug. “Think she likes you back.”

Kita glanced at him, hoping he didn’t look too hopeful. He wanted to retain some sense of authority despite his obvious pining for a first-year. “That makes me glad.”

“But she’s still my little sister. I’ve got my eye on you.”

Kita watched as another Suna family member walked away from him down the hall, his heart beating the same irregular beat.

“Y/n!” you heard, followed by heavy steps as someone approached you. It would have been slightly frightening had you not recognised that soft voice.

“Kita,” you acknowledged. Your books were clutched to your chest and you tilted your head curiously. Despite his disinterest in you earlier, your crush on the volleyball captain insisted you give it a chance. “Don’t you have practice now?”

“I do, you’re right.” Kita took a moment to smile at how you knew their schedule by heart. “I just needed to ask you something first.”

You visibly perked up, blinking at him in question, hands clammy at the everlasting hope that he would give you a hint of interest. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Kita had to take a calming breath as he felt your analytical gaze on him, hypnotising and reminding him of your family name. “Would you let me- no.” His brows furrowed in confusion at his own hesitation. “If you want to- no, that’s worse.”

Biting the inside of your lip, your gaze sharpened even further. Kita had to look away, lest his heart leap from his chest. Asking someone out was not something he practised every day, and he felt very out of his element.

Cue your brother sneaking around the corner, holding up his phone, which flashed with huge red letters: Can I take you out on a date?

“Can I take you out on a date?” Kita read, looking back at you with his lips pursed. “Please.”

You jumped slightly in place, giggles preceding your answer. “Of course!”

Kita’s lungs finally gave way to new oxygen and he nodded with a relieved grin. “Yeah? Great! Okay, I need to head to practice, but tomorrow?”

“You got it!”

Suna sent him a thumbs up before jogging away from you two, shaking his head with a smirk.

You owe him now.

masterlist

requested by @dogdolor for my event, anything for you <3

[pedroscowgirl]

Dress

Professor!joel x college student fem!reader

Warnings SMUT! MINORS DNI! (Part 3 of my 'guilty as sin' series) MAIN masterlist Part. 1 ; Part 2

no!outbreak joel, big age gap(reader is 20 something), power imbalance (prof x student), joel is CHEATING on his wife, mentions of smoking & alcohol, spanking, teasing, oral job (m receiving), p in v (wrap it up), public sex, throat grabbing (idk), lmk if i forgot something!

Summary: Joel is getting a bit distant and you don't really know why till you run into him on your date with someone else and see him with his wife wc: 3.1k

A/n: Sorry the end is so foul but i couldn't leave it out. I hope you like this and the rest of the series :)) lmk if u want me to tag you in the next part. These pictures don't belong to me!

You and Professor Miller had been sneaking around for a while now. At first, it had been thrilling, the stolen moments, the risk, the way his hands would grip your hips like he couldn’t get enough. But something had shifted. Lately, he’d been distant, distracted. He didn’t reach for you as often, didn’t meet your eyes with that same burning intensity. And worst of all, he didn’t fuck you anymore.

You tried not to let it bother you, but the ache in your chest told you otherwise. You were used to being wanted, to being craved. So when a guy from your class—someone you’d talked to here and there—asked you out, you agreed without hesitation. If Joel wasn’t giving you attention, you’d find it elsewhere.

The evening of your date arrived, and you made sure you looked irresistible. A black dress that clung to your figure, lace teasing at the hem, makeup accentuating every sultry feature. You admired yourself in the mirror and smirked. If only Joel could see you now.

The restaurant was upscale, bathed in dim lighting that cast a sensual glow over everything. Your date led you inside, his hand warm on the small of your back. As you slipped off your jacket, revealing the way the dress hugged your body, you felt eyes on you.

And then you saw him.

Joel.

He was standing near the entrance, just taking off a woman’s jacket. His wife, you assumed. The woman he went home to at night. He smiled at her, and for the first time, the reality of her presence hit you like a wave crashing over jagged rocks. She wasn’t just some vague notion, some name spoken in hushed tones. She was real. And he looked at her with a softness you hadn’t seen in weeks.

Your stomach twisted. Before you could turn away, before you could gather yourself and push through the sudden tightness in your chest, his gaze snapped to you.

His smile faltered. His expression shifted from contentment to shock. His eyes darkened, flickering over your body, your dress, your date.

One second.

That’s all it was.

One second of locked eyes before your date grabbed your hand, pulling you toward your table. And just like that, the moment was over.

But the damage had already been done.

You felt his gaze on you even as you sat down, even as you tried to focus on your date’s words. The conversation felt distant, muffled, like you were underwater. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way Joel had looked at you—equal parts shock and something else. Something darker.

Your date leaned forward, smiling. “You look amazing tonight.”

You forced a smile, taking a sip of your wine. “Thank you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Joel sitting across the restaurant, his posture stiff, his jaw clenched. He wasn’t touching his wife as he had before. In fact, he barely seemed present at all. His fingers tapped idly against the table, his eyes flickering in your direction more often than they should have.

Your date continued talking, oblivious, but your mind was elsewhere. You wondered what Joel was thinking. If he was regretting his distance. If he was feeling the same burn in his chest that you were. You wanted to make him squirm.

Leaning forward, you rested your hand on your date’s arm, laughing at something he said. It was a calculated move, and when you risked another glance at Joel, you knew it had worked. His grip tightened around his glass, his knuckles white. His wife said something to him, but he barely reacted.

You smirked, turning back to your date, pretending nothing was wrong. But the tension in the air was thick, suffocating.

Minutes passed, and the glances between you and Joel only grew more frequent, more heated. You played with the stem of your wine glass, running your fingers over it slowly, deliberately. His eyes followed the movement. You shifted in your seat, crossing your legs in a way that made the hem of your dress ride up just a little higher. His jaw tensed.

Your date touched your hand lightly. “You okay?”

You blinked, pulling yourself back into the moment. “Yeah, of course.”

He smiled, taking a sip of his drink. “You just seem a little distracted.”

You hummed, glancing past him to where Joel sat. His wife was speaking, but his attention was elsewhere. You. His fingers were curled around his glass so tightly you thought it might shatter. You took another slow sip of wine, letting your tongue dart out to catch a stray drop on your lips.

Joel’s expression darkened. He shifted in his seat, exhaling slowly, deliberately, like he was trying to steady himself. You felt something warm rush through you at the realization—you still had that effect on him. Even now. Even here.

Then, as if making a decision, he pushed back his chair and stood up abruptly, murmuring something to his wife before walking out of the restaurant.

You hesitated for a moment, your pulse quickening. What was he doing? Without thinking too hard, you excused yourself from your date, waiting a few minutes so it wouldn’t look suspicious, then grabbed your jacket and stepped outside.

There he was, standing just beyond the glow of the restaurant’s entrance, his broad frame tense against the cool night air. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a loose black dress shirt that clung to his body in all the right ways. Your mouth watered.

“I never took you for a smoker,” you teased.

He stiffened, immediately recognizing your voice. Turning around slowly, his eyes met yours, filled with something unreadable. He sighed, exhaling smoke. “Ain’t one. Just do it when I’m stressed out.”

“First date?” you joked.

He chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “She’s my wife. It’s our anniversary today....”

That hit you in a way you weren’t expecting. Suddenly, his recent distance made perfect sense.

“And you?” His gaze flickered over your dress, his jaw tightening. “Goin’ for younger guys now?”

You smirked, stepping closer. “You know I could never do that, Joel. He’s sweet, but I like ‘em a little more... ripe.”

Your fingers brushed his bicep, and he tensed under your touch. “Darlin’... please, not here.”

You pouted. “Don’t give me that look.”

Your fingers drifted lower, toying with his belt, dangerously close to his crotch. His breath hitched.

“Don’t make me sad, daddy,” you purred, pressing just a little closer. “That college boy won’t treat me the way you do. And you wouldn’t want me to feel bad, would you?”

Your fingers fumbled with his belt, the leather slipping through your hands as you worked to undo the clasp. But before you could finish, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly. “Fuck, babygirl,” he hissed, his voice low and strained. “Not out here in the open like this.”

Before you could protest, he yanked you to the side of the restaurant, where no one could see you. The brick wall was cold against your back, but his body was a hot as he pressed into you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. You moaned into his mouth, your hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders, but he pulled back just enough to let you breathe.

You pushed him away slightly, your knees hitting the pavement as you crouched in front of him. Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants, tugging them down just enough to reveal the hard outline of his cock straining against his boxers. You bit your lip, glancing up at him through your lashes, and his hand came to rest on the top of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. He nodded, a silent permission, and you didn’t waste another second.

You pulled him free, his length springing against his stomach, and your mouth watered at the sight. You spit into your hand, slicking him up before leaning in to drag your tongue slowly along the tip.

His fingers tightened in your hair as you took him deeper, your tongue swirling around his length, teasing every sensitive spot you knew drove him wild. He groaned, low and guttural, his hips bucking slightly as he tried to keep himself still. “Fuck, babygirl,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, lips glistening, and smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He let out a shaky laugh, his hand brushing your cheek before sliding back into your hair. “Always gotta have the last word, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer, just leaned back in, taking him into your mouth again, this time slower, more deliberate. His breath hitched, and you felt his thighs tense under your hands. The taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue—it was intoxicating. You could feel him fighting to keep quiet, his teeth gritted as he tried to stifle the sounds threatening to escape.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easy.

You pulled back again, dragging your lips along his length, and spit on him, watching as your saliva mixed with the slickness already there. His hand tightened in your hair, and he let out a low growl. “Tease,” he muttered, but there was no real anger in his voice.

You smiled up at him, all innocence and mischief, before taking him into your mouth again, this time swallowing him whole. His hips jerked forward, and he cursed under his breath, his fingers tangling in your hair as he struggled to keep himself under control.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re too good at this.”

You hummed around him, the vibration drawing another groan from his lips. His grip on your hair tightened, and you could feel him getting closer, his breathing becoming more ragged, his hips moving with a little less restraint.

And then, just as he was about to tip over the edge, you pulled back, leaving him throbbing and desperate.

“Babygirl—” His voice was a warning, but you just smiled up at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“What’s the matter, Professor?” you teased, your voice dripping with mock innocence. “Can’t handle a little teasing?”

He let out a low growl, his eyes dark with need. “You’re playin’ with fire, darlin’.”

You shrugged, still smiling. “Maybe I like getting burned.”

Before you could say anything else, he grabbed your arm and pulled you up to your feet, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall. His body pressed against yours, hard and unyielding, and you could feel the heat of him through your clothes.

“You wanna play games?” he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. “Fine. But don’t come cryin’ to me when you can’t handle the consequences.”

He lifted your black dress to your waist, his breath hitching as his eyes raked over the sight of your black lace panties. “Fuck, babygirl,” he growled, his voice thick with desire and possessiveness. “You were really gonna let him have you? You naughty girl… You know you only belong to me.”

Before you could respond, his hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp. “N-no,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you tried to explain. “I just didn’t have any other underwear that would fit with this dress—”

He smacked you again, the sound echoing in the alley, but this time his hand lingered, rubbing the sting away in a way that was almost soothing. His other hand slid to the front of your panties, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric. “Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You’re so wet already. Fuck, babygirl, you’ve been thinkin’ about this all night, haven’t you?”

You didn’t answer, your face pressed against the cold brick wall, but your body betrayed you as his finger slipped beneath the lace, sliding into you with ease. You gasped, your hips jerking forward instinctively, and he chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s it,” he murmured, his finger moving in slow, deliberate strokes. “Let me hear you, darlin’.”

Your thighs trembled, your nails scraping against the rough surface of the wall as you tried to steady yourself. “J-Joel,” you managed to choke out, your voice weak. “We need to hurry… They’ll get suspicious.”

The reminder of the people waiting for you—his wife, your date—hung in the air like a storm cloud, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Then beg for it, baby. Let me hear you say it.”

You hesitated, your pride warring with the ache between your legs, but his finger curled inside you, hitting that spot that made your knees buckle. “Please,” you whimpered, your voice breaking. “Please, just… put your dick in me. I need it. Please.”

“Good girl,” he purred, his voice dripping with approval. In one swift motion, he ripped your panties off, the sound of tearing fabric making you yelp. His hand clamped over your mouth before the sound could escape, his grip firm but not painful.

“Hey!” you protested when he finally removed his hand, your voice a mix of anger and arousal. “Those were my favorites!”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thought you said you only wore ‘em ‘cause you didn’t have anything else?”

Before you could protest, he shoved into you, hard and unrelenting, the stretch making you cry out. His hand returned to your mouth, muffling your sounds as he set a brutal pace, his hips slamming against yours with enough force to make your thighs shake.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he drove into you again and again. “You feel so goddamn good, babygirl. Always so tight for me.”

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped, your release crashing over you like a wave. He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you, his groan muffled against your skin.

For a moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing, the alley silent except for the distant hum of the restaurant. Then he pulled out, turning you around to face him. His fingers dipped between your legs, collecting the mess of your combined release, and he held them up to your lips.

“Suck,” he commanded, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated for only a second before obeying, your tongue darting out to clean his fingers. The taste of him—of you—was intoxicating, and you licked your lips when you were done, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

But before you could say anything, his hand shot out, gripping your throat gently but firmly. He pulled you into a kiss that was all teeth and desperation, his tongue claiming your mouth as if he could erase the taste of anyone else who might’ve been there.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your legs weak and your mind hazy. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he whispered, “You’re mine, babygirl. Don’t you ever forget that.”

The cool night air did little to calm the heat still lingering on your skin as you adjusted your dress, the fabric clinging awkwardly without the support of your now-ruined panties. Joel straightened his shirt, his movements sharp and deliberate, though his breathing was still uneven. He glanced at you, his eyes dark and unreadable, before nodding toward the restaurant.

“Go first,” he muttered, his voice low. “I’ll follow in a minute.”

You hesitated, your legs still shaky, but you didn’t argue. Slipping back into the restaurant, you forced a smile as you approached your table. Your date looked up, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice warm but tinged with suspicion.

“Yeah,” you lied smoothly, sliding into your seat. “Just needed some air.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and launched back into the story he’d been telling before you excused yourself. You tried to focus, nodding along, but your attention kept drifting to the entrance.

A moment later, Joel walked in, his posture relaxed, his face a mask of calm. He made his way to his table, where his wife sat, her smile bright as she looked up at him.

“There you are,” she said, her voice light and teasing. “I was starting to think you’d abandoned me.”

Joel chuckled, leaning down to kiss her. Your stomach twisted as you watched his lips meet hers, the same lips that had just been on your skin, tasting you. Your mouth fell open slightly, the memory of his fingers, his tongue, his claim on you still fresh in your mind.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he said, his voice smooth as he sat down. “Just needed a smoke.”

His wife smiled, oblivious, and reached for her wine glass. You forced yourself to look away, but your mind was racing. The taste of him—of both of you—was still on his lips, and she had no idea. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of guilt and something darker, something you didn’t want to name.

Your date reached for your hand, his touch pulling you back to the present. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “You seem… distracted.”

You forced a smile, squeezing his hand. “I’m fine,” you said, though the words felt hollow. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, the conversation at your table fading into background noise as your thoughts spiraled. You could still feel him, his hands, his mouth, the way he’d claimed you in the alley. And now, sitting just a few tables away, he was playing the perfect husband, his wife none the wiser.

When the check finally came, you were relieved. Your date insisted on walking you to your car, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. As you stepped outside, the cool air hit you like a slap, and you took a deep breath, trying to clear your head.

“I had a great time,” your date said, his smile genuine as he leaned in to kiss you.

You hesitated for just a moment before letting him, the kiss soft and sweet—nothing like the bruising intensity of Joel’s. When he pulled back, you forced another smile.

“Me too,” you said, though the words felt like a lie.

As you drove home, your mind kept drifting back to the alley, to the way Joel had looked at you, to the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. 

Taglist for this series: @morganlolitta @elliesr1fle

[theprettynosferatu]

In Case of Thoughts, Break Mind

Oh no! Oh dear. It seems you've been having a lot of thoughts lately- certainly more than you should! And thoughts are icky! Thoughts make you sad and anxious and so unhappy! But fear not! Thoughts can happen to anyone, even the most addicted edgeslut, so don't be hard on yourself!

Lucky for you, I've made this handy dandy guide to help you turn those thoughts into nice thots!

In Case of Morning Thoughts

So you just woke up, opened your eyes, aaaaand... there they are. The day ahead flashing in your mind. All the things you have to do, or should do, or... boo! Such bad thoughts, sneaking up on you like that! But don't worry, you may not be able to turn them off, but you can direct them in more pleasant directions.

It's a new day! A new chance to be slutty! A brilliant opportunity to fall to new, delicious depths! So when those bad thoughts come, think of what you can wear to look like the sex object you are. Think of all the people that will look at you and imagine themselves using every part of you for their pleasure. Think of how you'll be able to objectify yourself and get soaked knowing you'll be seen as the dumb whore you are!

Now, you might want to rub that needy cunt. Do it! Starting with an edge will keep you dumb and horny for the rest of the day. Just don't cum, lest the thoughts come back!

In Case of Work Thoughts

Sometimes you'll have to engage with this whole "job" thingy. It sucks, I know! And they don't even let you rub unless you hide in the bathroom, which is so unfair! Plus, you don't want to be fired, so you will have to do *some* amount of thinking.

If that's the case, just remember: why do you work? To have money. Why do you need money? To have things you need and want. And that's what you need to keep in mind! You work to buy slutty clothes and toys. You work to have internet to break your brain with porn. You work to have your own place to take slutty pics and rub to what strangers online tell you to do.

You work to be able to please others.

So focus on that! Remember that work sucks, but it enables you to be a depraved cunt. Plus, you can always cocktease a bit a work, if you can get away with it.

You can also make a small mistake, just so you feel like a dumb whore that needs help doing anything right. Get someone to assist you doing something you know how to do. They will think you're such a stupid slut! And isn't that delightful?

And when everything else fails, you can always dip to the bathroom for a quick edge!

In Case of College Thoughts

Oh look at you, being all smart and stuff! I get it, I get it. Studying requieres you to think. Ugh. Fiiiine. However, remember there's a card you can always play:

You are smart. And I am well aware that being smart, as a rule, totally sucks. But the fact that you are smart does give you an extra edge (so to speak): Because you are smart the fact that you want to be a mindless, stupid cumdoll is just all the more pathetic!

A dumb toy, born dumb, can kinda fall into being a giggling slut. But you? You are working for it. You are degrading your own intelligence by using it to break yourself. Shit, you might be paying to be smart while edging those very smarts away!

So yes, university is hard. But don't you think a nice person online will get so much more pleasure knowing the cunt obeying like a bitch in heat has a PHD? That the drooling girl posing for nude after nude has a master's degree? That they got a college graduate to write "worthless holes" on her own tits?

So focus on that! The higher you climb, the further you have to fall.

And I do so enjoy watching dolls fall.

In Case of Night Thoughts

Ah, night. The time for the shadow self to come out and play. But sometimes, some unfortunate souls find themselves worrying about the next day, or replaying the events of the daytime in their heads, or letting the silence of the night get to them, stirring all manner of unwanted and unpleasant thoughts.

Well... stop it!

Night time is edging time.

So whatever is in that pathetic head of yours, push it aside, start watching the strongest porn you can find, go into deep binges of reading smut and looking at captions, look at all the other good girls rubbing like you, begging to be made into useful fucktoys.

I've been quite understanding about your day thinking. But at night you have no excuse. Blast hypno files into your brain. Repeat your mantras over and over and over. Degrade yourself for others. Obey and discover new kinks you could never imagine.

And above all, edge. Edge. Edge. Never cum. Edge everywhere you can. Get your juices all over your furniture. On your stuffed toys. On your clothes. Make everything smell of your desperation. Then edge more. Go deeper. Edge to your deepest, darkest fantasies. Become a spectacle to yourself and others. Type your fucked up babbling and post it. Edge to your own perversion.

Night time is doll time. Don't waste it!

We all have thoughts. But with diligence, you'll be able to steer yours into making yourself a better toy. That's all you need, after all!

And if you feel your thoughts overwhelming you, just say to yourself:

I'm just a toy. No one cares about my thoughts. Not even me.

It wouldn't even be a lie!

[cloudyluun]

Epilogue: Home. | single-parent!harry

Summary: Life with Harry was already perfect—but now, it’s getting even bigger. Between lazy mornings, chaotic family dinners, and one very unexpected but very wanted baby on the way, you finally have the life you never thought you’d get. Telling Theo and Lily is a disaster (obviously), Harry won’t stop touching your belly, and somehow, your home is even louder, messier, and more full of love than ever before.

And you wouldn’t change a single thing.

A/N: Listen. I know what I did. And I’d do it again. 😌

Was this entire epilogue an excuse to write Dad!Harry in his domestic, protective, lovesick era? Yes. Did I also write it because I got this request that literally said “This will make you feral and want Harry’s babies”? Also yes.

But honestly, was I wrong?

Harry cooking breakfast with Theo and Lily while Y/N waddles around pregnant and happy?Harry whispering sweet nothings to Y/N’s belly every night like a lovestruck fool?Harry completely wrecked over pregnant!Y/N, praising her like a goddess, and making sure she feels worshipped?

No. I was absolutely correct. And I stand by that.

Anyway, I hope you love this, I hope it makes you emotionally unstable, and I hope you walk away knowing one universal truth:

Harry Styles was made to be a husband and a dad.

Love you. Mean it.

Wordt Count: 3k

Warnings:

Sickeningly sweet domestic fluff (read at your own risk)

Pregnancy (planned but unexpected, lots of soft moments, protective!Harry in full force)

Theo and Lily being tiny menaces and taking full credit for everything

So much baby talk, you might want to start nesting yourself

Harry’s hands permanently attached to Y/N’s belly

Bonus smut: Pregnant sex, praise kink, filthy but loving, Harry being absolutely wrecked for his woman

Aftercare that will make you cry

The phrase "I love our baby so much" whispered like it’s the most sacred thing in the world

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You never thought this would be your life.

Not the lazy Sunday mornings tangled in Harry’s sheets, his body warm and solid beside you.

Not the quiet evenings where you cooked dinner together—where he stole bites of food off your plate and kissed your forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Not the mornings filled with coffee and pancakes and laughter, where Lily and Theo sat on the floor with their coloring books, bickering over which one of them was the better artist while Harry rolled his eyes fondly.

You never thought you’d get to have this.

But you did.

And God, you wanted to hold onto it forever.

--

It had been months since that night.

Months since you’d stopped running.

Since you had let him in.

And in that time, everything had changed.

Not in the loud, dramatic way you used to fear.

Not in the way that left you panicked and breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But in the quiet way. The sure way.

In the way that made Sunday morning grocery runs feel like an adventure, because Harry let the kids pick out ridiculous snacks while you pretended to scold him for sneaking extra things into the cart.

In the way that made movie nights feel like home, because Theo would fall asleep halfway through, and Lily would always insist on using Harry’s shoulder as a pillow, and you’d end up curled into his side—his arm draped around you, fingers tracing lazy circles against your skin.

In the way that made your chest ache, because this wasn’t temporary.

This wasn’t something fragile.

This was real.

--

You realized it fully one evening, standing in Harry’s kitchen, watching him without him realizing it.

He was helping Theo with his homework, brow furrowed in concentration as he leaned over the table, listening intently while Theo explained something about a science project.

And Lily—Lily was sitting beside him, doodling absentmindedly in the margins of her own worksheet, occasionally nudging Theo and smirking when he huffed in annoyance.

It was so simple.

So mundane.

And yet, something inside you broke wide open.

Because this wasn’t just Harry’s house anymore.

It wasn’t just his space.

It was yours, too.

A place where your daughter laughed freely. Where you left your books scattered on the nightstand. Where there was a drawer of your clothes in his dresser, your toothbrush beside his in the bathroom.

You had slipped into his life.

And the most shocking thing was that…

You fit.

Perfectly.

Completely.

Like you had been meant to be there all along.

--

You didn’t say anything that night.

Didn’t mention the realization, didn’t try to put it into words.

But Harry noticed.

Because he always did.

When the kids had finally gone to bed, when you had curled up beside him on the couch, his fingers tracing absentmindedly along your thigh—he looked at you.

And just like that, you knew.

He knew it, too.

This was it.

This was forever.

--

The first time Harry called you his girlfriend was at Theo’s soccer game.

It was casual, slipped into conversation without a second thought.

One of the other parents had asked about the two of you, smiling in that knowing way people did when they’d already assumed the answer.

And Harry—**without hesitation, without looking at you first to check if it was okay—**had just said, "Yeah, Y/N’s my girlfriend."

Like it was obvious. Like it was something he didn’t even have to think about.

And the best part?

It didn’t send you into a spiral.

Didn’t make you want to run.

Because, for once…

You weren’t afraid of being someone’s.

Not when it was him.

--

The first time you said it back, you didn’t even realize you had.

It was late.

You were all piled onto the couch, the kids asleep between you, the credits rolling on some animated movie none of you had really been paying attention to.

Harry’s hand was resting low on your back, his breathing even, the room quiet, still, peaceful.

And you—**without thinking, without hesitating—**had whispered, "Love you."

Not as a grand declaration.

Not as something huge or dramatic.

Just as a fact.

As something that had been true for longer than you’d been willing to admit.

And Harry—still half-asleep, still groggy and warm and impossibly perfect—had hummed, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of your head.

"Love you, too, sweetheart."

Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Like it was inevitable.

Like he had never once doubted it.

--

The first time you talked about forever, you were cooking dinner.

Harry had been chopping vegetables, Theo sitting on the counter beside him, chattering about his day.

And Lily—with zero warning, with the blunt force of a child who didn’t know how to sugarcoat things—had just said, "Mummy, are we ever gonna live here?"

You had frozen.

Harry had paused.

And Theo—completely oblivious to the weight of the moment—had just shrugged.

"Yeah, you basically already do."

And Harry—

Harry had just looked at you.

Not with pressure.

Not with expectation.

Just with certainty.

Like he knew the answer already.

Like he was just waiting for you to catch up.

--

So, you did.

Three months later, you packed up the apartment you had built your new life in.

And you moved in with him.

With Theo.

With your family.

And you didn’t second-guess it.

Didn’t overthink it.

Because for the first time in your life, forever didn’t feel like something that could fall apart.

It felt like something you could hold onto.

Something that had been waiting for you all along.

--

One night, long after the kids had gone to bed, long after the house had settled into comfortable silence, you curled into Harry’s side, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.

"Did you ever think we’d end up here?" you murmured, voice soft, sleepy.

Harry hummed, pulling you closer, fingers threading through your hair.

"Yeah," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You smiled against his skin. "Really?"

"Mmhm." His lips curved against your forehead. "Theo and Lily decided for us, remember?"

You laughed, shaking your head.

Harry pulled back, tilting your chin up until your eyes met his.

His expression softened.

"Best thing that ever happened to me," he whispered.

And you—

You kissed him.

Because there was no doubt in your mind anymore.

He was it.

Forever.

Your life was full.

It was good.

And soon, it was about to get even bigger.

--

You’d known for weeks.

The first sign had been exhaustion—more than usual. You’d chalked it up to late nights, to work, to trying to keep up with two chaos-wielding children and a ridiculously affectionate boyfriend who didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.

Then came the mood swings.

The tears over a burnt pancake.

The sudden, undeniable craving for oranges at midnight.

And finally, the truth had stared you in the face in the form of two pink lines.

Pregnant.

You had sat on the bathroom floor for a long time, staring at it, heart pounding, head spinning, stomach flipping.

Because you were happy.

Really, truly, unbelievably happy.

And that was the part that scared you the most.

Because happiness like this? It felt too good to last.

But when you finally told Harry—**voice shaking, heart in your throat, fingers twisting nervously in his t-shirt—**he had just smiled.

And then he had kissed you.

And then he had knelt in front of you, hands on your waist, pressing his forehead against your stomach.

And then, voice thick, barely a whisper:

“We’re having a baby?”

And when you had nodded—when the words had finally settled between you—he had wrapped his arms around you, held you like he never planned to let go, and laughed.

Like he couldn’t believe his luck.

Like you had just given him the world.

--

Telling Theo and Lily was another story.

Because they were menaces.

Because they would absolutely take credit for this.

And because you had no idea how they were going to react.

You and Harry had spent an entire week going back and forth. How do we tell them? When do we tell them? Should we make it fun? A surprise? A game?

But in the end, the kids decided for you.

Because of course they did.

--

You were sitting in the living room, curled into Harry’s side, your hand resting lightly over your stomach as Theo and Lily played a game on the floor.

And then, out of nowhere, Theo looked up and said—

"When are you guys having a baby?"

You choked on your tea.

Harry tensed beside you.

Lily scrunched up her nose. "Theo, you can’t just ask people that!"

Theo shrugged. "Why not? They’re obviously in love. People in love have babies."

Harry pressed his fist against his mouth, shoulders shaking.

You glared at him. Don’t you dare laugh.

Theo looked between the two of you, suspicious. "Wait a second…"

Lily gasped. "ARE YOU HAVING A BABY?"

Silence.

Harry turned to you, one brow raised, a smirk tugging at his lips. Your call, love.

You sighed, setting your tea down before glancing at the kids.

And then, softly:

"Yeah. We are."

For a second, nothing.

And then—

Absolute chaos.

Lily screamed.

Theo cheered.

Lily launched herself at you, hugging you so tightly you thought you might fall over. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I’M GONNA BE A BIG SISTER!"

Theo, meanwhile, turned to Harry and held out his fist.

"Nice one, Dad."

Harry barked out a laugh, bumping his fist against Theo’s. "Thanks, mate."

And then, just like that, the room was filled with laughter, excitement, a million questions.

When is the baby coming? Can we pick the name? Do we get to help? Are we sharing a room? Is it a boy or a girl? Can we have a puppy, too?

Harry pulled you against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"See?" he murmured. "Told you they’d take it well."

You smiled, watching as Theo and Lily started making a very dramatic list of possible baby names.

"Yeah," you whispered. "You were right."

And for once—**for the first time in forever—**you weren’t afraid of being happy.

Because this?

This was home.

And now, it was just getting a little bigger.

--

Life after that was loud.

It was chaotic.

It was perfect.

Mornings were a blur of sleepy kisses and coffee and Harry pressing a hand to your stomach every time he walked past you.

Afternoons were spent at doctor’s appointments, picking out baby clothes, letting Theo and Lily argue over whether they wanted a little brother or sister.

(Theo wanted a brother. Lily wanted both. You and Harry were mildly terrified.)

And nights��nights were yours.

Wrapped in Harry’s arms, his hands tracing over your belly, his voice a soft murmur against your skin.

"Can’t believe we’re doing this.""You’re so beautiful like this, love.""I’m gonna love this baby so much. And you. Always you."

And every single time, you felt it—the weight of what you had built. The life you had made. The family you had created.

You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

And neither would Harry.

Because ever since you told him you were pregnant, he had been soft with you—softer than ever before.

Not that he wasn’t always soft with you—but now?

Now, it was different.

Now, it was gentle hands on your stomach whenever he passed by. Now, it was offloading all the housework, refusing to let you lift a finger. Now, it was pulling you onto his lap at night, rubbing slow circles into your back until you melted against him.

It was sweet. Perfect, even.

But tonight?

Tonight, you needed more.

And you could tell, by the way Harry was looking at you—dark eyes flickering between your lips and the swell of your belly—that he needed more, too.

So when you shifted against him—**rolling your hips just slightly where you straddled his lap, teasing, testing—**he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Careful, love," he murmured, his fingers tightening on your thighs.

You tilted your head, running your hands up his chest. "Why?"

His jaw ticked. His grip tightened.

"You know why."

You smirked.

And then, deliberately—slowly—you rolled your hips again.

Harry groaned. "Fuck, Y/N—"

"You’ve been treating me like I’m fragile," you whispered, pressing your mouth to his jaw, kissing along his neck.

He exhaled sharply, his hands trembling against you. "Because you are."

You pulled back, meeting his gaze, your fingers tracing the edge of his t-shirt. "Harry. I’m pregnant. Not breakable."

He swallowed hard, eyes flickering down to where your belly pressed against him.

You could see the hesitation in his face. The battle between wanting you, needing you, and being afraid of hurting you.

So, you leaned in—pressing your lips to his, slow and deep, whispering against his mouth—

"Please, Harry."

And that?

That was all it took.

Because in the next breath, he had you on your back.

Mouths crashing together, hands desperate, his body pressing you into the mattress.

"You want me like this?" he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, over your collarbone. "Like this, baby?"

You whimpered. "Yes. Yes, please—"

He groaned against your skin, one hand sliding between your legs, teasing you through your underwear.

"Fuck, love," he rasped. "You’re soaking."

You gasped, arching into him, thighs trembling as his fingers stroked over you, teasing, torturing.

"Been neglecting you, haven’t I?" he muttered, his voice thick, wrecked.

You couldn’t even respond—not when he was slipping his fingers beneath the fabric, not when he was spreading you open, groaning when he felt how ready you were for him.

"Christ," he hissed, pressing a finger inside you, curling it just right.

You cried out, gripping his biceps, barely able to breathe.

"More," you begged. "Harry, more."

And fuck—

He gave it to you.

Another finger, stretching you, working you open, his mouth hot against your neck, his breathing heavy.

"Love having you like this," he murmured. "All soft and warm and—fuck—taking everything I give you."

You whined, grinding against his hand, so close, so close—

But before you could fall, before he could push you over the edge—

He pulled away.

You gasped, nearly sobbing. "Harry—"

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmured, kissing your belly before sitting back on his heels, shoving his sweats down, fisting himself in his hand.

Your mouth went dry.

Because—fuck—

You had felt him against you before, had been with him countless times, but somehow, seeing him like this—

Hard and desperate and completely wrecked for you—

You clenched around nothing, whimpering, needing him inside you, needing everything.

"Harry, please," you whispered.

And he gave you exactly what you asked for.

He pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust, groaning as he sank into you, his head falling forward, his hands bracing on either side of your head.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, his voice wrecked.

You gasped, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. "Harry—"

"Christ, love," he panted, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your lips. "You feel so fucking good."

And then, he moved.

Slow at first. Deep. Precise. Like he wanted you to feel every single inch of him.

And you—fuck, you were drowning in him.

The way he touched you, the way he filled you completely, the way he kept murmuring the sweetest, filthiest things into your skin—

"Love you like this." "Never been more beautiful." "Carrying my baby, taking my cock so fucking good—"

You were gone.

It didn’t take long.

Your body was already buzzing, already so close from the way he had touched you earlier.

So when he slipped a hand between you, rolling his fingers over your clit, whispering, "Come for me, sweetheart,"

You shattered.

Your entire body clenched around him, your orgasm crashing through you, pleasure rippling through every inch of your skin.

And Harry followed.

With one last deep thrust, one last ragged moan of your name, he spilled inside you, his body shuddering against yours, his forehead pressed to your shoulder.

For a while, neither of you moved.

Just heavy breathing, warm kisses, whispered I love yous.

And then—

Harry pulled back, gazing down at you, eyes flickering between your face and your stomach.

And softly, reverently, completely wrecked:

"I love you, and I love our baby so fucking much."

You exhaled, cupping his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

"I love you, too," you whispered.

And then, you kissed him.

Because this was it.

This was everything.

--

One morning, months later, you woke up to find Harry already gone from bed.

Frowning, you padded into the kitchen, only to find him standing there—Theo on one side, Lily on the other, all three of them squinting at a pan of very questionable-looking pancakes.

You raised a brow. "What is happening here?"

Harry turned, smirking. "Makin’ breakfast for my girl."

You snorted. "For me or for the baby?"

Lily gasped. "The baby wants pancakes!"

Theo nodded sagely. "Yeah. Mum’s gotta eat double now. She’s basically a superhero."

You bit back a smile, stepping closer as Harry handed you a plate, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Morning, love," he murmured.

You exhaled, looking around at them.

Your people.

Your home.

Your everything.

"Morning," you whispered.

And then—

You smiled.

Because your life?

It was exactly how it was supposed to be.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

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