#and the repeated 'it feels good girl it feels good'

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

ִ ࣪𖤐 . MADE TO FUCKIN’ TAKE IT ?!

ʚଓ.˚ warnings : multi-fandom men x fem!reader. nsfw/smut, size kink/difference, overstimulation, degradation & mocking, chocking (light breath control), hair pulling, man handling, breeding kink, multiple of orgasms, multiple of rounds, dirty talk & praise & cock warming? not proof read & pretty much a quick fic.

BIG MEN WHO… don’t give a damn how much smaller you are, how your body trembles under them, barely able to handle the sheer size of their cock stretching you open. They’ll press you down, keep you in place, making you take every inch until you’re crying out, gasping, nails clawing at their back or the sheets—whatever you can grab onto as they ruin you.

“You can take it,” he mutters, voice thick with desire, watching the way your tight pussy struggles around him. “Fuck—look at that, baby. So damn tiny around me.” His big hands hold your hips, keeping you still as he sinks deeper, making sure you feel every vein, every inch of him stuffing you full.

He doesn’t wait. He doesn’t go slow. The moment he’s inside, he’s fucking into you, rough and deep, your tits bouncing with every sharp thrust. A low groan rumbles from his chest when he sees them, his hands coming up to grab at them, squeezing, his thumbs brushing over your soft nipples. “So fucking perfect,” he breathes, rolling one between his fingers, smirking when you whimper.

He loves seeing you like this—helpless under him, your clit throbbing as his cock pounds into you, stretching you in ways no one else ever could. One of his hands slides down between your legs, two fingers rubbing fast, forcing you closer and closer to the edge. “Come on, sweetheart, let me feel you,” he grunts, leaning down, his weight pressing you into the mattress. “You’re gonna come all over my cock, aren’t you? Good fucking girl.”

Your walls tighten, body arching, your moans turning to desperate cries as the pleasure builds too fast, too strong. “Too much—” you gasp, but he just laughs, his pace never faltering.

“You can handle it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear before he bites down, making you whimper. “You were made for this. For me.”

His cock pushes even deeper, making you see stars. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, only groaning at the way your pussy clenches around him. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up,” he growls, snapping his hips harder, his grip on you almost bruising. “Gonna pump you so full of my cum, you’ll still be dripping with it tomorrow.”

Your mind is hazy, your body nothing but pleasure and overstimulation as his cock bullies your pussy into submission. His fingers don’t stop rubbing your clit, dragging you through another orgasm even as you cry out, thighs shaking.

“That’s it,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “Just like that, baby. You’re fucking perfect.”

And he’s not done. Not even close.

Your legs tremble as he keeps pounding into you, his cock stretching you past your limit, but he doesn’t slow down—not when you’re this wet, this tight, this perfect for him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, desperate to hold onto something, anything, but it only makes him grin, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he presses you further into the mattress.

“Y-You're too big,” you whimper, voice shaky, lips parted as you struggle to catch your breath. Your pussy clenches around him, your body betraying you, and his grin only widens.

“Too big?” he repeats, mocking, one hand gripping your thigh and pushing it up to fuck into you even deeper. “You keep saying that, but your pussy doesn’t wanna let me go.”

You let out a sob when he grinds his hips against yours, the head of his cock pressing against that sweet spot inside you over and over until you're trembling beneath him. Your tits bounce with every ruthless thrust, and he watches, mesmerized, his hands sliding up to cup them roughly, rolling your nipples between his fingers.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement and something darker. “Poor little thing, getting fucked too good?”

Your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed by the way his cock stretches your walls, the way his fingers keep circling your clit, sending shockwaves through your already overstimulated body. But then his hand is on your throat, not squeezing, just pressing enough to make you open your eyes and look at him.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he orders, his grip tightening just a little, making your breath hitch. His cock pulses inside you, thick and heavy, dragging along every inch of your sensitive walls as he picks up the pace. “I wanna see that pretty face when I ruin you.”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back a moan, but he sees it—sees the way your body shakes, the way your pussy clenches around him like it never wants to let go. His smirk grows.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his voice rough, his thrusts turning almost brutal. “Give it to me. Let me feel you come all over my cock.”

Your body obeys before your mind catches up, your back arching as pleasure crashes through you, your pussy squeezing him tight. A broken moan escapes your lips, and he curses under his breath, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release.

“Fuck—” his voice is strained, almost desperate, his cock throbbing inside you. He buries himself as deep as he can go, pushing past the tight clench of your walls, his pace growing erratic. “Gonna fill you up, baby. You want that?”

You nod frantically, your mind foggy with pleasure, your body still shaking. “Y-Yeah,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “Want it.”

That’s all it takes. He groans, low and guttural, his hips jerking as he spills inside you, filling you with thick ropes of his cum. He stays there for a moment, buried to the hilt, breathing heavy, before his thumb lazily circles your clit again, making you jolt.

“You thought I was done?” he chuckles, his cock still hard inside you. His grip on your thighs tightens as he pulls back, teasing you with slow, shallow thrusts. “Nah, sweetheart. I’m just getting started.”

Your whole body feels boneless, trembling under him, but he doesn’t let you rest—not when your pussy is still clenching around him, so warm, so tight, still desperate for more even if your mind hasn’t caught up yet.

“You’re shakin’, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers over your stomach, pressing down just enough to make you feel the way his cock is still buried inside you, so deep it almost hurts. “But look at that—your greedy little pussy’s still suckin’ me in.”

You whimper, trying to squirm away, but his big hands grab your hips, pinning you down with ease. He tsks, amusement thick in his voice. “Where d’you think you’re going, sweetheart?” His grip tightens, fingers pressing bruises into your soft skin. “You wanted my cock so bad—now you’re gonna take it.”

Your breath catches when he pulls back, teasing, letting only the thick head of his cock stretch you open before slamming all the way back in, knocking the air from your lungs. Your legs shake, another weak whimper slipping past your lips, but he only smirks, watching the way your tits bounce with every brutal thrust.

“Fuck—so fuckin’ tight,” he groans, reaching up to grab a handful of your hair, tugging your head back so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, hungry. “You feel that, baby? Feel how deep I am? Like I was made to fuck you like this.”

You can’t speak, can’t think—just moan as he rolls his hips, grinding deep, the fat head of his cock pressing against that sweet spot inside you over and over. His free hand moves to your throat, not squeezing, just pressing, keeping you right where he wants you.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he mutters, his voice dripping with amusement. “All fucked-out and dumb on my cock.” His grip on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make your head spin. “Bet you can’t even talk right now.”

He’s right. You can’t. Your lips part, a broken moan escaping, and he chuckles, smug. “That’s what I thought.”

Your pussy clenches around him, your clit throbbing, and he notices—of course he notices. His other hand slides between your legs, two fingers circling your swollen clit in tight, teasing motions.

“Yeah? You like when I talk to you like that, huh?” His voice is low, teasing, his fingers moving faster. “Such a desperate little thing.”

Your body is too sensitive, too overwhelmed, but you can’t stop yourself from rolling your hips up into his touch, chasing another high. He groans, watching you, his cock twitching inside you.

“Look at you—so fuckin’ needy for me,” he mutters, leaning down until his lips brush against your ear. “Gonna come again, aren’t you? So easy. So fuckin’ easy for me.”

Your mind blanks as the pleasure slams into you, your pussy squeezing him tight, making him curse under his breath. His hips snap against yours faster, rougher, his cock bullying your tight, wet walls as he chases his own release.

“Shit—gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he growls, his thrusts turning erratic, harder, deeper. “Gonna pump you so full of my cum, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

You cry out, barely able to handle the overstimulation, your body trembling beneath him as he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you. His grip on your throat loosens as he groans, his breath ragged, “Fuckin’ hell finally I bred this pussy good.”

𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓈 ：MYDEI , Jing Yuan, Blade?, Xavier, Mr Reca, phainon?, Aventurine, Dr. Ratio, TOJI, sylus?, Geto?, Nanami, NIKOLAI, SUKANAAAA, Wriothesley?, Calcharo + your favs! ❤︎︎

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[hanniebaeee]

Jisung's Baby Fever

Jisung x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive? MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Summary: You and Jisung are out at the beach, and witnessing a certain interaction has Jisung experiencing a wild case of baby fever.

It was a beautiful day. Sunny and warm - and Jisung had a free day in forever, so you two were at the beach. The sand was warm beneath your knees as you smoothed out the walls of the sandcastle.

A little moat encircled the castle, complete with a small bridge made from a piece of driftwood you found earlier.

"Masterpiece," you muttered to yourself as you leaned back to admire your work. 

Jisung sat on a beach towel, sunglasses perched low on his nose as he watched you, strumming his guitar. 

"Masterpiece? Sure," he teased, a smirk pulling at his lips.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "Don’t insult the castle you didn't lift a single finger to help build."

"I’m supervising, and providing the background score," he quipped, strumming the guitar harder. "You’re welcome."

He put his guitar aside with a grin and laid back, his arms folded under his head. 

Before you could fire back, a tiny voice interrupted, "Can I help?"

You looked down to see a little girl, no older than three, clutching a bright pink bucket and looking up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. Her mum waved from a beach towel nearby, giving you an apologetic look. 

"Of course you can!" you said warmly, giving her mum a thumbs up, and shifting over to make room. "Here, you can be in charge of the turrets."

The girl giggled happily and announced that her name is Mina, plopping down beside you and immediately getting to work. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and soon the two of you were modifying the castle. You helped her scoop wet sand into her bucket, and look for shells and other things for decoration. Mina squealed in joy as you showed her some sea glass and you both got back to your castle, giggling. 

Jisung propped himself on one elbow as he watched the scene unfold. Ok. Wow. What's going on?

His heart twisted in ways he hadn’t expected. The sight of you laughing with the little girl, doing something as simple as building a sandcastle, hit him hard. He watched in silence for a good fifteen minutes.

“Look at her, Sungie!” You said, with a little laugh, watching the little one put shells on the castle.

"She’s adorable," Jisung said, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. "But, uh... I think it’s time to go home."

"Already? We just got here." You frowned.

He ran a hand through his hair, visibly flustered.

"Yeah, well, I’m... feeling some things. And it’s kinda a lot." He said, grabbing his guitar because he needed to ground himself. 

“Feeling things? What things?” You asked, eyebrows raised. 

"It means I’m looking at you playing mom over here, and it’s doing things to me," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "Like, maybe-we-should-make-one-of-our-own kind of things."

Your eyes went wide as you said, "I’m sorry. What?!"

"I’m just saying. You’re over here building castles with babies, and now I’m thinking about babies. Specifically ours." Jisung shrugged, trying and failing to appear nonchalant.

"Han Jisung!" you hissed, glancing at the Mina, who was too engrossed in her work to notice. "You can’t just say stuff like that!"

"Why not? You’re the one who started this," he teased, leaning in closer. "This is all your fault."

You huffed, turning back to the castle to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "I’m not abandoning my new bestie just because you’re having an existential crisis."

"Existential crisis?" he repeated, feigning offense. "I’ll have you know this is a perfectly rational reaction to seeing my insanely hot wife being ridiculously good with kids."

"Goodbye, Jisung," you said flatly, refusing to look at him.

"Fine," he said, standing and brushing off the sand. "If you won’t come willingly..."

Jisung looked over at the girl's mum and said, “Your little girl is amazing, she's such a joy!”

And the lady smiled, thanking him. And he said, “We're kinda heading back, so -”

You glared at him as he made small talk with Mina's mum as she came over, and then she thanked you for playing with her daughter. 

You gave Mina a little high five before helping Jisung gather your things with a stony expression. He could see that you were miffed as you followed him really slow. When you two were a safe distance away from the family, Jisung struck.

You barely had time to process what he was doing before he scooped you up in his arms.

"Jisung!" you squealed, wriggling as he started walking toward the car. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he said, grinning. "You're slacking."

“Jisung, I swear to God!”

"You’re gonna thank me later, babe. Promise." Jisung chuckled, tightening his hold on you.

"I don't even know what to do with you," you grumbled, though you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips.

"You love it," he shot back, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "Now let’s go. We’ve got a baby to plan."

“Oh my God! You can't just-”

He interrupted you by popping open the back door loudly and set you down gently on the seat.

"Okay, thanks for the ride. You can go now," you said, crossing your arms in mock indignation.

But instead of shutting the door and heading to the driver’s seat, Jisung climbed in after you, closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing?" You gave him a suspicious look. 

"I think you need some convincing," he said matter-of-factly, settling in beside you.

"Convincing me of what?”

"That we need to fast-track this whole ‘baby’ thing. Like, today."

"Have you lost your mind, Ji?" You asked with a soft laugh. 

"Probably," he admitted, leaning in closer with a grin. "But can you blame me? You were out there looking all cute and mom-like, and now my brain won’t shut up about how amazing you’d look holding our baby. You’re doing this to me, babe. This is your fault."

"Oh really?" you asked, trying to keep a straight face as he edged even closer.

"Listen," he said, his voice dipping lower as his gaze locked onto yours. "I’m serious. I was sitting there, minding my own business, and then suddenly, bam - baby fever. And it’s bad, babe. Real bad."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You are ridiculous."

"You should see yourself through my eyes right now. You’re beautiful, you’re amazing with kids, and you’re mine. And I’m just sitting here wondering how I got this lucky and how fast I can get you to come home with me."

His words made your heart do a funny little flip, even as you tried to keep things light.

"Jisung, you can’t just throw around words like that and expect me to go with it."

"Ahh babe," he murmured, leaning in until his nose was almost brushing yours. "I just need you to kiss me and admit that I’m right."

"Right about what?" you asked, your voice a teasing whisper.

"Right about us," he said softly, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. "Right about how we’d be amazing parents. Right about how we’re meant to be going home and working on the baby making right now."

You didn’t have a clever comeback for that. Instead, your heart thudded loudly in your chest as he closed the small gap between you, his lips brushing against yours.

The kiss was soft at first, almost tentative, but it quickly deepened as his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His other hand rested on your waist, anchoring you to him.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, a triumphant smirk tugging at his lips.

"So," he said, his voice low and teasing. "Are you convinced yet? Or do I need to keep going?"

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide your smile. "You’re impossible."

"I think you mean irresistible," he countered, leaning in for another kiss. "Now, how about we head home and make some magic happen?"

You laughed, pushing him away playfully. "You’re lucky I love you, Han Jisung. But fine. Let’s go."

"That’s my girl," he said, pulling you close one last time before climbing out of the back seat to let you take the wheel.

And as you settled in for the ride, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, he was right.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120

[reminiscingtonight]

Guilty

Lia Wälti x Russo!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Tis the season for sequels. Featuring a lot of Kyra and Alessia and not so much of Lia

[The Thing About Families Masterlist]

You should have known better than to trust her. 

There’s a reason Steph’s always more than happy to drop Kyra off on your doorstep whenever camp’s over.

There’s a reason Mini looks like she’s gained five years every time the younger girl has been granted privileges to “babysit” her two kids. 

You have a million reasons to not trust her yet you did. 

Why did you trust Kyra with the ring?

Your knuckles are nearly white as you drag the young girl into a nearby unoccupied conference room. Kyra’s looking apologetically guilty, but a delirious haze is starting to take over you. It’s a mixture of horror and disbelief, but at the bottom of it all, you feel beyond stupid.

“What do you mean you lost it?!”

Kyra looks like she’s moments away from crying, but you can’t find it in yourself to be compassionate. You can console her later. Right now you need to get to the bottom of this and try to salvage your relationship with your girlfriend first. 

“I swear it was stashed at the bottom of my drawer but it just wasn’t there when I looked this morning.”

“Well where did you put it?”

“I never moved it! Someone must have taken it.”

You pinch your eyes shut, praying to whatever soccer gods that are above that this was just a cruel joke. This wasn’t really happening and you weren’t about to postpone all the plans you’ve spent months working on. “Kyra, I am begging you not to do this. What am I supposed to do? The dinner’s been booked! The restaurant knows I’m proposing!”

“We can get you a new one! I’ll front it, I swear.”

Forget Kyra crying, you’re going to cry. 

“Unless you’re willing to shell out five grand in the next few hours, I don’t think ‘buying me a new’ one will work.”

The young Australian’s eyes bulge out at the sound of how much you spent on Lia’s ring. 

It’s not a well kept secret that you were going to propose. You and Lia have been together for years now, married in every way except for the official one. Wedding plans have already been discussed, from venues to food to the invitation list. The last thing you actually had to do was the actual proposing and getting married parts.

Though with the ways things are going, you’re not sure you’re going to get married anytime soon. 

There’s a knock on the door but you ignore it, pacing back and forth as your mind races. There’s not really much you can do at this point. The place you got Lia’s ring custom made at is already closed at this time of day, and your girlfriend deserves something better than a last minute generic engagement ring. 

A flash of blonde enters your peripheral just as you make your decision.

“Okay. I think I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh I’ve been looking for you guys--”

“Now’s not a good time, Less,” you wave your sister off, not even bothering to pay her any attention. “Okay Kyra, listen closely because I won’t repeat myself.”

The younger girl nods, determination painted all over her features. 

“I’ll cancel the reservations. That’ll buy me a couple days.”

“Guys--”

“Less. Not a good time,” You repeat, shuffling to turn your back to her to ensure Alessia can’t interrupt again. “The jeweler still has the plans I sent him. I can probably get Gio and Luca to lend me some money, but you have to find where you stashed that ring, Kyra. It wasn’t cheap.”

“About the ring--”

“Not now Alessia!” This time your and Kyra’s voices blend together, neither of you willing to give Alessia a minute of your days. 

She lets out an offended huff and you have half a mind to just strangle her right here and now, your mother’s feelings be damned. 

Gritting your teeth you turn around, not really happy to have to find out what your sister wants. She has free reign to bother you at any minute of any day but why was she so insistent on doing so right now? “What could possibly be so important, you impatient piece of--”

You cut off suddenly, eyes doubling in size when you look down at her hands. 

There’s a velvet box clutched between her perfectly manicured nails, the tiny thing sitting there like it’s mocking you for losing your temper earlier. 

“That’s my--”

“The ring! But-- but--”

“Where’d you find it?”

“Oh god, Lessi I could kiss you, you just saved my ass--” Kyra breaks off, something clicking in her brain. “Wait, where did you find it?”

There’s a slight pause as you wait for Alessia’s answer. 

“Err… so funny story.” She blows out a breath of air, trying her best to look nonchalant. “I might have been-- actually Kyra hid…” Alessia fidgets, not liking the crease that was growing deeper and deeper between your brows. “IwantedtoprankKyraaftersheprankedmesoItooktheringthelasttimeIvisited.”

She slams her mouth shut the second the words are uttered, but no one says a word. 

An uncomfortable tension settles into the room and Alessia does her best not to wilt to the ground. 

You stare at her.

Kyra stares at her.

Alessia stares at a spot past your faces, nervously shuffling under the weight of your gazes.

There’s no mistaking icy stare or the clenched jaw that proved you caught every word of her fastball confession. 

“You… What?” There’s an edge to your voice, a tone Alessia rarely was at the end of growing up, but one that she recognizes all the same. The order there is clear, but Alessia’s not so sure she wants to repeat herself out of self preservation.

She shrinks, suddenly wishing she wasn’t so tall. “Um. Well. So Kyra hid my earrings the other day, and I, uh, I thought hiding this would be a funny way to prank her back?” Alessia cringes, not liking the way this all sounds now that she’s saying it out loud. “But judging by the looks on your faces, I’m going to say otherwise.”

Your nose flares but that’s the only response she’s given. 

Kyra looks grumpy, probably the result of taking your misplaced anger from earlier. 

You hold out your hand.

No words are exchanged but Alessia is quick to drop the box into your hand. 

Just as quick as she darts forward to do so, she jumps back, shoving her now empty hands into her pockets. 

“See, no hurt no foul, right?”

Crickets. 

That’s all Alessia hears as she nervously chuckles. 

Neither you nor Kyra have moved, faces giving nothing away. 

At least not until you call the Australian’s name calmly, eyes never leaving your sister’s.

Alessia watches as the two of you slowly peel away from each other. Her eyes keep darting between the two of you, feeling more and more like prey that’s being stalked as the seconds tick by. “Guys, c’mon–”

“Remember how I told you to play nice with my only sister?”

Kyra’s frowning. It’s probably supposed to come off frightening but she looks too much like a kicked dog for it to really do too much.

But the look on your face… yeah, that was intimidating enough for the two of you.

“Forget everything I’ve ever said. I don’t have a sister.”

Alessia gulps.

“Get her.”

She bolts.

[cloudyluun]

Press play (p2) | boyfriend!harry

Summary: The first tape wasn’t enough. Harry’s obsessed. One camera? Not enough angles. One location? Not enough variety. One night? Not enough time. This time, he films her in every room, in every position, with every toy he owns—and makes sure she begs for more. Because this isn’t just about recording anymore. This is about pushing her to her absolute limit while the cameras catch every second. 

A/N: So… if the first fic was a little spicy, this one is hellfire levels of unholy. 🫠 Writing this felt like a crime, but a crime I would absolutely commit again. 🔥 Hope you’re hydrated and emotionally stable because this is a lot—and yes, before you ask, there will be a part tree. 😈

Also, if anyone asks why my search history includes “best high-sensitivity microphones for ASMR,” no, you don’t.

Word Count: 7,8k

Warnings: 

Heavy BDSM elements – Bondage, impact play, restraints, gagging, plugs, edging, overstimulation… Basically, if it belongs in a locked drawer, it’s in here.

Spit, deep-throating, gagging, face-fucking – Hydration is important, folks.

Filming/recording during sex (consensual) – Harry’s got a passion for cinematography. Scorsese could never.

Public teasing & humiliation – Sex shop, car ride, open windows… Someone revoke this man’s driver’s license and curtain privileges.

Rough sex – Choking, spanking, forced orgasms… the usual scheduled programming.

Dirty talk, degradation, praise kink – A poetic balance of “good girl” and “filthy little slut.”

Multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breath play – Hope you weren’t planning on walking after this.

Aftercare – Because Harry’s only a menace 98% of the time. The other 2%? He’s feeding you water and telling you how proud he is.

(if i missed any, dm me please!)

[part 1]

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You can feel his eyes on you again.

It’s been happening for days—catching him watching you, smirking like he knows something you don’t. He isn’t even subtle about it. He’ll stretch out on the couch, legs spread wide, fingers lazily tapping against his thigh as the screen flickers, bathing his face in dim light. He watches you on repeat. Watches the way you fell apart for him the first time. The way you begged, the way you shook. He knows every second by heart, every moan, every filthy plea.

And the worst part? You don’t even blame him.

Because the few times you’ve dared to look—just a peek—you were just as wrecked as he claimed. Eyes glassy, mouth parted, body trembling under his touch. A perfect mess. His.

So when you catch him again, he doesn’t look guilty. Not even a little.

“Can’t help it, angel.” His voice is rough, thick with something dark. “You look so fucking good coming apart for me.”

Heat licks up your spine, your thighs pressing together on instinct. But he notices. Of course he notices.

He cocks his head, dragging his gaze over you, slow and heavy. Then, as if deciding something, he stands and holds out his hand. “Come on.”

You blink. “What?”

“We’re going out.”

He doesn’t give you a choice.

--

The electronics store is bright, all sleek displays and humming screens. It smells faintly of new plastic, and if you weren’t so hyper-aware of the man next to you—the way his hand rests low on your back, the way his thumb strokes slow circles against your hip—you might have actually paid attention to the endless rows of cameras.

But Harry is focused.

Not just on you—though you can feel the weight of his gaze every time you shift—but on the equipment. He moves with purpose, eyes scanning through specs, occasionally nodding like he’s mentally checking things off a list you aren’t privy to.

You watch as he picks up a high-end camera, testing the weight in his palm.

“This one?” you ask.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, tilting it slightly, examining the lens. “Good quality, but not enough angles.”

The words shouldn’t make your stomach flip.

You know what he’s planning. Know this isn’t just about upgrading. It’s about more. More angles, more footage, more ways to capture exactly how wrecked he can make you.

Your breath catches as he moves onto something else—a small, discreet device.

“Is that—”

“A hidden camera?” He smirks. “Yeah. Could put it anywhere. Get a nice little collection going.”

You swallow hard.

He keeps going. A high-sensitivity microphone. A ring light. A sleek little tripod. He handles them with the kind of ease that makes your knees weak, like he’s already imagining exactly where he’ll set them up.

The sales clerk approaches then, offering a polite, professional smile.

“Can I help you with anything?”

You barely hear the question before Harry shifts behind you, his body pressing up against yours, his lips grazing your ear. His voice is low, for you and only you.

“Could fuck you right here.”

Your entire body goes rigid.

“Harry—”

“Bend you over the counter,” he continues, voice thick with amusement. His fingers ghost up your thigh, barely there, but your skin burns all the same. “Let the security cameras catch everything.”

Your breath stutters, a choked gasp slipping out before you can stop it.

The sales clerk clears his throat. “Uh… I can walk you through some of the settings if you’d like?”

You try to nod, try to play it off, but Harry doesn’t move. He stays pressed against you as the clerk launches into a dry explanation, and it takes everything in you to stand still. To keep your composure while Harry’s fingers tease the hem of your skirt, inching higher, higher—

You nearly jump when the touch disappears.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry says smoothly, stepping back like nothing just happened. “We’ll take all of these.”

Your head spins.

All of them.

Three cameras, a microphone, a ring light. Enough to film you in every angle he wants, from every perspective, with every sound recorded crystal clear.

You don’t even realize you’re shaking until Harry’s fingers brush over your wrist, grounding you.

“One more stop, angel.” His voice is warm, teasing.

Your stomach twists.

You already know where he’s taking you.

--

The sex shop is discreet, tucked between two high-end boutiques. The windows are dark, the sign subtle, but the moment you step inside, you feel the shift—the heavy hush, the intimate displays, the slow thrum of something low and pulsing over the speakers.

Harry walks in like he’s been here before. Like he owns the place.

And in a way, he does.

You can feel it in the way he moves, the way his fingers trail along the shelves, occasionally plucking something up, rolling it between his fingers, considering. You barely have time to register what he’s holding before he makes a quiet noise of approval and adds it to the growing collection in his arms.

Nipple clamps. A flogger. Silk restraints. A plug set.

Your face burns as he turns to you, offering one of the smaller plugs in his palm.

“Go to the bathroom.”

You freeze.

His eyes don’t waver.

“Put them in.” His voice is calm, steady. “Now.”

You hesitate for half a second—just long enough to see the flicker of warning cross his features.

And then you obey.

The moment the door shuts behind you, your hands shake as you follow his command. The plug is smooth, easy, but it’s the panties that make you squirm—just the thought of them in public, the knowledge that Harry could turn them on at any moment.

When you return, he’s waiting.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches. Then, after a long pause—long enough for you to start fidgeting under his stare—he steps closer, brushing his lips over your temple.

“Good girl.”

The praise makes your knees nearly buckle.

He smirks. “Let’s go.”

--

The drive home is torture.

You should have known it would be.

Because the second Harry starts the car, his fingers flick something on his phone, and suddenly—

“Oh,” you gasp, your back arching slightly.

The vibrations are low, teasing, barely enough to do anything but make you ache.

Harry hums, casual. “You’re already soaked, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn, but you nod, breathless.

He turns the setting up. Just a little. Just enough to make you squirm.

Red light.

The car slows.

His hand drifts over your thigh.

“You can hold it, can’t you?”

You bite your lip, nodding again, your thighs pressing together.

Green light.

The vibrations ease slightly, but the pattern shifts, unpredictable.

It continues like this—slow torture, relentless teasing, each stoplight an opportunity for him to push you closer and closer to the edge.

By the time you pull into the garage, you’re shaking. Your fingers dig into the seat, your breathing uneven.

Harry watches, amused.

Then, just as he parks, he leans in, his voice silk-smooth against your ear.

“Come.”

Your breath stutters.

“Now,” he murmurs. “And don’t make a sound.”

The vibrations increase, sudden and sharp, and it takes everything in you not to cry out. Your entire body trembles as the orgasm washes over you, your fingers clutching the seat, your lips parted in a silent whimper.

Harry watches it all.

When it finally fades, your body slumping back against the leather, he exhales, slow and satisfied.

“That’s one, angel.”

His fingers trace your thigh, teasing.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done.”

His voice is warm, teasing, dripping with amusement, but there’s something darker beneath it. Something that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter. That look in his eyes—the one that tells you he’s not even close to satisfied.

Your skin is still buzzing, oversensitive from what he did to you in the car, but he doesn’t care.

He’s already moving.

He steps out, rounding the car without urgency, and when he opens your door, he doesn’t say a word—just waits. Expecting.

You step out on shaky legs.

The air outside is thick and warm, but the heat that lingers between your thighs is worse. You can still feel the echoes of pleasure from the first orgasm he ripped out of you, still feel the way your body clenched around nothing when he left you empty.

He knows it, too.

He watches you carefully, fingers ghosting over your hip as he leads you inside, through the dimly lit hallway, past the living room where you’ve already let him ruin you so many times before.

The moment the bedroom door shuts behind you, the shift is immediate.

Harry rolls his shoulders, tilting his head slightly, studying you.

Assessing.

Your pulse spikes.

The room is different.

You notice it instantly—the small but deliberate changes.

The cameras.

One on a tripod at the foot of the bed. Another placed carefully on the nightstand, positioned just right. The third—mounted directly above the mattress. Overhead shots.

Your stomach twists.

Then your eyes catch on the microphone.

It’s clipped beside the camera on the nightstand, small but powerful, capable of picking up every gasp, every moan, every tiny, desperate sound you make for him.

Your thighs squeeze together.

And on the sheets?

Silk.

Black silk ties, draped neatly across the mattress. Waiting.

Your breath catches.

He planned this.

Your skin prickles as you turn back toward him, but he’s already watching you, already smirking like he can hear the way your thoughts are racing.

His hand lifts, his fingers brushing along your jaw.

“Strip.”

One word.

No room for hesitation.

A slow, creeping shiver spreads down your spine, and your hands move before you can even think.

You reach for the hem of your dress, slipping it over your head in one slow motion. The fabric pools at your feet, leaving you bare—except for the lace panties he forced you into earlier and the plug still nestled between your cheeks.

Harry’s gaze darkens.

His tongue drags along his bottom lip, and he exhales slow, controlled, fingers flexing at his sides.

“On the bed.”

You shudder.

It’s not just a command—it’s a promise.

Your heart pounds as you move toward the mattress, sinking onto the soft sheets. The moment you do, Harry follows, climbing onto the bed with deliberate slowness, his toned body flexing as he hovers over you.

The silk restraints are still lying there. Waiting.

He picks one up, twirling it lazily between his fingers before tilting his head, green eyes locking onto yours.

“Let me tie you up, angel.”

It’s not a question.

It’s a test.

You swallow hard, feeling the last shred of control slipping away, and nod.

But he doesn’t move.

His smirk deepens.

“Say it.”

Your breath stutters. The words feel thick in your throat, but when they finally come, they’re barely more than a whisper.

“Tie me up, Harry.”

Something flickers in his eyes. A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at his lips, and then—

He moves.

Swift. Effortless. Expert.

He grabs your wrist, looping the silk around it, securing it to the headboard with a practiced ease that makes your stomach tighten. Then the other wrist—soft but firm, tight but not painful. You test the restraints. No give.

Your breathing is already uneven.

He shifts down, grabbing your ankle next.

You jerk instinctively, but it’s useless.

Harry likes you like this—helpless beneath him, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.

By the time he secures your other ankle, your body is already trembling. Spread wide. Exposed. Completely at his mercy.

You test the restraints again.

You can’t move.

The realization sends a sharp, dizzying pulse of heat straight between your legs.

Harry notices.

He always does.

He hums, pleased, dragging his knuckles along your inner thigh. His touch is featherlight, teasing, barely even there.

And then—

He reaches into his pocket.

Your breath hitches.

The remote.

Your stomach drops.

The plug.

He clicks it on.

The vibration is instant.

Low at first—deep, pulsing, sending sharp, concentrated pleasure straight through your core. Right where you need it most.

A helpless whimper rips from your throat. Your hips jerk automatically, body arching against the restraints, but there’s nowhere to go, no way to escape the relentless stimulation.

Harry watches every second of it.

The way your thighs tremble, the way your lips part in desperate little gasps, the way your stomach tightens.

And then—

He turns on the camera.

You freeze.

The red light blinks.

Recording.

Your stomach clenches, heat flooding your skin, because this moment—your wrists tied, your legs spread, your body already writhing from the toy still pulsing inside you—is being captured.

For him.

Forever.

Harry tilts his head, smirking.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dragging his fingertips along your trembling thigh. His voice is low, smooth, hypnotic. “So fucking pretty like this.”

You let out a broken whimper.

His hand slides higher, teasing along the waistband of your panties. Not touching you where you need it most.

Not yet.

He licks his lips, watching you squirm.

“Think you can come like this, angel?”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly. You don’t answer. You can’t.

But Harry doesn’t need one.

He just turns up the vibration.

And watches.

The vibrations deepened.

Your breath hitched—sharp, desperate, a ragged little sound that barely even made it past your lips. The plug was already relentless, pulsing deep inside you, the sensation twisting tight in your stomach, coiling lower with each slow, calculated increase of the setting.

You were already trembling. Already aching. Already so close.

And Harry hadn’t even touched you yet.

He watched you squirm, wrists and ankles straining against the silk restraints, body arching involuntarily.

Completely at his mercy.

Completely his.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his voice slow, measured, but dripping with hunger. His knuckles skimmed along your inner thigh, grazing just close enough to where you needed him—but never quite there. Just teasing. Just watching.

And the camera?

Still rolling.

Still capturing every little gasp, every tremor, every desperate little attempt to chase the pleasure he was holding just out of reach.

The red light blinked.

Recording.

His smirk deepened.

“Such a pretty mess, angel.” His voice was low, approving, hypnotic.

You whimpered, hips twitching, but the restraints left you helpless—spread wide, open, exposed, your body reacting instinctively to the overstimulation.

But Harry?

Harry was calm.

Patient.

He sat back, admiring his work—admiring you—as if he had all the time in the world.

And then, finally—finally—

His fingers traced over your panties.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips, your entire body jolting at the sudden touch. Even through the soaked lace, the warmth of his fingertips sent electricity crackling through your veins.

Harry hummed, pleased.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” His fingers pressed lightly, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the fabric. “Been like this all day, haven’t you?”

You nodded frantically, swallowing back a sob. “Y-Yes.”

He chuckled, dark and satisfied, rubbing just a little harder.

“Good girl.”

Your thighs quivered, muscles tensing, your wrists tugging at the restraints again. Every little movement sent shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your body.

And then—

He ripped your panties.

A sharp tear, the lace splitting effortlessly beneath his fingers. The fabric vanished in an instant, and suddenly, there was nothing between you and him.

Nothing stopping him from touching you—truly touching you.

And he did.

Slow. Gentle at first. Just his fingertips, gliding over your drenched folds, exploring.

Spreading you open.

His thumb circled your clit, barely any pressure at all—but after everything? After the teasing, the buildup, the vibrations inside you?

It was too much.

A strangled, helpless sob ripped from your throat, your back arching clean off the mattress.

Harry’s breath caught.

He groaned—actually groaned—watching you break for him.

“Fuck. That sensitive, angel?” His tone was teasing, but there was something else there. Something hungry.

He dragged his fingers through your slick, slow, deliberate.

“Bet you could come just from this.” His voice was silk and sin, completely entranced by the way your body shuddered, twitched, begged.

Your head jerked frantically, desperate, pleading, already teetering on the edge.

“P-Please—”

But before you could even finish the sentence—

He slid two fingers inside you.

Your vision blurred.

The stretch—the depth—the angle—all of it was perfect.

The moment he curled his fingers, you screamed.

The sound punched out of your lungs, raw and wrecked, as he pressed against that perfect, devastating spot.

Harry cursed under his breath, watching every second of it.

The way your body clenched around his fingers, the way you writhed against the restraints, the way your chest heaved, nipples peaked and sensitive beneath the cool air—

Every. Little. Detail.

Captured.

The red light blinking.

Recording.

He moved faster, fingers stroking deep, precise, thumb circling your clit in tight, merciless patterns.

“Come for me,” he growled.

It wasn’t a request.

It was a command.

And you had no choice.

The pleasure slammed into you like a tidal wave, tearing through every nerve ending in your body. You came with a sob, a scream, a desperate, shattered cry, your body convulsing, legs shaking, clenching so hard around his fingers it was almost unbearable.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept fucking you through it, fingers relentless, dragging out every last tremor, milking every last drop of pleasure until you were shaking, sobbing, gasping for air.

And only then—

Only then—

Did he finally slow.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your wrists trembling against the silk. Your whole body felt like static—shattered, floating, buzzing.

And Harry?

Harry was grinning.

He kissed your knee, slow and lazy, as he finally pulled his fingers out of you.

“Such a good girl.”

Your lashes fluttered, vision still hazy, but you could barely even register his words. Your body was spent, ruined, completely undone.

But Harry wasn’t finished.

Because then—

He licked his fingers.

Your stomach plummeted.

He hummed low in his throat, savoring, before grinning.

And then—

He reached for the camera.

Still rolling.

Still capturing everything.

And he smirked.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done.”

Your pulse was still pounding in your ears.

Your body was wrecked, trembling, every nerve ending overstimulated and raw from the orgasm that had just torn through you.

And yet—

Harry still wasn’t done.

He loomed over you, tall, broad, completely in control, the red recording light casting a soft glow over the sharp lines of his jaw. His eyes devoured you, taking in every little detail—

The way your chest heaved. The way your thighs still trembled against the sheets. The way your wrists flexed instinctively against the silk, as if you could stop him.

You couldn’t.

And you didn’t want to.

The bed dipped as he climbed over you, the heat of his bare skin searing against yours.

His cock—hard, leaking, thick and aching—dragged against your swollen folds, notching at your entrance, but not pushing in.

Not yet.

You whimpered, body arching instinctively, desperate for him, but he just chuckled—low, deep, indulgent.

“Mm. Look at you.” His voice was warm honey, slow and deliberate, each word sinking deep into your bones. “So pretty when you beg, angel.”

You bit your lip, hips shifting, trying to chase him.

He smirked.

And then—

The first inch.

You gasped, eyes flying open, head tilting back against the pillows.

He was thick, stretching you open so slowly that it almost burned.

But Harry didn’t give you time to adjust.

Didn’t give you time to think.

Because then—

Another inch.

And another.

Until he was halfway inside you, filling you, the intrusion both devastating and perfect.

Your nails dug into your palms, your body trying to take more—needing more.

And then, Harry reached for the camera.

Still recording.

He angled it down, making sure to capture the way your body was taking him, stretching around him.

His cock twitched.

And then, his voice—low, thick, wrecked:

“Fuck, angel. Look at this.”

You tried to, tried to open your eyes, tried to focus, but then—

He pushed all the way in.

The breath punched out of your lungs.

A sharp, desperate gasp—loud, needy, broken—tore from your throat as he bottomed out, pressing so deep you could feel him everywhere.

Your body clenched around him, still too sensitive, still feeling everything from before.

But Harry just groaned, deep and guttural, hips rolling in the slowest, most devastating grind.

Your toes curled, pleasure sparking white-hot under your skin.

You were still tied up. Still helpless. Still completely his.

And now, you were full.

So full you could barely breathe.

Harry pulled out—slow, deliberate—before thrusting back in just as slow, pushing you open all over again.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, watching you, watching the camera, watching everything.

Your body twitched, squirmed, begged.

He just smirked.

And then—

He set the pace.

Deep, slow strokes, hitting every spot just right, dragging against the oversensitive nerves he’d already ruined.

Your mouth fell open, pleasure crashing over you with every slow thrust.

Every inch of him pressing deep, stretching you so perfectly it hurt.

The camera blinked.

Recording.

Capturing the way your body was shuddering, the way your fists clenched the silk, the way your lips trembled around the moans he was pulling from you.

He leaned down, breath hot against your ear.

“Gonna give me another one, angel?” His voice was taunting, dripping with amusement. “Think you can come for me again?”

You shook your head wildly, chest heaving, eyes glazed over.

“I— I can’t—”

Harry just hummed, lips brushing your temple.

“Yes, you can.”

And then—

He fucked you deeper.

Your back arched instantly, wrists straining, a sob ripping through your throat.

The pleasure was blinding, white-hot, unbearable.

“Harry—”

His teeth scraped against your jaw, his voice gravel and smoke.

“Say it.”

Your breath hitched, nails digging into your palms, body trembling from the sheer force of it.

“Y-Yours,” you gasped.

His hips snapped harder, cock grinding against that devastating spot over and over—relentless, unforgiving.

“Again.”

A strangled sob.

“Yours—fuck—I’m yours.”

His groan was low, wrecked, dangerous.

“Good girl.”

And then—

His hand dropped to your clit.

Your vision blurred.

A sharp, overwhelming cry ripped from your chest, your body jerking violently, pleasure spiraling out of control.

You were gonna come. You were gonna fall apart for him again. You couldn’t stop it.

Harry knew it.

He wanted it.

He fucking needed it.

His fingers worked your clit in tight, ruthless circles, hips grinding deep, pushing you further, further, further—

And then he stopped.

Your body shuddered violently, the cruel absence of release ripping through you in an aching pulse. Your wrists strained against the restraints, fingers curling into fists as if grasping at the pleasure he had just stolen from you.

“No—Harry, please—” Your voice was wrecked, trembling, broken.

He only chuckled, slow and dark, as he withdrew from you completely, leaving you empty and throbbing.

“You were about to come, weren’t you?” he murmured, running a single finger up the slick seam of your cunt.

Your thighs twitched, trying to chase the friction, but the spreader bar kept you locked open, helpless. A desperate whimper crawled up your throat.

“Y-yes, I was—”

Harry tsked, tracing idle circles around your entrance, not giving you what you needed. “Shouldn’t have done that, angel. Didn’t I tell you? You come when I say.”

Tears of frustration burned behind your blindfold. “I c-can’t take anymore—”

A sharp slap landed between your legs, a quick sting against your soaked, sensitive cunt. You gasped, jerking at the impact.

“Oh, you can take more,” Harry said smoothly, rubbing the heated skin where he had just spanked you. “And you will.”

Your whole body quivered as he slid his fingers down, pressing them against the plug still nestled inside you. A strangled sound escaped your lips when he pushed it deeper, rocking it in place.

“Wanna stretch you out properly, baby,” he mused, voice thick with something dangerous. “But first—”

You heard the rustling of fabric, the creak of leather as he stood from the bed.

“Up.”

You barely had the strength to move, but you forced yourself to obey, arms shaking as you struggled against the restraints. The blindfold remained in place, leaving you vulnerable as you listened to him unbuckle something, the unmistakable sound of a belt sliding free from its loops.

Then—his hands were on you again, untying your wrists, removing the spreader bar. Your legs instantly trembled, weak from the overwhelming denial.

“Good girl,” Harry murmured, massaging the sore skin where the restraints had been. “Now, come with me.”

He grasped your chin, tilting your face up as he pulled the blindfold away. Your eyes blinked open, pupils blown wide as you took in the wicked smirk on his lips, the lust-darkened green of his gaze.

Before you could catch your breath, he scooped you into his arms. You barely had time to register the movement before he was carrying you out of the bedroom, past the cameras still recording every second.

The bathroom door swung open. Steam clung to the air as he stepped inside, turning the shower knob until hot water cascaded down, filling the room with a thick, humid heat.

Your back hit the cold tile a second later. You barely had time to react before he pressed his palm against your sternum, urging you down, down, down until your knees met the wet floor.

He grabbed the camera from the counter, flipping the screen toward him. The red recording light glowed as he aimed the lens at you, already kneeling and dripping with arousal.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, his voice a slow drag of filth.

Your breath hitched.

You obeyed.

The second your lips parted, Harry’s smirk deepened. He took his time, letting the camera capture every little detail—the way your tongue flicked out, the way your breath came in short, desperate little pants, the way your lips glistened from the mix of your own arousal and the steam filling the room.

“Fuck, angel,” he murmured, palming his cock, stroking himself right in front of you. “You look so pretty like this.”

He tilted the camera slightly, making sure it caught the way you were already trembling, still wrecked from everything he’d put you through in the bedroom. He hadn’t even touched you yet, but your body was still in pieces, still aching, still on the brink.

He tapped the head of his cock against your bottom lip. “Go on. Take it.”

You leaned forward instantly, eager, desperate to please, desperate to have some part of him back inside you. Your tongue darted out, licking the swollen tip before wrapping your lips around it.

The deep groan he let out sent a shiver straight down your spine.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he praised, one hand still holding the camera, the other coming to the back of your head. “Messy, baby. I want to see spit dripping all over that pretty face.”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in deeper, bobbing your head as your hands found purchase on his thighs. The hot water pounded against your skin, the steam thick, making the whole room feel like a fever dream.

The camera shifted in his grip, the angle catching the way your lips stretched wide around him, the way your throat fluttered as he pushed deeper.

“Shit—” He exhaled sharply, fingers tightening in your hair. “Keep going, angel. Take it all.”

You did. You let him guide you, let him control the pace, let him push further and further until the tip of his cock nudged against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, eyes watering, but you didn’t stop.

Harry groaned, low and wrecked. “Fuck, you’re so good for me.”

He pulled back, just enough to let you breathe, before pushing in again—this time rougher, faster, with more force. You moaned around him, the vibrations making his hips jerk forward. Spit dribbled down your chin, mixing with the hot water that streamed over your face, but you didn’t care.

“That’s it, baby. Get it all wet for me.”

He adjusted the camera again, angling it downward, capturing the way your lips were red and swollen, the way his cock disappeared between them over and over again. He licked his lips, voice dropping to something even darker.

“Gonna fuck your throat now, angel. You ready for that?”

You could barely nod, but you did, blinking up at him with big, watery eyes.

Harry growled.

“Good girl.”

Then he snapped his hips forward, holding your head in place as he started fucking your mouth.

The force made your throat tighten, made your gag reflex threaten to fight back, but you took it. His cock dragged against the back of your tongue, thick and heavy, every thrust sending you further into the haze of pleasure and submission.

Tears spilled down your cheeks. Drool dripped from the corners of your mouth. Your nails dug into his thighs as he used you, each thrust more relentless than the last.

“Fuck—look at you.” His voice was wrecked, barely holding on. “Gonna come down your throat, angel. Gonna fill you up nice and fucking full.”

You moaned, the sound muffled around him, but he understood.

“Yeah? You want that?”

You nodded desperately, tears spilling freely now.

Harry cursed, deep and rough, before pulling out just enough to let you breathe—then pushing in one last time, shoving himself as deep as you could take.

With a low, guttural groan, he came, hot and thick down your throat.

“Don’t swallow,” he panted, pulling back just enough to see the mess he’d left on your tongue. He angled the camera, zooming in on your wrecked, ruined expression.

“Show the camera, baby.”

You opened your mouth wider, letting him see everything—the cum pooling on your tongue, the spit clinging to your lips, the way you were completely, utterly wrecked for him.

Harry groaned. “Fuck.”

He smirked down at you, lowering the camera slightly, his thumb tracing the edge of your mouth.

“Now swallow.”

You did.

His gaze darkened even more.

“Good girl.”

The moment your lips closed around the last drop, Harry grabbed your chin, tilting your face up toward him. His thumb swiped over the corner of your mouth, catching the mix of spit and cum before pressing it back against your tongue.

“Still so fucking messy, angel,” he murmured, his voice rough, raw. “I should make you lick it off my fingers.”

Your tongue flicked out before he could even tell you to, taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking obediently. Harry groaned, his free hand fisting in your damp hair as he tilted the camera, capturing the way you looked up at him—wrecked, desperate, willing.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth with a pop, gripping your jaw tight before hauling you to your feet.

“Not done with you yet,” he muttered, voice dripping with something dangerous. “C’mon.”

He dragged you out of the bathroom, still naked, your legs barely steady after everything he’d put you through. The cameras in the bedroom were still recording, red lights blinking as he led you straight through and into the living room.

The moment your bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor, your stomach flipped.

The windows.

The massive, floor-to-ceiling windows, wide open, stretching across the entire room.

Anyone could see.

Your breath caught as Harry maneuvered you toward the couch, his grip firm, unyielding. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t even give you a moment to protest before pushing you down, bending you over the armrest, pressing your chest into the soft fabric.

“Stay.”

A shiver rolled through you.

You didn’t dare move.

Behind you, you heard him shifting, placing the camera down, adjusting it for the best angle. Then—his hands. Rough and warm as they skimmed over your hips, down the backs of your thighs. His palms kneaded your ass before spreading you open, exposing every inch of you to both him and the camera.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Look at you.”

Heat flooded your body. You squirmed under his touch, your thighs already sticky, already aching.

He didn’t like that.

His palm cracked against your ass, sharp and sudden.

You gasped, jolting forward.

“Be still,” he ordered. “Wanna make sure the camera gets a good look.”

You bit your lip, your body thrumming with anticipation as his fingers slid between your legs, teasing, testing. You were still soaked—already wrecked from the way he’d used you in the bedroom, the bathroom, every fucking room he wanted.

And yet, you still wanted more.

He chuckled darkly.

“So fucking needy,” he murmured, rubbing slow circles against your clit before pulling away.

You whined softly.

“Patience, angel,” he said, his tone taunting.

He reached for something—a bottle of lube, cold as he drizzled it between your cheeks. His fingers smoothed it over your skin, teasing your hole, making you twitch beneath him.

“One day,” he murmured, leaning in, voice just for you. “One day, baby, I’m gonna fuck you here too. Gonna stretch you out nice and slow.”

You whimpered, fingers curling into the couch.

“But not tonight.”

Instead, he pushed inside your pussy in one hard, punishing thrust.

You cried out, your body arching at the overwhelming sensation. He was still thick, still hard, still relentless. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, but he didn’t give you a second to adjust—his hands gripped your hips, holding you still as he set a brutal pace.

The wet sounds of skin against skin filled the room, mixing with your gasps, your whimpers, the deep groans spilling from his lips.

The camera was still recording.

Harry reached for it, lifting it with one hand, angling it down to catch everything—the way he filled you, the way you took him so fucking well, the way your body trembled beneath him.

He smirked, never slowing down.

“Wave, baby,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “Let them see how good you take it.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, a sharp spike of humiliation cutting through the pleasure. You could feel the heat of the camera on you, the weight of his stare, the way he watched you through the lens, utterly transfixed.

Your fingers gripped the couch tighter, your body burning with the mix of overstimulation and the sheer, undeniable thrill of it all.

“Go on,” he murmured, his voice a dangerous purr. “Be good for me.”

Shame curled in your chest, but the need to obey—to give him exactly what he wanted—was so much stronger.

You lifted one trembling hand from the couch and waved.

Harry groaned. “Fuck, look at you.”

He rewarded you with a brutal thrust, his cock slamming so deep it knocked the breath from your lungs. Your arm dropped, a broken sound slipping from your lips as he kept going, his grip tightening on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

The angle was devastating—his cock hitting deep, rubbing against every sensitive spot inside you, his pace merciless. The obscene sound of your slick filled the space, your body taking everything he gave without resistance, already so fucking ruined for him.

The camera was still rolling.

He moved it slightly, shifting to get a better angle, then pressed it close to where your bodies met, capturing the way he disappeared inside you over and over again.

“See that, angel?” he taunted. “See how fucking good you take me?”

You couldn’t even form words, your forehead pressing into the couch, your entire body trembling.

He leaned down, his chest flush against your back, the camera still in his hand. His breath was hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You were made for this,” he whispered. “Made for me.”

Your walls clenched at the words, your body betraying you completely.

Harry groaned, his hips stuttering for just a second before he caught himself, before he pulled back and gave you a particularly sharp thrust—one that had you gasping, your hands gripping the couch for dear life.

His free hand snaked between your legs, finding your clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles.

Your whole body tensed, the pressure inside you coiling tighter, tighter, so close to snapping—

And then he stopped.

You sobbed, your body shaking, your walls fluttering helplessly around nothing as he pulled out of you completely.

You felt him shift behind you, setting the camera back down, letting it capture the way your body trembled, the way your thighs clenched, desperate for more.

Then his hands were on you again, flipping you over, pressing your back against the couch cushions. His weight caged you in, his gaze dark, predatory.

“Not done with you yet, angel,” he murmured, dragging his thumb across your swollen lips, watching the way you panted beneath him.

The camera was still rolling.

His hand slipped between your legs again, teasing your slick entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against your overstimulated clit just to watch you squirm.

“You want more?” he asked, voice rough, teasing.

You nodded frantically, too wrecked to form words.

He smirked.

“Then get on the counter.”

Your legs barely worked as you scrambled up, body still trembling, overstimulated and desperate as you obeyed his command. The moment your feet hit the floor, Harry grabbed you by the waist, guiding you toward the kitchen with effortless control.

The counter was cold against your burning skin as he lifted you onto it, positioning you exactly where he wanted. Your thighs fell open instinctively, the evidence of everything he’d done to you glistening between them, your body still slick, still aching.

Harry groaned at the sight.

“Fuck, angel. Look at you.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he reached down, grabbing something from the bag on the counter. Your stomach flipped as he held it up.

The large plug.

Your breath hitched, anticipation and overstimulation clashing in a way that made you shiver.

“Color?” he murmured, his voice softer now, more serious.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe past the haze of it all. “Green.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he smirked, trailing his fingers up the inside of your thigh, teasing.

“That’s my girl.”

He kissed you then—hot and deep, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing the air from your lungs. His free hand worked between your legs, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clit, making you whimper against his lips.

Then, without warning, he pressed the plug against your entrance, pushing it in.

Your whole body tensed, a broken gasp spilling from your lips as the stretch burned for just a second—before the pleasure hit. The fullness, the pressure, the way it made everything more intense.

Harry pulled back, watching your face, drinking in every reaction.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Taking it so fucking well.”

The praise sent another shiver down your spine. You clenched around the plug instinctively, and Harry groaned at the sight, gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he taunted. “How much better it makes everything?”

You nodded weakly, barely able to breathe.

But he wasn’t done.

Reaching down, he clicked a button—and vibrations pulsed deep inside you.

A strangled moan tore from your throat, your body jolting against the counter as the sudden stimulation hit all at once.

Harry just chuckled, watching you squirm.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Already falling apart for me.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust, to catch your breath—his hands were already on you again, pushing your legs wider, lining himself up.

“Just one more, angel,” he whispered. “Just one more.”

Then he thrust inside you.

You choked on a gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as the sensations overwhelmed you. The vibrations, the stretch, the way his cock filled you so perfectly—

It was too much.

And yet, not enough.

Harry grunted, his grip on your hips bruising as he set a punishing pace, fucking into you deep, fast, relentless. His free hand shot up to your throat, his fingers curling around the column of your neck, squeezing just enough to make your pulse race.

Your vision blurred at the edges, your body trembling beneath him.

“S’this how you wanted it?” he growled. “Getting fucked so hard you can’t even think?”

Tears streamed down your face, your body wracked with pleasure, every nerve alight, every inch of you burning with overstimulation.

Harry groaned at the sight, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. His pace never faltered, his thrusts deep and brutal, fucking you through it, dragging it out.

Your walls clenched around him, the vibrations pushing you closer, closer—

And then you shattered.

Your entire body convulsed, pleasure slamming into you like a freight train, the orgasm ripping through you so violently you nearly sobbed. Your nails raked down his back, your thighs squeezing tight around his hips as he fucked you through it, chasing his own release.

Harry cursed under his breath, his movements growing erratic, rougher. He pulled out at the last second, groaning as he spilled across your stomach, his chest heaving, his body tense.

For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was your ragged breathing.

Then, slowly, Harry reached for the camera—lifting it, angling it down, capturing the absolute wreckage of you.

“Fuck,” he murmured, tracing a hand down your trembling thigh. “You look so pretty like this.”

The camera clicked off.

And then, he lifted you into his arms, carrying you straight back to bed.

The sheets were cool against your overheated skin as Harry laid you down, his grip still firm but gentle. Your body felt weightless, trembling, drained from everything he had put you through—but he wasn’t finished.

Not yet.

He reached for a towel, wiping the mess from your stomach, his touch softer now, deliberate, taking his time as he cleaned you up. You shivered under his hands, your body still sensitive, overstimulated beyond belief.

Harry hummed, low and satisfied. “You did so fucking good for me, angel.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he brushed damp hair from your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The shift in him was stark, a complete contrast from the dominant force he had been just minutes ago. Now, he was patient. Tender.

He grabbed a water bottle from the nightstand, twisting the cap off before bringing it to your lips. “Drink.”

You obeyed, swallowing the cool liquid, letting it soothe your raw throat. Harry watched you carefully, thumb stroking over your jaw.

“There you go,” he murmured. “That’s my good girl.”

Your heart squeezed at the praise, warmth curling in your chest. Even now, with your limbs weak and body wrecked, you craved it.

Harry must have seen it on your face, because he smirked, setting the bottle aside before slipping into bed beside you. His arm curled around your waist, pulling you in, pressing you flush against him.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, running his palm up and down your back, soothing, grounding.

You sighed into the touch, relaxing against him, sinking into his warmth.

His lips ghosted along your shoulder, pressing soft kisses up your neck, along your jaw. He traced every mark he had left on you, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sensitive skin.

A deep, contented sound rumbled from his chest as he held you close, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along your hip. “Proud of you, angel. Took everything so well for me.”

A sleepy hum slipped past your lips. You barely had the energy to respond, too far gone, your body melting into his.

Harry chuckled, the sound low and raspy.

Then, you felt it—his fingers reaching for the remote, grabbing it from the nightstand.

A moment later, the TV flickered to life.

Your stomach flipped.

You didn’t need to look to know what he was playing.

Heat crept up your neck as the sounds of your own moans filled the room, the unmistakable echo of skin on skin, the filthy words he had murmured against your lips now playing back in crisp, high-definition audio.

Your breath hitched.

Harry smirked, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, hungry, still burning despite everything.

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching the replay, his hand trailing down, fingertips ghosting over your still-sensitive core. “So fucking wrecked. So perfect.”

Your cheeks burned, embarrassment and arousal clashing, twisting deep in your stomach.

Harry chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’re keeping all of this,” he whispered against your skin. “Our own little collection.”

You barely had the strength to respond, your body too heavy, your brain too foggy.

But just before sleep claimed you, you heard him murmur one last thing—

“Hope you know… there’s going to be a part three.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

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

taglist: @oscahpastry @mema10 @angelbabyyy99 @iloveharrystyles04 @cinemharry @drwho06 @donutsandpalmtrees @panini @mads3502 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @one-sweet-gubler @rizosrizos26 @ciriceimpera @everyscarisahealingplace @hello-heyhi @sexymfharriet @lizsogolden @hannah9921 @chicabonitasblog @huhidontknowstuff @berrywoods1245 @jennovaaa @angeldavis777 @prettygurl-2009 @almostcontentcreator @run-for-the-hills @maudie-duan @dipmeinhoneyh @harrrrystylesslut @georgiarose94 @stylestarkey @watarmelon212 @hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @adoredeanna @secretisme4

[47lake]

talk to me

synopsis: you're trying to tell billie something but she can't help cutting you off.

‼️: dom!billie, sub!reader, oral sex(r!receiving), fingering, praise, “sweet girl”, “sweetheart”, “baby”, hair pulling w/c: 326

“i’m sorry i couldn’t hear you, could you repeat that for me?”

you huffed and began to repeat yourself, her cocky grin was doing everything but helping.

“i was just-“

you tucked your lip between your teeth as she increased the pace of her fingers, your chest heaving faster than before.

“billie! it’s so.., hard to talk..”

your words broke out in choked moans as she tortured your swollen clit so gently with her perfect tongue. she kissed you gently and her smile returned as you twitched.

“oh i know, sweetheart. you’re doing so well though, isn’t that right?”

you nodded and arched your back as she continued where she had left off. you could hardly think straight with the perfect portrait she was painting against you, her fingers like the most magical brushes. your slick coated her ivory skin beautifully as she coaxed you along.

“i want you to tell me how it feels, you can do that for me, can’t you?”

you tilted your head backwards as her touch continued to be unrelenting, a loud ‘mhm’ rolled off of your tongue.

you opened your mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come, your jaw hung agape as moans and whines ran out of you like a rushing river.

“talk to me, baby.”

your fingers found home in her dark locks, gripping onto the chocolate strands in an effort to bring yourself back down to earth.

“so, fuck, so good, bils.”

you felt her pleased hum ripple against your sensitive skin, your eyes snapped shut as you felt the warm wave building up inside of you.

you squeezed your thighs around her head as she dipped her tongue into your need. it felt so perfect, as though she was made to please you.

you opened your mouth to warn her of how close you were when she spoke up.

“i know, sweet girl. let it go for me.”

hope you guys like this little blurb! 🧟‍♀️

i’ve been sick for like a month so please excuse the lack of posts 😣

send any requests to my inbox ! 📥

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[girlgenius1111]

grey november

leila ouahabi x reader r moves to manchester to be with her girlfriend, leila. manchester, however, is very different from barcelona where r grew up. it's an adjustment, and one that's taking it's toll on r. leila notices, and tries to make it better any way she can think of.

basically r has seasonal depression. very light angst, mostly fluff and leila being the sweetest girl in the world 🥰🥰

—

Manchester was very grey. Of course you’d known that, but the reality of living it was something else entirely than hearing about it. Rainy and overcast could be cozy. Spending the occasional rainy day inside wasn’t something you minded living in Barcelona, but your move to Manchester had increased those rainy, overcast days. 

It was your first winter there, the first time you’d be spending an extended period of time in Manchester. The first two years Leila had spent in England, you’d remained behind in Spain. Mostly because your career, your family, your whole life was in Barcelona. Except… it wasn’t. Two years passed of flying to Leila, and her flying to you, and you never got used to it. Never got used to waking up most days alone in the bed you used to share, cooking breakfast in the kitchen alone where she’d used to sing off key every morning. And after two years, and no indication that Leila was coming back anytime soon, you’d realized life was too short. There would be plenty of years in the future, after football, that you could spend with Leila in Spain. For now, though, you ached for her every day. For her infectious laugh, the lines by her eyes when she’d smile, the way she slept with her head shoved under her pillow instead of laying on top of it. 

Leila had wanted you to come in the first place, yet understood it didn’t really make any sense for you. But as much as you missed Leila, every second of every day, she missed you more. She’d never ask you to move for her, but she needed you. 

She’d cried when you told her you’d be moving to Manchester. 

It was the end of May, one of the biggest months for your girlfriend and her team, and you’d taken time off work to go see her. The idea of moving to her had been swirling around in your head for a few weeks, and it slipped out one morning as she tried to extract herself from your embrace and leave for training. 

 “I just want to be with you. All the time,” she’d murmured. 

And with very little grace and absolutely no planning, you’d replied. 

“What if I moved here?” 

First, it was disbelief you saw on her face. And then, when she was sure you were serious, large tears welled in her eyes as she tackled you back down onto the bed, shoving her face into the crook of your neck and repeating over and over that there wasn’t anything she wanted more than that. 

Leila had been late to training that day, and you’d made the move in July. 

The first month was perfect. August and September, as well. October brought colder weather, more rain, more clouds. November was where it really started to go downhill. Leila was away with City and with the national team for what felt like half the month, and you were just… there. 

There, in Manchester, with only your job to keep you busy. Very few friends outside of Leila’s football ones. It seemed lonely, more than anything. You didn’t realize what it really was until it was already happening, until you’d slipped back into a place you hadn’t been in since you were an overly angsty teenager. 

Every day was harder than the last, the ones without Leila being the absolute worst. But you couldn’t let her see, couldn’t let her know. Your sweet, sweet Leila would be crushed with guilt. She’d try to move teams or scientifically alter the climate in England. You didn’t want her to feel bad; it wasn’t her fault the weather had an alarming impact on your mental health. 

So, when Leila was home, you were fine. You were good, because you had to be. You laughed at her jokes and let her put on a film in the evenings after dinner knowing full well she would start kissing your neck within 10 minutes, and the movie would be forgotten. 

When she was gone, you let yourself crumble. Staying in bed longer than was socially acceptable, wallowing in the oppressive weight that had settled on your chest. And when she’d get back, you’d make yourself pull it together. It was a cycle, one that began in November, and by December, one that you weren’t sure how to get yourself out of. 

The thing was, you were so busy acting fine that you forgot to make sure Leila actually believed that you were. 

—

Leila had been gone all weekend. An away game in London and an issue with their return trip kept her gone an extra day, but finally she was due home. The weekend for you had been… well, what had become averagely terrible. Most of it had been spent doing absolutely nothing, all the while your mind raced with all the things you should have been doing. You simply didn’t have enough energy for any of those tasks, though, the exhaustion you felt bone deep and paralyzing. 

A few hours before Leila was due home, though, you dragged yourself off the couch. If there was one motivator, one thing that could get you out of your head, it was that Leila couldn’t find out. She just couldn’t. 

You weren’t sure she’d get it, to start with. Leila was… Leila. Sunshine and smiles and laughter, all the time. Even when you weren’t dealing with depression, Leila’s social battery could long outlast yours. She’d go out and do something social with friends every day if she could. You’d never been that way, needing time to recharge between work and… work the next day. 

Before Leila, you didn’t do things on weeknights. But Leila brought you out of your shell, and you found yourself craving more time with others, as long as she was there too. 

So as much as you were beyond sure that your girlfriend would work tirelessly to understand where your head was at, you didn’t think she could. You didn’t think she’d be able to listen to you explain what was going on and not try to fix it. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Leila’s help; it was that you knew she’d give you a million suggestions that you wouldn’t physically be able to bring yourself to do. And she wouldn’t get that, you were sure. 

Leila couldn’t fix this, so there was no reason to burden her with it at all. As much as you wanted her comfort, you couldn’t push your problems on her when she wouldn’t have the answer. 

So, you cleaned the whole house in two hours flat. Changed the sheets, vacuumed behind the couch, and made dinner. By the time Leila arrived home, the house was perfect. Nothing out of order, nothing to suggest you’d spent the whole weekend on the sofa crying or sleeping or just staring at the wall. 

Of course, Leila could see it on your face the moment she saw you. The bags under your eyes, the way you seemed to drown in her clothes. 

She swept you into a hug, tucking her face into your neck and felt you sag against her. 

Your hair was damp and smelled like her coconut shampoo, and you were mumbling something about dinner and watching a movie, but all Leila could think about was the way you melted into her hug, and the look in your eyes as she’d come through the door. Relief, and exhaustion. Deep, all encompassing exhaustion. 

Gently, she nudged you back a little, her eyes locking on yours as she studied you. 

“Are you okay, my love?” Leila asked softly, her expression warm and inviting. 

For a second, Leila thought you might tell her what was going on. Your expression wavered a bit, but you blinked hard and forced a smile, leaning in to peck her lips. 

“I’m fine! Excited to have you back.” 

It was a lie Leila could see right through, but if she knew anything about you, it was that you were too stubborn for your own good. Leila could push and push, ask and ask, but you wouldn’t tell her what was going on until you felt ready. There wasn’t anything she could do about that, so she just nodded, pulling you back in by your wrist and kissing you much more fervently. 

By the time you broke apart, there was a dazed look in your eyes, but a different kind from before. Satisfied, your girlfriend tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Did you say something about dinner?” 

It took a minute for the question to process, your mind suddenly overcome with the softness of Leila’s lips, the little sliver of abdomen peeking out from her crop top, her slightly tousled hair. She was so pretty. You never got used to it. 

“Uh… yes. Yes, dinner. I made dinner.” 

With a grin, Leila grabbed your hand in hers and pulled you towards the kitchen. 

“It smells so good, amor. Like the best thing I have ever smelled!” 

You rolled your eyes at her enthusiasm, heading towards the stove to take the pot off the burner. As you rounded the kitchen island, though, you stumbled, foot catching on the trash bag sitting on the floor. Leila was across the room like she had super speed, steadying you before you could really come close to falling. 

The trash. You hadn’t taken it out earlier like you’d meant to. The house wasn’t perfectly in order. And god, neither were you. The façade you were putting on crumbled within a second, all the time you’d spent making sure you seemed fine meaningless.  

It wasn’t really a big deal, that you’d forgotten to take the trash out. It was just the last straw of an horrible, overwhelmingly emotional weekend. 

“I’ll take this out, if you want to pick a movie?” Leila said easily, oblivious to the way you were about to fall apart next to her. 

Leila grabbed the bag, her back to you, pausing when you didn’t reply to her. Then, she heard a small sniffle. She knew that sniffle, knew it from when something bad happened to an animal in a movie and you tried not to openly weep. She dropped the trash bag, turning around with a furrowed brow. 

“Cari?” Leila prompted softly, moving closer as she saw your lip begin to tremble. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

It was as if the question had unlocked a floodgate inside of you, and before you could even think to stop yourself, you were stumbling forward into Leila’s open arms, burying your face in her shirt. 

“Hey,” she murmured, wrapping one arm tight around your midsection, and resting the other on the back of your head. “Hey, it’s okay, baby. Everything’s okay.” 

Wordlessly, you shook your head against her, clinging on tighter because you honestly weren’t sure what would happen if she let go. 

Leila wasn’t letting go, though. She tugged you in even closer, squeezing as she rocked the two of you back and forth gently. “I love you. I love you so much.” Her voice was barely a whisper in your ear, but it was exactly what you needed to hear from her. Because, god, you didn’t love yourself in that moment. 

The tears began to stop much sooner than you were expecting, and Leila was turning off the stove and leading you into the living room within a few minutes. You moved away from her to sit on the sofa, but she shook her head, sliding onto the couch and pulling you to lay directly on top of her. 

One of her hands slipped up the back of your shirt, fingers tracing mindless patterns into your skin. She cradled your head with her other hand, making sure you stayed as pressed close to her as you could be. Leila held you like she could make everything better just by doing so. 

For a few minutes it was quiet. That was one of your favorite things about Leila; she was talkative and loud when she wanted to be, but she was also content to just… be with you. Just sit and let you gather your thoughts, no matter how long it took. Leila waited, more patiently than you thought you deserved. 

Finally, you found your voice. “I’m sorry.” 

Leila scoffed, and you were sure she’d have flicked you if you hadn’t just been crying. 

“I do not accept, because you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“You just got home and–”

“And nothing, baby,” 

“ –and I fall apart because I’m a disaster,”

“ You aren’t a disaster!” 

“ –and you have to deal with me and you shouldn't have to,” you finished despite Leila’s interruptions. You pulled away from her embrace, sliding off her body onto the soft next to her. 

Her lips were pressed into a thin line when you looked at her, frustration radiating off her. It was such a departure from her normal temperament that you forgot entirely if you had anything else to apologize for. Instead, you just stared into her deep brown eyes, waiting for her to say something. 

“I… I don’t deal with you. You are not a problem I have to solve. I love you, it isn’t a burden for me to be there when something is wrong, when you are upset.” Leila’s voice was practically trembling with conviction, so you reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. It was obvious that it hurt her for you to feel this way, for someone she loved and cherished to put such little value in themselves. 

“I know that, Lei. I know, I’m sorry. I’m just not myself.” 

Your girlfriend softened, then, her spare hand tugging at the ends of her ponytail like she always did when she was nervous. “Why aren’t you yourself, hmm? What’s going on?” 

And though you’d spent the whole weekend thinking about it, the whole month practically wallowing in it, there weren’t any words in your head that would convey the weight that you felt resting on your chest. 

“I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to say it.” 

“Is… do you want to break up?” Leila asked quietly, the tremble of her voice matching that of her chin when you snapped your head to look up at her. This was always what she defaulted to, and you should have known better than to speak so ambiguously. Leila loved so hard, so deeply, she often worried it was too much. She worried it would drive you away from her, as if you’d ever grow tired of her adoration. 

“Leila, no. Never. It’s not that, you’ve not done anything wrong.” You reassured her the best you could, brushing a soft strand of pin straight hair away from her forehead. Leila released a deep breath, concern returning to replace fear in her eyes. 

“Then what is it? You’ve been off for weeks.” 

You shifted uncomfortably, hating that you hadn’t been as good at hiding it as you thought. “I think I’m depressed.” You admitted finally, staring down at your hands as you began to pick at your cuticles. Leila’s hand covered yours almost immediately, her other gently tilting your chin until you had no choice but to make eye contact. 

“You think?” Leila pressed. “Or you are?” 

It was just like Leila to make you be as vulnerable as you could be, but you couldn’t deny it was one of the things you loved about her. The way she always saw through your futile attempts to write off your emotions as only partially valid. 

“I am.” Voice no more than a whisper, you shrugged helplessly, tears stinging your eyes once again. “I don’t really know what happened. I haven’t felt like this in years, but suddenly I’m here and it’s– I don’t know.” 

Leila’s eyebrows furrowed. “Here? Do you think being here has something to do with it?” 

At this, you averted your eyes entirely, pulling your hand out of her and staring at a spot on the rug, where the design swirled into several different colors. 

“Amor, you can tell me.” Leila implored. “Please. Is it England? Being away from your family? Your friends? Your new job? Do you not like the apartment?” 

Finally, you raised your eyes back to your girlfriends, finding a desperate need to fix looking back at you. Exactly what you hadn't wanted. 

“No. I mean, I miss my family and my friends but I’m so happy to be here with you. I like my job, I love our apartment. It’s…”

“What, baby?” 

It suddenly felt so ridiculous. So stupid. What were you supposed to say? The clouds are making me sad, Leila. The rain makes me want to curl into a ball in our bed and never get up again. The weather in this country is draining all the happiness from my body. 

“It’s the weather. The clouds and the rain. And the cold. I just… I never want to leave the apartment. I never want to go anywhere because it’s terrible out, so I don’t go anywhere and then I feel terrible about myself. I miss the sun, Leila. It’s so stupid, that it’s having this much of an affect on me, but I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I’m losing myself.” 

“Oh, baby.” Leila sighed, uncrossing her legs so she could pull you in close to her chest. “That’s not stupid, not at all. That’s a real thing, a completely real thing that you are dealing with.”

And though you’d known that, it felt like a weight off your chest to hear Leila say it. You allowed yourself to relax into her, allowed yourself to feel the weight of your emotion in her presence in a way you hadn’t in a long time. 

“There are so many things we can try to help you. We can find you a psychologist, and get you back to Spain for some sun more often. We’ll fix this, amor, I promise. We’ll get you back to yourself.” 

Leila’s words were mumbled into the top of your head, and you found them more comforting than you were expecting. Even if you’d known she’d try to fix it… even if you hadn’t wanted that. Leila was going to help you, and that was a massive comfort. You nodded into her chest, gripping tight to her shirt in a way you hoped would convey how grateful you were to her. 

The two of you sat there in silence for several minutes, wrapped up together so tightly you weren’t sure where you ended and where Leila began. It all felt less heavy just then, more manageable. You knew, though, that telling Leila what was going on was only the start of the process. 

—

The next day was a good one; the sun had emerged from its cloud prison for the first time in weeks, and you’d gone for a run. As much as you hated to admit it, the exercise helped, as did the sunlight. Leila had been gone before you’d woken, though you thought you remembered waking just barely to a soft kiss pressed to your head and sweet words whispered into your ear. 

It was a recovery day for Leila, and she was meant to be getting treatment down on her calf anyway, which had been giving her some trouble. She should have been home just before noon, just as you’d arrived home from your run. As it was, you’d had time to shower and make the two of you lunch before Leila walked in the door, a full hour after she was supposed to get home. 

You weren’t suspicious or anything, mostly just curious where she’d been. The question didn’t even have time to leave your mouth before it was answered, though, Leila practically bounding into the kitchen holding a bulky box in her arms. 

“Hi my love!” She grinned, putting the box down on the counter and sweeping you into a hug. Leila spun the two of you around, pressing kisses all over your face as you laughed, the flutter of her lips tickling your skin. 

“Hi, Lei,” you replied, Leila finally halting her attack on your face so she could kiss you once on the lips. 

“Hi.” She murmured against your mouth. “I missed you.” 

“You were gone for like… 4 hours.” You chuckled, winding your arms around the back of her neck and pressing yourself closer to her even as you teased her. 

“Still missed you.” Leila smiled, her face overwhelmingly earnest and adoring. “I got you a present!” 

“No, did you?” You teased, nodding at the large box sitting just inches away from you.

Leila just rolled her eyes, shoving you lightly as she reached for the box and tore it open. 

“It’s a light therapy box! You sit in front of it, and it shines on your face, and it’s supposed to feel like the sun!” 

Leila was so excited, yanking the rectangular light out of the box and presenting it to you with a flourish. Your heart melted, knowing then that Leila had stayed up long after you’d gone to sleep, doing research to try to figure out how to make you feel better. 

It was funny, that you’d been worried about her trying to fix you before. Leila wasn’t trying to fix you, and you weren’t sure how you’d thought she'd do so. Your girlfriend just wanted to help. Help wasn’t fixing. It was just what a good partner did. 

“Thank you, Lei. Really.” 

Leila blushed adorably, pushing hair out of her face as she smiled at you. “Do you want to try it?” 

Lunch sat on the counter behind you, but it wasn’t getting cold, and the hopefulness radiating off your girlfriend was enough to have you nodding enthusiastically. The next second, Leila had to light in one hand, and your hand in the other, yanking you towards the living room. 

For just a second, you thought that if her love could cure you, you’d never have gotten to this point. But you had. Love couldn’t cure you, but it could help. And Leila was determined to help. 

—

The light therapy box wasn’t the only thing Leila got you, but her other gift wouldn’t be ready for a few more weeks, until the two of you were home from spending Christmas with your families in Spain, before returning to England for New Year’s Eve. 

The time you spent in Spain was perfect. More than perfect. You got to see your family, got to enjoy the warmth. Well, it wasn’t warm by some standards, but it definitely was now that you’d spent time away from Barcelona. More than anything, you got to spend pretty much every second with Leila. No football to interrupt, no media commitment, no national team. Just you and Leila, spending every day together however you wanted to. 

As such, your mood had improved. It wasn’t perfect; you could still feel the echo of the deep exhaustion lingering in the peripheral of your brain. You were deeply dreading going back to Manchester and falling back into the pit of depression you’d found yourself in not too long ago. It terrified you, that things could get bad again and you wouldn’t be able to fix it. That this was just how you were now, how you would be for the rest of your time spent in Manchester. 

You could go to therapy and let Leila sit you directly in front of the light box as much as you wanted. There were certain aspects of your life in Manchester, though, that just meant loneliness. And that was what got you more than anything else. 

Unbeknownst to you, though, Leila had been considering this exact point. The two of you had talked it over, talked it to death why you were feeling the way you were. You maintained that it was just the weather, but Leila could tell you were lying. Could tell that her unavoidable absences at times were really taking their toll on you. 

And, ever the helper, Leila had come up with an idea.

—

“Shh.” Leila whispered. “Stop meowing, you’re going to spoil the surprise.” 

While you slept in, Leila allowed herself to be impulsive, something she often fought in the name of being a responsible adult. It was mid morning, the day after you’d arrived back in Manchester from Spain, and Leila had snuck out to retrieve her idea. 

A small, white and black kitten, with ears too big for his body and the biggest eyes Leila had ever seen on a kitten. She’d almost cried when she saw him for the first time, the sheer level of adorableness emanating from the little kitten. Leila had known in an instant he was perfect for you, a little buddy to be here when she couldn’t. 

She’d gone to get him while you were still asleep, picking him up from the shelter and stopping to buy about half the pet store on her way back. The kitten would have no shortage of toys or treats, that was for sure. But now, as she crept into the house with the kitten curled up in her arms against her chest, she began to get nervous. 

What if you didn’t want a cat? You loved your friends' cats, had talked about getting a pet before, but… maybe you’d changed your mind? She should have asked you first. 

It was too late now. Mostly because she’d already adopted the kitten, and partially because she was attached, too. This was her kitten, even if they’d only really known each other for an hour or so. All she could do was pray you thought this was a good idea, or she’d be stuck with a kitten she adored and a girlfriend who was furious. 

The small kitten mewed again, and Leila froze, just a few feet from the partially shut bedroom door. 

“Shh, pequeño. We have to make sure she likes you before she finds out how noisy you are.” Leila whispered, peppering kisses onto the top of the little guy’s head. He pawed at her face in response and she giggled, before slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Lei? Are you… laughing to yourself?” You called, having woken just a few minutes prior and heard your girlfriend mumbling to herself. “And did you meow?” 

“Um… I have a surprise.” Leila called back, still not moving any closer to the bedroom. She was using the voice she used when she spilled an entire mug of coffee on the white carpet in the living room, and you were suspicious instantly. 

You sat up, eyes wide with surprise. A surprise… that meows. It didn’t take a genius. 

“Come in here and show me.” 

It was silent for a moment, before Leila took a deep breath and moved closer, gently pushing the door open. 

“Oh… oh my god.” You breathed, scrambling out from under the covers and moving closer to your girlfriend. “Is that a cat?!” 

Leila nodded nervously, holding the kitten out to you with both hands. “Surprise?” 

It was clear to you that Leila had not entirely thought this through, the anxiety on her face speaking for itself. Expression still unreadable, you took the kitten into your arms, almost cooing at how he snuggled into you, apparently sleepy from giving Leila a hard time earlier. 

“I… I know I should have asked you first. But I also know you hate being alone here, and I’m gone so often right now, and I just thought not being here by yourself might help. I should have asked first.” Leila spoke rapidly, hands gesturing wildly as she spoke. 

You weren’t really sure what to say. Leila was known to do impulsive things, absolutely more of a ‘don’t ask permission, ask forgiveness’ kind of person, but you’d never expected her to do this. On the other hand, though, Leila was right. Absolutely right, and you’d been thinking about how to bring the idea of getting a pet up to her. Apparently, you hadn’t needed to worry about it. 

In your arms sat the sweetest, most adorable kitten you’d ever seen in your life, purring softly as you gently rubbed his head. And standing just across from you was the sweetest, most thoughtful person you’d ever met in your life; how could you be mad at her? 

“You should have talked to me first.” You began, softening as Leila cringed and nodded, quiet apologies spilling out from her. “But this… this is kind of perfect, Lei. I was thinking about asking you how you felt about getting a pet. And this guy… he’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Leila exhaled, relieved as if she’d been told the world had narrowly avoided a nuclear crisis. 

“Oh thank god. I don't know what I was thinking. one second, I just wanted to help you feel better, and the next… I was buying a cat.” 

Your girlfriend seemed genuinely baffled at her own actions and you couldn’t help but laugh, tucking the kitten under one arm and lifting the other, gesturing Leila closer. She scooched in, slouching herself down so she could tuck her face into your neck. 

“I love you.” She murmured. “I just want you to feel good, to be happy.” 

You tilted your head so you could kiss her temple, overcome with how very loved Leila made you feel. 

“You make me very happy, Lei. Thank you.” 

Leila just held you tighter, thinking she’d buy every cat in the world if this was your reaction. She’d buy anything, do anything, to see such a happy smile on your face. 

—

[aealzx]

_______________________

Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous

_______________________

“DANNY!”

The moment Danny arrived with Jason at the meeting site Jazz and Danielle were immediately wrapping him in a hug. Which was only somewhat unexpected. But after a moment of being surprised Danny found himself holding his sisters tightly, lowering his head between both of theirs’.

“I’m okay. Just… had to blow off some steam,” he assured quietly, taking in their scent and reminding himself that they were still there. He did feel a lot better than yesterday. But there was also an uncertainty if his reprieve would be short lived. And as he lifted his gaze to his friends, and caught sight of their uncertain expressions, he let his mask fade so they could see the half smile he gave them.

That tiny smile was enough to motivate Sam to speak. “...Danny, I-”

 “They have a really good burger joint here,” Danny interrupted. “We should go some time.” He knew what she wanted to say, but he didn’t think he could handle hearing it just then. He didn’t want apologies. Couldn’t handle sympathies. Let him just focus on what he wanted to do at the moment.

It was a simple pair of sentences, but it held just enough behind it that Sam and Tucker’s shoulders both drooped in some relief. Their friend was okay for now, and wasn’t upset with them. And even still wanted to hang out with them. It was more than they could ask for, but they would accept it all the same.

“Sure dude,” Tucker accepted.

“Only if they have vegetarian,” Sam half agreed. Her usual response.

None of them were okay. But they were hanging in there.

“You didn’t puke from it?” Danielle half joked, trying to make the mood lighter now that there was some faint semblance of normalcy among the group.

“No. I’m fine,” Danny half snickered, reaching up to squish his hands against her round cheeks. “Let’s just get you taken care of so we don’t end up having a repeat of this past mess. And then I can take you to go get a burger too. Okay?”

He already seemed to have a plan. Already falling into his forced role leading the people from Amity. Bruce’s frown under his cowl grew, but he didn’t comment. There were more of them there than necessary for the proposed task. They all knew from Jason’s texts that something wasn’t quite right. But they didn’t have enough information to motivate any of them to do more than watch. So watch they did as Raven stepped forward.

“...I’m sorry for your loss,” Raven began politely, also uncertain how to address the mixture of emotions she was picking up. “I had no idea-”

“Let’s save talking about that for later, yeah?” Danny requested, interrupting the girl before she could stir too much of the hurt back up from where he had it buried. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but he told himself it was just temporary.

“...Sure,” Raven relented, figuring she didn’t need to delay any longer in getting to the task she’d been asked to do. “I’ll start with showing you how I accessed the Liminal Realm while walking you through the process. Just watch and listen for now, and we can discuss any questions you have after. Okay? Also, don’t be surprised if it doesn’t work.”

Danny nodded easily, eager to watch how this had been done. They had already warned him there was a chance the ritual would fail this time. But there was also a chance that it would be more stable with him there. Raven had mentioned that he appeared to have a stronger connection with the Realm then even Danielle did, and at this point he was hoping it was true. He needed a good thing in his life right then.

As Raven started her demonstration the rest of the group moved back to give them some space. It was a little smaller scale than before, with the ritual area being isolated to just Raven and Danny. Each motion she made she explained the reason for. As well as any non visual elements that Danny wouldn’t be able to pick up on. Focus of intent, recital of inscriptions in her mind, directing certain energies in which manner, and which energies specifically.

Honestly Danny hadn’t been expecting to understand any of it. He was used to science, not magic, and even then science was a struggle. Or perhaps not, if Tim was still correct. But as the portal between realms was gradually pieced together Danny found he seemed to understand more at a subconscious level than he’d thought he would. He knew that energy. He knew this feeling. He knew this pattern. He knew these demands. This was his realm. And without his home realm to vie for half possession of him it was even more prominent now as a small rift opened in the space in front of Raven, barely visible from where Danny was standing mostly behind her.

This. Was. His. Realm.

And it owed him.

He was right.

“That’s enough Raven, I’ll take it from here,” Danny spoke up suddenly, an unexpected confidence lacing his tone as he reached out to grab Raven’s shoulder and pull her back. She sputtered slightly not only in confusion, but also because pulling her out of the central point caused the tiny connection she’d built to the Liminal Realm to flicker. At first Raven thought that the realm was irritated about the ritual being disrupted. But as Danny became the central focus for that tear to see, for whoever was beyond that tear to see only him, Raven noticed a distinct sense of uneasy anticipation. Everyone that was there could feel the air shift from the same  absent eeriness from before to feeling like they had millions of eyes actively staring through them. Eyes from people, from things they didn’t know had turned on them, watching as Danny took Raven’s place and gently shoved her away.

There was something watching all of them that seemed borderline angry, but Danny didn’t seem to care. He’d thought it would take longer than one afternoon for him to get the connection to the Infinite Realms that he needed. But this was enough. And both sides knew it.

And it was good it was angry, because Danny was too.

Reaching his fist back Danny ignored the others’ cries for him to hold on and smashed his hand through the tiny gateway, shattering it and the surrounding area of this realm in a crashing cascade of glass. The others felt their realm lurch around them, breaking away and tilting just enough to feel wrong and disorient their sense of balance as they were dumped into the connecting space between realms. There were short cries and curses from the crowd brought to the weightless realm that Jazz and the others from Amity immediately recognized, expressions going slack as they realized what happened.

Danny had brute forced his way into taking over the ritual, bending the intent to his own and ripping open a gateway whether it wanted him to or not. Because he knew it couldn’t tell him no. He may not be the Ghost King, but he was something else. He was their connection between realms. Their servant- their slave - their soldier, their hero, their icon. Kept obedient and easily manipulated through ignorance that no longer applied. He would not be kept out of his realm. And he’d even selected the specific place he’d wanted them to be brought to.

As soon as Danny’s hand had passed through the barrier between realms he’d opened his fingers just long enough to grab a fistful of fabric before he could even see who it belonged to. It was only when the barrier fully broke away, a moment of blinding white and residual glimpses of the other realm’s sky lingering in their sight, that the owner of the purple cloak was visible. And said owner seemed incredibly unconcerned with Danny holding him in a borderline chokehold.

“...There you are, Danny,” Clockwork chose as a greeting.

“Clockwork?!”

“Danny! What are you doing?!”

“Who?”

“Oh this is bad!”

Despite the commotion of those, admittedly accidentally, brought to Clockwork’s tower with him, Danny just narrowed his eyes at the ghost he’d grabbed. “Put. Them. Back,” he demanded, not bothering to elaborate since he knew Clockwork had already seen everything that had happened.

“I can’t do that,” Clockwork denied easily.

“Yes you can! Turn back time! Send me back alone! Just do something!” Danny protested, his irate front breaking slightly into desperation and causing him to have to force his grip to tighten.

“And why should I?” Clockwork asked, prodding.

“BECAUSE YOU OWE ME!” Danny burst, bringing his other hand to also grip the fabric at Clockwork’s throat and shaking him slightly. “All the damn errands I’ve run for you! Every mess I’ve helped you clean up! Every damn mistake you’ve forced me to correct- even when it wasn’t my fault! I took out Pariah for you! Vortex! Undergrowth! Myself! I helped you rewrite the future so you didn’t have to deal with me! You. OWE. Me!”

“You speak as though the tasks given to you aren’t outweighed by your own mishaps we’ve had to clean up,” Clockwork pointed out, knowing that Danny had personally caused his fair share of trouble with the Infinite Realms.

“YOU STARTED THIS IN DEBT TO ME!” Danny roared, eyes flaring bright with a flash of ice.

Despite the outburst, Clockwork seemed almost pleased with the accusation, a strange glint in his eye despite his smile from the beginning having never faltered. “...That’s a rather bold claim,” he pointed out, eyes shifting momentarily away to look at someone who wasn’t there. “Care to elaborate?”

Despite his anger, Danny still caught Clockwork’s motion, and understood what he was getting at. They were being watched. And while the watchers knew what Danny meant, apparently he had to say it. Had to show them he knew they had broken their own rules. That they had stolen his right to choose. He drew a breath to steady himself, but his voice still shook with borderline rage when he answered. “You told me before that I always have a choice. When I tried to change the past to save my friends. And again when I beat Pariah- you told me then that the Infinite Realms run on people being able to make their own choices. That it’s a law here, and that they couldn’t force me to take the crown if I didn’t want it.”

“Yes. I did. What’s your point?” Clockwork confirmed, prodding again.

“And you can confirm that those choices are honored. For example: my decision to not accept the title of Ghost King is still in place.”

“Correct,” Clockwork confirmed, then repeated his previous prompt. “What’s your point?”

“You broke that law when I became half ghost,” Danny finally exposed. He didn’t mean Clockwork specifically at this point, but he wasn’t sure exactly who were all involved in this matter, his gaze momentarily scanning the space around them. He’d only ever dealt with Clockwork, who always seemed stuck in the middle of whatever disastrous mishap was going on.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Clockwork prodded once more, a slight smirk betraying that he did know, but once again needed Danny to say it. 

The response wasn’t specific enough. And while it was frustrating to have to play this game Danny had learned by now that Clockwork was only playing this game to lead him into saying what he needed to say. “I became half ghost by opening the portal to the Ghost Zone - to here- that was in my parents basement. And I learned in that realm we ended up in that it was only possible because this realm requires payment. Payment that was taken on that day.”

“Yes. Your parents paid the price of succeeding in opening a permanent portal to the Infinite Realms in the form of losing their only son. Despite years of failure, they made the choice to continue to pursue the portal, even though there was a risk of catastrophic failure,” Clockwork confirmed, giving him a break by filling in one of the facts for him.

“They chose to continue their research, but I didn’t choose to DIE!” Danny snapped, unable to keep himself calmer. “They paid a price, but I also paid for a debt I didn’t owe. You took my choice away!”

“You walked into the gateway.” Clockwork pointed out.

“I fought Pariah!” Danny countered.

“You didn’t know defeating him would allow you to take the crown.”

“I didn’t know walking into a hunk of metal that hadn’t worked in ten years was going to kill me!” Danny shouted, shaking Clockwork again.

“People die from danger they’re unaware of everyday, Daniel.”

“But how many of them are from a direct action from the Infinite Realms?” Danny hissed, pulling Clockwork close. “I know now that someone else was there, on this side of the portal, to offer me a sacrifice to open the portal and keep it open. I know that someone chose me as a pawn, and didn’t give me a chance to accept or not. I know that someone here broke the law at my expense, and I know that The Observants are involved despite claiming they never act. And therefore I demand that my family, friends, and anyone else I care about be allowed to live long, healthy, fulfilling lives. Or else you’ll have to deal with something worse than Dan.”

There wasn’t a response this time. At least, not from Clockwork. The age shifting ghost simply allowed Danny to maintain a hold of him, letting his words ring into the aether and allowing those watching to consider their actions. Consider the consequences to the events they had allowed to happen. That they may or may not have manipulated into reality. And after a horrid stretch of stagnant time the very environment seemed to shift. The anger that permeated the Realm faltered, then faded. Sliding away into what could more accurately be described as frustrated, and somewhat shameful acceptance.

It made Clockwork laugh.

Which in turn made Danny falter slightly, his grip on Clockwork’s cloak loosening enough to allow the ghost to pull his hands away. “So, you figured it out,” Clockwork eventually chuckled, resting a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “You are correct. There are many in the Realm who owe you recompense for taking away your right to choose the life you have now. So let’s see if we can figure out how to meet your demands without using up your little pool of debt, or breaking the other realms, shall we?”

It was enough. That was finally enough for the relevant people to understand that Danny knew exactly what was going on. What had happened. There was a glimmer of proof that Danny’s idea from the night before on the couch might actually work. That he could force The Observants, and any other necessary party, to bring his realm back because they owed him more than he could probably cash in on. To break such a fundamental law of their realm put them in his debt, and they were only safe because he hadn’t known until now.

He hadn’t known until a certain ghost of time made sure he ended up in a realm where someone would be there to tell him.

Breathing out a shaky sigh, Danny let his head sag forward to thump against Clockwork’s chest, fingers loosely gripping his friend’s cloak. “...Thank you,” he breathed, ignoring the mild shake in his tone.

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

Hhhhhhhhh I got excited and ended up drawing this one real fast because I realized there was a lil trick I could try (that I'm really hoping worked) with the image @ v @ People on dark mode won't get to see the trick because dark mode spoils it, but people in light mode click the picture (or drag or open in a new tab) to see something extra.

Also I'm so excited for this part because I actually had the part with Clockwork typed out since around the part with Raven telling them what Danny was. There's a lot about Ghost King Danny, or new Ancient Danny, but what if Hero of the infinite realms was already something more than those?

And shout out to Rainbow_Sneks on AO3 for being the only person to comment guessing The Observants were involved 8'DDD Well done!

___________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira, @nomaru666

[pitchsidestories]

shining in all the colours of the rainbow II Leila Ouahabi x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1643

summary: Leila and Reader's daughter finds out from Ona what the rainbow captain's armband is all about and that you can choose a family. requested

author's note: Hi, enjoy this little story and as always your feedback is very appreciated. 🤍🤍

disclaimer: Everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

For a second you were completely absorbed in the kisses you had shared with your wife until you realised that someone important was missing.

“Amor, why did you stop?”, Leila's lips formed into a pout that you normally found endearing, but not at that very moment.

Panic mingled in your voice as you pointed with your hand in the direction where your daughter had been standing until recently: “Because Nour isn’t here anymore!”

“What do you mean?”, she frowned in confusion.

In slight despair, you bit your lip:” Look! Do you see our daughter? No.”

“She was here a moment ago.”, Leila mumbled, running her fingers through her dark hair.

You nervously called out your daughter's name, but she didn't answer, which only increased your concern for her.

Normally you were proud that your wife and you continued to play for the Spanish national team, but right now you were cursing your brief moment of inattention.

Reassuringly, the defender stroked your back:” I’m sure she’s somewhere around, hanging out with the girls.”

“Right.”, you nodded and feel a little less anxious after her comforting words. The national team absolutely adored Nour.

She pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead: “Don’t worry.”

“Let’s see where Nour is.”, you replied, walking hand in had through the rooms of the national team camp.

Meanwhile your daughter was looking big eyed at one of your teammates: “What are you doing, Oni?”

“Hey bebita, I’m filming a video for the Spanish federation.”, Ona explained and opened her arms so that Nour could sit on her lap, who took everything in with childlike curiosity.

The little girl asked her in a whisper, sensing that the Catalan woman was a bit uneasy in front of the cameras:” Do you need to be saved? You don’t look comfy.”

“I’m good. No worries.”, Ona answered with a genuine smile on her face while lightly tugging at her colourful captain armband.

Something about it immediately caught Nour's eye:” You’re wearing a rainbow.”

“I do. It’s the captain armband.”, the defender declared.

She took a closer look and noted with a twinkle in her eyes: “It’s pretty.”

“Yes, it’s, right? I like it too.”, Ona admitted smiling.

Noisily, your daughter questioned: “The colours do they mean something?”

“The rainbow flag stands for equality and diversity. It means everyone should be treated the same way, no matter what.”, the Barcelona player stated in a serious voice.

“No, matter what?”, Nour repeated, interested.

Lovingly, Ona stroked your daughter’s hair before giving her an example:” Well, no matter who you love for instance.”

The little girl tilted her head, studying Ona with big eyes: “Like my mamis? And tia Lucy and you?”

“Yes, exactly.”, the defender nodded.

“Nothing wrong with that.”, the girl shrugged.

“For some people this is very wrong.”, Ona explained carefully, hoping she would understand what she was trying to say.

Nour considered her for a moment before she tore her gaze away. Instead, she looked down at her shoes with her arms firmly crossed in front of her chest.

“Yes, I know. I had a fight…”, she revealed gravely.

Ona blinked at her in surprise: “You did? When?”

Nour let out a heavy sigh: “In my football training with a stupid boy.”

“You didn’t tell me about that yet.”

Nour was just opening her mouth to tell Ona everything when you and Leila walked in. You almost felt bad interrupting their conversation like that but at the same time relief washed over you when you finally found your daughter.

“Here you are.”, Leila sighed and kneeled down to hug her.

Nour looked from her to you and back again: “Mamis.”

“Hi amor.”, you greeted her and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead once Leila let go of her.

“Your daughter just told me…”, Ona started, then paused to exchange a look with Nour.

“Told you what?”, Leila asked.

“That she fought with a boy in her football training.”, the defender continued after the smallest nod from the little girl.

You immediately turned to your daughter, hearing about this story for the first time: “What? Why?”

“He was mean!”, Nour defended herself.

“But why didn’t you tell us?”, you asked. Your heart sank a bit, scared that your daughter already had secrets from you.

“I didn’t want to get in trouble.”, she admitted quietly.

Before you could, Leila pulled her into a tight hug: “You can always tell us everything. You won’t get in trouble.”

“He said it’s wrong.”, Nour said, ignoring Leilas words but ready to share her story with you.

“Wrong?”, you repeated.

She nodded adamantly: “To like girls as a girl.”

“And what was your answer to that?”, Leila wanted to know.

“That he’s stupid if he thinks that.”

Your heart filled with pride as you looked at your daughter. She was so young, but ready to stand up for what she believed was right. You had no words to describe how proud you were of her. And from the silence in the room, you knew the others felt a similar way.

Ona was the first one to speak again: “Nour? Maybe you should have been in front of the camera instead of me.”

“What? Why?”, the little girl asked her in wonder.

The younger defender replied with a proud smile on her lips as she slipped the captain's armband around your daughter's arm: “Because you've got to the heart of what this is all about.”

But it immediately began to slide, which made Nour burst out laughing:” That’s too big for me.”

After a brief look, Ona returned her laughter and admitted:” Yes, you need to grow into it a little.”

“Maybe one day.”, your daughter sounded hopeful.

Smiling, you agreed, while the little girl's face darkened.

“Am I going to get in trouble because I called him stupid?”, she wanted to know from your wife and you.

Quickly, Leila assured her:” No, you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Okay.”, Nour nodded, her expression brightening. You couldn't help but notice that when your daughter beamed, she looked even more like your wife than she already did, which warmed your heart

Quietly, you promised her: “You’ll be alright.”

“Yes, you did the right thing, Nour.”, Ona added in a serious tone.

At that moment, the sun broke through the cloud cover and the crystal balls, which were attached to the window as decoration, conjured up little rainbow stripes in the room. The small girl was amazed at the magic that was unfolding before her eyes.

Enchanted by the beauty around her, Nour tried to make you three notice it:” Mamis, Oni, look it’s beautiful.”

“It’s a little rainbow for you.”, Leila whispered into your daughter’s ear.

In awe, the younger defender remarked:” You guys are truly the cutest family.”

“No, we all are.”, the small girl corrected her gently but firmly.

“Exactly, family is not just blood.”, you hummed.

Smirking, your wife prompted the two of you: “Come on, we’ve to let Ona continue filming her thing.”

First you heard her voice, only then did you notice Laia Aleixandri, who had appeared in the door frame. “That’s true. Plus, I heard there’s some cake waiting for a special girl.”

“Cake?”, Nour repeated, visibly excited.

With a twinkle in her eyes, Ona requested: “Nour, can you take one for me too?”

“Yes, I’ll save you one.”, your daughter swore.

Gratefully, Ona smiled at her before returning to film the video: “Thanks.”

In the evening, when Nour was already asleep and you and your wife were getting ready for bed, you sat down on the bed and realised with amusement:” I think our daughter fell into a cake coma.”

Everything was more tranquil in the dark and the night lamps shed a cosy light. 

“I feel like she deserved the cake today.”, Leila chirmed.

You nodded: “She did. Even though she ran away from us.”

“Yes, but she’s a smart girl. She always stays close to the team. And she knows what’s important.”, Leila grinned with clear pride.

“That’s true.”, you had to agree.

“I was very impressed.”

You watched your daughter take deep, calm breaths in her sleep. She looked totally at peace.

“When did Nour, our little light, become so wise?”, you asked quietly.

Leila shrugged: “I don’t know. She didn’t get that from me.”

You smiled at your wife: “Oh but she did get your charming smile and your good looks.”

She rolled her eyes to distract from the pleased smile and the blushed cheeks: “You always know what to say.”

“Oh, you think so?”, you teased her.

“Yes.”

“I remember that it was important when we got together.”, you laughed.

“I remember that too.”

You both sat there laughing quietly to avoid waking up Nour as you thought back to when you just started dating,

“And that you told Alexia on our first night together that I’d be your wife and the future mum of your children.”, you added.

Leila laughed even harder: “I knew what I wanted back then. And I was a bit drunk that night.”

“Maybe a little more than drunk.”, you corrected her.

“Maybe.”

“But you were cute nonetheless.”

Leila pouted innocently: “Am I not anymore?”

You studied your wife for a moment before you winked at her: “No, you’re still cute. But maybe even hotter than in the past.”

“I can only give that compliment back.”, Leila smirked.

Now it was you who blushed. You could feel the blood rise into your cheeks. “Stop.”

“Make me.”, Leila challenged you playfully.

Without missing a beat you leaned over and silenced her in the fastest and most efficient way. You kissed her hard and hungry.

Your lips only separated when you felt Nour stir next to you. You both looked down at her but she was still asleep in the glow of the moonlight.

pictures from pinterest

[sturnslutz]

back to friends.

angst, suggestive, friends with benefits, unresolved, being drunk, use of y/n wc: 1.7k listen to this song on repeat while reading.

matt walked into the room, stumbling onto your bed, his eyes heavy. you were laying down on your bed, aware of what had happened to him and kept both your doors unlocked for him to come inside without problem.

he let his body fall to the edge of your bed, barely hitting your feet. he grumbled, mumbling incoherent words into your sheets. you leaned up, scratching through his brown locks softly, matt letting out a small sound.

"y'need some water?" you ask softly. he nods, lifting his head up from your blanket, fully allowing you to see his drunk, tired face. "here. drink." you handed him a bottle of water that was on your side table, matt happily accepting it.

the last time matt was actually in your bed was not even 3 nights ago where him and his brothers got into an argument, leading him to come to you, his best friend, sobbing into the pillow.

after finishing the bottle, he tosses it somewhere before crawling up closer to you, clinging to you like a small child. "missed you. shoulda' came."

"you know i don't like those parties. i can't be around all those people, especially ones who are drunk." matt snickered at this. "can't be around me, huh? damn." you slap his arm softly, rolling your eyes.

"not you, y'aren't a alcoholic. you drink sometimes and go overboard at times." matt scoffed. "no i don't. y'just saying that so i'll stop." you get taken aback a bit by matt's sudden defensiveness but dismiss it. "you need to take a shower and sleep, you're being a bitch."

matt sat up on his forearms, his face hard as stone. "i'm not. fuck you." he stood up wobbily, heading to your bathroom, slamming the door in the process. you sigh, pulling out your phone and texting chris.

"matt's over again. wanna pick him up or just let him stay here?"

"fuck im sorry nick's staying over w a friend tn and im staying w a girl, ill pick him up tomorrow morning tho. hope he isn't too much of a hastle :/"

"nah hes good just a bit cranky"

matt walked in again, his shirt off but still remaining in his sweats. it looked like he had washed his face and ran his wet hands through his hair before he slid back into your bed next to you, letting his arm fall over your waist.

"y'texting chris?" he mumbles into your shoulder. you nod, humming. "yeah, just let him know you're here." he scoffs a bit. "like he cares. you guys worry way too fucking much. 'm a 21 year old man. fuck outta here with that "caring" bullshit." he sits up, grumbling.

matt had never really spoken to you this way, or even this loudly ever and you wondered where it all suddenly came from.

"you need to chill, matt." you say while playing with the ends of your hair, your eyes flickering to matt's silent self every few seconds. "shut the fuck up, y/n. you don't know shit. we hooked up, what 2 times? been friends for god knows how fuckin' long and you think you know shit about me. you don't. stop actin' like you my girlfriend." matt snaps, turning his upper body towards you.

"i'm just trying to help out-" "i don't need your fucking help. not you, not chris, not nick, not anyone." matt interrupts. he fully looks back at you, his eyes meeting your eyes for the first time that night, genuinely.

you see his eyes glance down to your lips before his eyebrows furrow a bit as it seems like he's searching every part of your face for something neither of you are quite sure of.

"what?" you ask simply. he meets your eyes again, his tough act growing once again. "nothing." he leans back down onto the bed, turning his body facing the other wall. he scoots himself back a bit subconsciously to let his back touch your arm, even slightly.

he doesn't move, and neither do you as the sounds of your breaths filling the quiet room. "im sorry, y/n. i don't mean to be mean. i just don't feel good." he says softly, after some time. he turns his body to face you, his eyes looking over at your figure that was being illuminated by your lamp on your sidetable.

you look over at him, seeing his low eyes examine your face a bit, before he leans in, kissing your lips softly, searching for anything. you kiss him back a bit before turning your head. "you reek of tequila." you laugh a bit and he rolls away, letting out a breathy laugh also.

"whatever. c'mere." he grabbed your jaw a bit tight, bringing your face back to meet his. you kissed back almost immediately, disregarding the reek. he lets his hand fall to your cheek, rubbing it softly.

after some time, matt pulled away. "remember the first time we kissed? when we were 14?" matt said while kissing your neck, bringing up the memory. "yeah, at summer camp. and we promised not to tell anyone or do it again then we made out in your tent later." you giggled, remembering the memory.

-flashback-

summer of 2017. best friends with the sturniolo triplets who invited you to their camp they've been going to since they were 6. it was lunchtime, and you and matt had picked a table somewhat far away from everyone else, something that became normal for the both of you.

this day, matt had taken a red marker from the arts and crafts station. "can i draw on you? just little hearts." matt said, fiddling with the marker in between his fingers. "yeah, go ahead." you said, taking a sip out of your chocolate milk that was somewhat good.

matt began drawing little red hearts and then coloring the inside of them with a bit more pressure to create a darker color against your skin. "i wanna try something." he whispers before leaning down and kissing each individual heart on your arm with such softness.

the movement caught you by such surprise, leaving your breath hitched in your throat, but you couldn't move your arm away. the feeling of him kissing your body felt so nice.

he leaned back up, with a clear marker stain on his lips. "was that okay?" he muttered, to which you immediately nodded to. "yeah, yeah. y'just got a little stain right there. i'll take it off." you pointed to his lips to which you leaned in, kissing him and him kissing back immediately.

you pulled away after a little bit, seeing that the stain had now been on both your lips, yours and his. he giggled seeing this, before leaning in once again.

-flashback over.-

"good times, i'm telling you y/n." he said before snuggling into your neck, wrapping his arm across your waist, pulling you in tightly. "turn off the light, would you?" he muttered. you nodded, leaning up and flicking the off switch.

the night went on smoothly, soft words and giggles being thrown into the air, eventually leading you two to fall asleep, wrapped up in each other, a lot more close and personal then "best friends" should be.

the sun peeked through your curtains, a low groan being emitted from your throat. you stretched, your knuckles hitting your headboard, causing another groan to be made.

you let your eyes open up a bit and noticed a certain emptiness next to you. you knew matt had come over last night and you two did fall asleep next to one another but did he really leave like that? a decision he's made countless times even after sex, promising he wouldn't do it again?

you leaned over to his side to look for anything of a sign of him. a note, a sock, anything. nothing. nothing was left, and it was almost like he wasn't there. you leaned back over, picking up your phone that was still attached to the charger, the time showing 8:37am.

he hadn't even left a text. he just left like the numerous times he had done before. you pulled up your texts with chris, the last being a text from you last night telling how matt had been "cranky."

"hey has matt left to your house? he js left without a word"

chris responded 3 minutes later.

"he left already? i was supposed to pick him up. lemme check his loc hold up"

"he turned it off lemme ask nick gimme a sec"

"nick said matt turned his location for him off too. all at 4:37am ig"

you checked your messages with matt, and it said the same thing.

"matt has stopped sharing their location with you at 4:37am."

he left 4 hours after he had came? where the fuck did he go?

"hey did u get home safe? left without saying anything lol"

matt responded 13 minutes later.

"ya"

"alr just text me later when ur less hungover"

"k"

throughout the day, matt still hasn't said anything. you had seen a couple clips of him from peoples' stories taking shots, smoking, and making out with random girls.

these stories were all on close friends or private stories of these influencers because if the internet had saw, matt would've been fucked.

seeing matt kiss other girls irked something in you, a feeling you know you shouldn't feel. but you did feel it, whether you liked it or not. matt and you were strictly only friends, a relationship was something the both of you couldn't commit to.

matt was known for being a "loverboy" and "the shy triplet" to the internet, but he was the complete opposite off of the screen. he would fuck you like no other, he would make you cry like no one else had, and he would make you laugh the hardest you ever have.

that's what you loved and hated about matt.

you had learned from before not to talk about your place with matt to him, and learned that he literally couldn't care about "aftercare" or whatever that shit was.

the feelings you felt for him had never changed and you continued to look past the toxic self he put on himself. you continued to see him as the guy you used to love when you were a teenager, and the adult who's back you always had, whenever he needed the support.

[heartsforjh]

here’s the second part to this ask! i apologize for the wait! things have been kind of hectic lately!

main masterlist | tik tok series masterlist

You set up your phone camera on the kitchen counter, hiding it behind some junk that you should probably tidy up later. You know your boyfriend, Will, is about to take a shower while you cook dinner, so you’ve decided to pull a harmless little prank on him.

You saw a girl on TikTok respond with just a “thank you” when her husband told her he loved her, and his reaction was hilarious. Will is like an affectionate, innocent puppy of a boyfriend, and you have to get his reaction to you trying it.

When you hear his footsteps approaching, you quickly grab some pots, pretending to look busy. He comes around the corner and stands beside you, resting a hand on your waist.

“Hey. What are you doing?” he asks, looking down at you.

You flash him a simple smile. “Hi, babe. I’m about to make dinner.”

“Alright. While you do that, I’m just gonna shower real quick,” he says, gently rubbing your back.

You nod. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll be right back. I love you,” his hand gently guides your face towards his, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

You return your attention back to the dinner you’re making. “Okay, great. Thank you!”

Silence.

He doesn’t move a muscle. He just stands there, waiting. You put on your most innocent face and glance up at him, acting clueless.

“Okay, yeah. I love you,” he repeats, as naturally as possible.

You nod and give him yet another smile. “Thank you!”

That’s when his brows knit together, a deep frown forming on his face. He must have realized he looks too harsh, because he tries to soften his expression. However, he just ends up looking concerned—and concerning—at the same time.

“Yeah… are you- are you gonna respond to me though?” he asks in the sweetest voice, which almost makes you feel bad.

You look down for a moment, as you struggle to hold back a grin. “What do you mean? I said thank you.”

“I know. But, that’s thank you. I said I love you. You didn’t say I love you,” he explains, trying his best to be patient. There’s worry—and maybe slight panic—written all over his face.

You shrug your shoulders, trying to seem unbothered. “Yeah.”

“What? What do you mean?” His voice cracks.

It’s really getting to him now. It’s past the point of odd, and he’s definitely noticed something’s up.

You sigh, dramatically. “By ‘yeah’? I mean, it’s a word that’s typically used for confirmation. I can’t believe you don’t know what that—”

“Baby, no,” his tone becomes desperate as he places his hands on either side of your hips, turning you to face him. “Can you please do it right?”

“Do what right?” you ask, giving your best oblivious act.

Will looks at you, his eyes soft and pleasing. “I love you. I love you, okay? Are you mad at me? We can talk about whatever it is.”

“Uhhh… okay, fine. I’m joking! It’s a little prank,” you admit with a laugh, giving into his pouting.

His head falls back, and he lets out a deep groan. “Baaaabe!”

“I’m sorry! I wanted to see what you’d do!” you say, smiling as you move closer to him.

He looks back at you, and immediately pulls you into a tight hug. “You scared me! I thought you were upset.”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong. Just wanted to mess with you,” you wrap your arms around his neck.

He shakes his head, playfully acting exhausted. “You’re crazy, but I love you.”

“Thanks,” you joke, not wanting to pass up the opportunity.

His face immediately drops. “Babe… too soon.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. You can go take your shower now,” you say, but he doesn’t budge. “I love you.”

He sighs in relief, then kisses the crown of your head. “That’s better, baby.”

You look up and give him a proper kiss, making sure he really knows how you feel about him. He peppers your face with kisses in return—a good sign. He lingers for a while after that, watching you make dinner and talking to you, until you finally convince him that all will be okay if he leaves for a few minutes to take his shower.

tags: @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @azure-dawn81 @joesnumerouno @macklin-celebrini-71 @randomcuboidshape

join the taglist here! :)

[allertonhoe]

B13 with submissive rafe who’s loud asf in bed 🫦🫦🫦🫦 nsfw <3

ahh thanks for the request!!! i honestly haven’t written a lot of sub stuff, so i’m really sorry if this isn’t great/not super subby lol but i really hope you like it!!

prompts: "God, you feel so good!"

content warnings: 18+ MDNI - smut, original afab!reader, sub!rafe, use of petnames (baby, good boy lol), dirty talk, masturbation (f), unprotected p in v.

500 follower celebration! (CLOSED)

"Baby, please."

You could only laugh bitterly in response, his begging not having any effect in altering your disinterest. Your relationship with Rafe was... interesting, to say the least. It was only inevitable for you to become friends with benefits, the informal arrangement having gone on for a few years without too much contention.

You'd gone out with him and the rest of your mates tonight, which was nothing out of the ordinary. But after barely giving you attention the entire evening, here he was, once again, expecting you to be willing and eager when he couldn't find another girl to take home.

"I'm not used to you asking so nicely," you allude.

"Come on," he instigates, his fingers sweeping under the hem of your shirt.

"Sit down," you command him in a soft tone. "On the chair."

He gave you a reluctant look at the instruction, not catching onto what you had in mind. You stood in front of him, stripping off your clothes—starting with your bottoms, then shedding off your top. Taking a few steps forward so you were directly in front of him, shoving his hands away when he brought them up to grab your waist.

"No touching." You advise him, his features furrowing at your assertion.

You hovered over him confidently, tracing your pointer and middle fingers along his bottom lip. Feeling his tongue wrap around the digits when you stuck them in his mouth, his heated gaze locked on you. Retreating over to the bed and situating yourself to face him, noticing him peel his shirt off in anticipation of what was next.

You pushed your panties to the side, not wanting to give him a full view as you began rubbing the sensitive area. An exaggerated gasp leaving your throat as Rafe observed you with half-lidded eyes, pressing his palm to his crotch to alleviate some of his own discomfort.

"Rafe," you interrupt promptly, halting your movements. "I said no touching."

"You're kidding, right?" He retorts in disbelief.

"Do you want me to make you feel good?" You survey, raising your brow at him. "Then no touching. Be a good boy."

While he scoffed at the new nickname, he didn't challenge you further on it. A mixture of frustration and hunger painting his expression as he tried to concentrate on you instead of his own urges. Watching as you dipped into your slick and relieved some of the tension you were dangling over him.

"Fuck," he mumbles, clutching the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles were turning white. "Please. I need something, baby."

"So impatient," you scold lightly.

You sauntered back over to where he was sitting, in no rush as you slipped his belt out of the loops. Popping open the button of his bottoms and tussling with the fly, brushing over his bulge in the process. Retreating once more as you turned your back to him, peeking over your shoulder as you took off your bra and panties.

You swayed your hips over his seductively, Rafe letting out a dramatic sigh at your continuous teasing. Swivelling back around, you reached for his waistband. Only pulling his pants down to his mid-thigh, restricting his legs from spreading too wide. Climbing onto his lap and placing your legs on either side of him.

"Please," he repeats hoarsely, glancing up at you like he couldn't take anymore.

You held him in your palm and dragged him between your folds. Already throbbing just from the display you put on, aching for any sort of relief. His demeanour the complete opposite from when he'd been ignoring you and scouring the dance floor for other potential conquests just an hour ago.

Finally giving in to his pleas, you sank down onto him. Rafe letting out an animalistic groan, shuddering at the tender sensation. You didn't move right away, soaking him in your wetness. Your hands landing on his chest as he tried taking over the reins, his muscles flexing at the contact.

"I need you, baby," he rambles.

"You need me?" You purred.

Your finger trailed down his bare torso, your other arm draping around his neck to hold your balance as you started grinding onto him. The pace much slower than you were used to with him, the two of you typically going for a more wild and greedy approach. Rafe throwing his head back as he reveled in his pleasure.

"Like that?" You whisper in his ear.

"Just like that. Fuck, baby," he muttered. "God, you feel so good."

You rolled your hips to meet his, feeling his cock twitch at every motion. Bringing your lips to his nape, peppering chaste kisses along the flesh. He couldn't keep his hands to himself any longer, squeezing your sides as curses fell from his mouth.

Your thighs were becoming sore from your unconventional position, refocusing on hitting your own climax instead of deliberately taunting him. Your tits bouncing in his face, giggling as he glanced up at you with blown-out pupils. Barely recognizing the disheveled figure underneath you that was yearning for your touch.

"I'm so fucking close," he grumbles, licking his lips as he panted.

"Not before me," you direct.

He wasted no time covering his fingers in spit, playing with your swollen clit and sending jolts through your body. His unoccupied arm enveloping around your waist to keep you near. His forehead resting against yours, your tough front easily crumbling as he broke you down.

"Oh my god," he grunts. "Come on, baby."

He rocked in rhythm with you, building you up with no difficulty. Desperate moans and the filthy, wet sounds of your endeavor echoing through the room. Sending you over the edge with a few more lively pumps, losing yourselves in the moment of pure bliss. His flow not impeding as he chased his release. 

His dick throbbed as he kept slamming into you, every thrust deeper and more feral. Digging your nails into his shoulders as the familiar flame burned in the pit of your stomach again. Not having to work hard to coax another orgasm out of you, reaching his own just moments later. Your walls fluttering as he filled you with his cum.

"Fuck," he shouts, never having gotten such a strong reaction from him.

Neither of you were in any hurry as you rode out your highs. Rafe lifting you up slightly to pull out of you, feeling empty from his sudden absence. He slumped back into the cushion, caressing up and down your bare spine as you both caught your breaths. Leaving a gentle peck on his chest as you cuddled into him, settling back to your usual dynamic.

And with an abrupt shift, he swept you up into his arms and threw you onto the bed playfully. His predatory stare returning, now laced with something else. Like another layer had been peeled back between you, and things wouldn't be going back to how they previously were. Crawling on top of you and caging you in beneath him.

"Good boy, huh?"

[twins-write]

Half a Truth is Still a Lie

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Buck finally finds out about Y/N's feelings and asks her on a date... but is it a real date, or just a ploy to make Veronica jealous?

Based on 4x08, when Albert invites Buck to a double date with him and Veronica

Warnings: None, just a bit angsty. Could be classified as hurt-comfort.

Notes: Finally posting again! I involved a lot of best friend Eddie as well... I couldn't resist. Hope you guys like this one <3

Word Count: 8.06k.

Author Signature: 🦋

The 118 pulled up to the scene they were called to, hopping out of the firetruck, but not taking any action as they watched a negotiator talk to the armed criminal who was pacing on top of the roof.

“And how did he manage to get up there?” Y/N asked with raised brows while Buck and Eddie chuckled next to her, the former shaking his head as he shrugged, “Guess he wanted to try and prevent himself from getting arrested.”

“Looks like he’s doing a good job.” Eddie commented, scoffing in slight disbelief as they stood next to the firetruck, watching the negotiator try his best to talk the criminal down.

“Oh, look- Taylor’s here.” Buck stated, pointing to the reporter that stood a good distance away from them, talking about the incident to the camera.

Y/N rolled her eyes, the girl having not liked the reporter since the day she met her, but for some reason, it seemed Buck had taken a slight liking to her- especially considering he had slept with her before.

That may be another reason Y/N didn’t like her all that much.

“While we sit here doing nothing, let me continue telling you about Veronica and how Albert-”

Eddie groaned, interrupting his friend, “This again?”

“What?” Buck asked in an offended tone while Y/N shook her head at him, “You’ve been talking about them the whole time we’ve been on shift. That’s six hours.”

“So?” Buck scoffed, “You guys are my friends, aren’t you supposed to listen to me rant?”

The girl next to him shrugged, “Yeah, technically, but you’ve been repeating the same thing over and over. We get it- you had a bad date, bad date girl happens to live on the same floor as you, your roommate took a liking to said bad date girl, and bam, you caught your roommate in her apartment in nothing but a towel.”

She then turned and looked at him with raised brows, “Does that sound about right?”

Eddie laughed while Buck sighed in slight defeat, “Yeah.”

“Why are you so mad about it anyways?” The girl asked him curiously, turning her attention back to the male who was pacing on the roof.

“What do you mean? You don’t think I have a right to be mad?” The blonde male questioned.

She shrugged, “I mean… from what you’ve been saying… you didn’t like her all that much. Why do you have a problem with Albert dating her?”

“It’s bro-code!” Buck argued, causing Y/N to turn to Eddie, “Eds, what do you think?”

Eddie raised his hands in mock surrender, “Oh no- do not bring me into this.”

Buck turned to him quickly, “What? Traitor!”

“I didn’t agree or disagree with you!” Eddie replied in slight disbelief that his friend was now annoyed with him.

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll go talk to someone who will listen to me.” Buck said before walking in Taylor’s direction, causing Y/N to scoff, rolling her eyes as she yelled after him, “We have been listening to you for the past six hours!”

Buck didn’t reply nor turn around, only continuing on his path to talk to the red-head, which Y/N realized- releasing a sigh as she watched him begin to converse with her.

Eddie gave her a knowing look, causing the girl to look at him with furrowed brows, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Looking at you like what?” He asked, giving her the same look- the one that implied that he knew something.

She pointed at his face, “Like that!”

He pursed his lips, giving her a small shrug, “I don’t know, just seems like you’re jealous of a certain someone.”

Then he glanced at Taylor, causing Y/N to follow his gaze. She laughed, “You’re joking, right?”

Eddie raised his brows, “No.”

“I’m not jealous of Taylor- of all people.” Y/N told him, annoyance covering her tone.

Eddie looked away from her, mumbling something under his breath.

The girl looked at him and spoke sarcastically, “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

He repeated himself so she could actually hear him this time, “Maybe you’re just jealous that Buck is giving her attention because you see him as more than a friend and he doesn’t realize it.”

“I-” She began, only to stop talking, knowing he was right. The girl sighed, leaning her back against the fire engine, allowing her head to thunk into the side, “You’re right.”

“I know.” Eddie chuckled, leaning next to her and patting her shoulder gently, “You should just tell him.”

“And, what? Make every shift awkward? No thanks.” She said, shaking her head at his suggestion.

“I don’t think that’s how it’d turn out, but okay.” The Diaz male shrugged, deciding to drop the conversation as they walked closer to the rest of their team- minus Buck.

Her and Eddie stood to the left side of Hen, who was sitting down on the side of the fire engine, Chimney and Bobby standing to Hen’s right.

The group sat quietly, listening to the criminal yell while he walked around the roof, “You shut up! You’re a liar! You said you’d help me find a way out.”

“I didn’t mean with a helicopter.” The negotiator quickly replied, gaining a shout from the criminal, “Shut up! I need to think!”

“Eh… should’ve tried thinking before he ended up on a roof.” Eddie stated, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the side of the engine again, “I mean, he cornered himself.”

“That there is a whole series of bad life choices culminating in this one unfortunate moment. It’d be tragic if it wasn’t so moronic.” Hen replied.

“Why don’t they just storm the roof?” Chimney questioned, “It’s not that high. We can give ‘em a ladder.”

Bobby shrugged, “It’s a tactic negotiators use to drag out the process in order to wear down the suspect. Eventually they hit a breaking point.”

“Or we do.” Chimney said in response.

“Yeah, you got that right.” Y/N scoffed, shaking her head and looking at Bobby, “Shouldn’t we set an airbag below the roof or something incase he falls?”

He shook his head, “We don’t want to make him think we’re going to push him off or anything. He might just panic if we start setting it up.”

The girl shrugged, “I mean, it’s just a safety precaution, we could tell him that.”

“I don’t think someone pacing on a roof with a gun is going to be thinking rationally, though.” Eddie told her, nudging her in the shoulder as she nodded in agreement to his statement.

“Ten bucks says he falls right off that roof.” Hen muttered, causing Y/N to laugh as Eddie pulled money from his pocket, “20 says he makes a leap for the tree.”

As Bobby looked over to Eddie in slight disbelief, the male replied, “Come on, the guy’s got at least one more bad life choice left in him.”

Y/N looked to the side and noticed how irritated the homeowner looked, the girl smirking as she pulled a bill out of her pocket, “50 says the homeowner pushes him off.”

“That’s morbid.” Hen chuckled with raised brows, causing Y/N to shrug with a grin. 

Y/N, Eddie, and Chim handed Hen money, the woman taking it and pocketing it as they stood, continuing to watch the situation.

After a few moments, Y/N’s eyes trailed over to where Buck was standing, leaning against the railing as Taylor reported to the camera- the male waiting for her to be done.

She shook her head with a sigh, “I need coffee.”

Bobby looked at her with raised brows, “Want to make a coffee run?”

“Am I okay to do that?” She asked her captain, the male shrugging, “I don’t see why not.”

“What am I going to drive, though?” The girl then questioned, knowing she couldn’t take the fire engine or ambulance in case something happened while she was gone.

Her captain hummed in thought as Hen chimed in, “You could always ask Athena if you could borrow a cop car.”

Y/N laughed, “There’s no way I’m allowed to drive one.”

“Then ask for an escort.” Eddie suggested, causing her to nod, “Okay. I’ll be back.”

The girl walked towards Athena, who just so happened to be near Buck and Taylor- Y/N noticing that Taylor was off air at the moment because her and the male were talking.

“Athena!” Y/N yelled, causing the sergeant to turn towards her, “Do you think it’s possible I could get an escort to a coffee shop?”

“As long as you’re getting coffee, I can get someone to take you.” She replied with a laugh.

Y/N smiled as Athena walked away to grab someone, the girl taking this opportunity to go ask her other friend if he wanted any.

“Buck.” She shouted as she got closer, her voice drawing not only Buck’s attention, but Taylor’s also.

“I’m going on a coffee run, do you want anything?” She asked, causing him to nod, “Coffee sounds amazing right now.”

“Your usual?” 

Buck nodded with a smile and then turned to Taylor, “What do you want?”

Instead of replying directly to him, Taylor turned to Y/N and stated her order, the latter trying to make sure her distaste didn’t show on her face as the former spoke.

Once Taylor was done speaking, Y/N gave them a thumbs up, Buck shouting a quick thank you as she walked away, rolling her eyes once she had turned away from the duo.

Eddie chuckled from a distance, having watched her interaction and her reaction as she walked away, drawing the attention of the group next to him.

“What’s so funny?” Hen asked, causing Eddie to shake his head as he smiled, “Nothing.”

-

Two hours in

-

Y/N returned from the coffee run about an hour and a half ago, having gotten her team their specific orders- along with Athena and Taylor’s- and then having gotten a bunch of other plain ones for the first responders that she hadn’t asked. Even though they weren’t their specific orders, she figured the least she could do was bring them some. She also brought sugar packets and more for them to put additives in their coffees if they wanted to.

Her coffee was gone now, though, along with her teams’, and she sat in the back of the ambulance playing cards with Hen and Chimney as the latter talked about the upcoming birth of his child.

“So Maddie really wants to have this baby at home?” Hen asked him as she placed a card into the pile, Chimney’s turn coming up as he replied, quoting what the mother of his baby had told him, “‘I was a nurse, you’re a paramedic, what could possibly go wrong?’”

The duo with him chuckled as Y/N took her turn, Hen replying to him, “Feels like a 911 dispatcher should know the answer to that question.”

They all laughed at that, Y/N chiming into the conversation, “I think you just need to tell her how you’re feeling. I’m sure she’ll understand your point of view.”

Chimney shrugged, “With all the pregnancy hormones, I’m not so sure.”

Eddie walked over to them, peeking around the edge of the ambulance so that he could see all three of them, “How would you guys feel about pizza?”

“Please!” They all replied in unison.

-

Three hours in

-

“I’m so hungry!” Y/N whined, laying her head on Eddie’s shoulder, the male laughing as he wrapped his arm around her and shook her slightly, “He should be here soon. They mentioned that they had a lot of orders, so it would take a while.”

“It’s been an hour!” She replied as Eddie looked towards the edge of the scene where a pizza man was walking in. He pursed his lips, “I think you might’ve summoned him.”

Then he walked off towards the male, Y/N cheering as her stomach growled, “Finally!”

“Good lord. How much trust are we trying to build here?” Athena asked, causing Eddie to turn to her, “Actually, that’s for us.”

“Why does everybody get to eat but me? Maybe I’m hungry too!” Mr. Nowels, the homeowner, complained, causing Y/N to shrug as she walked closer, “You want a slice?”

Mr. Nowels sighed, having only been trying to make a point, and walked away. Y/N shrugged as Eddie paid the delivery man, the girl grabbing the hot bag and pulling the two boxes out with a grin, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to stuff my face with a slice of pizza.”

Eddie chuckled as she handed the bag back to the delivery driver and waved before he walked off, the duo turning and walking back towards the truck.

“Me either, Y/N. Me either.” Eddie replied.

-

Four hours in

-

Y/N looked to the side and noticed one of the police officers leaning against the fire engine as Buck talked to him, the girl laughing and shaking her head as she walked closer.

“Is he bothering you, sir?” She asked the officer, causing Buck to glance at her with a deadpanned expression.

The officer shook his head, “He’s telling me how his roommate violated ‘bro code’, whatever that is. I don’t think that’s a real thing.”

Y/N looked at Buck with raised brows and a grin as the male sighed and then spoke, trying to defend his point, “How do you know, though? It’s unwritten.”

“How long did you date this woman?” The officer asked him. Y/N crossed her arms with a smirk on her face, watching the interaction as Buck replied, “90 minutes, maybe less. We took dessert to go.”

A watch began beeping, the officer glancing at his wrist, “And I’m done. Good luck.”

Then he walked away, Y/N letting out a low whistle before she began laughing. Buck glared at her, “Shut up!”

Then he took his mask off, throwing it at her, which only made the girl laugh more.

-

Five hours in

-

Eddie quietly began chanting under his breath, leaning against the firetruck as he whispered, “Jump. Jump.”

The rest of the team, except for Buck who wasn’t with them, quickly joined in as they watched the criminal continue to pace on the roof, “Jump. Jump.”

-

Six hours in

-

Y/N sat quietly by herself, Buck with Tayor, Eddie with Athena and Bobby, and then Hen and Chim with each other.

The girl quietly picked at her nails as she waited for something to happen so that they could finally leave this scene.

She heard footsteps, but decided to ignore them, until they came to a stop in front of her. The girl looked up from her hands, looking at the officer who had come up to her.

“What’s a pretty firefighter like you doing all by herself?” He flirted, causing the girl to raise her brows before smiling, “Waiting for this guy to be done pacing on the roof so we can leave.”

“Yeah, I feel you.” He agreed, sitting next to her on the asphalt.

He then looked at her, holding his hand out with a grin, “I’m Anthony, but people always call me Mac because my last name is Macallister.”

“Well, Mac, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” She smiled, shaking his hand.

Mac looked over her shoulder for a second, furrowing his brows before bringing his attention back to her, “That blonde firefighter keeps starring at us.”

“Hm?” Y/N hummed before Mac pointed and she turned, making eye contact with Buck, who quickly looked away and continued his conversation with Taylor.

The girl shrugged, “He’s probably just wondering who you are.”

“Yeah, I think he may be a little jealous.” The officer laughed, giving her a knowing look with a smile. Y/N furrowed her brows, shaking her head, “Nah, he doesn’t think of me in that way.”

“You sure?” Mac questioned with raised brows, causing the girl to nod, which prompted another question, “But you like him, right?”

“Is it really that obvious?” She asked with a sigh, causing him to laugh, “Well, I’ve been watching you a bit today- not to sound creepy or anything- and I’ve noticed the stares you give him when he’s talking to that redhead. I just don’t think you realize that he stares at you also.”

Y/N looked at Mac with a small smile, “Yeah, I-”

The girl got interrupted by a loud crash, a car alarm going off. She quickly stood up, looking over towards the criminal and running over there- noticing Mr. Nowels had just pushed him off the room. Internally, she was cheering, knowing she just won the bet, but externally, she began to do her job.

She ignored Mr. Nowels, who was yelling, and ran over to the criminal, Eddie quickly coming over to assist.

They got to work on safely getting him off the car, putting a neck splint on just in case he had a spinal injury before putting him on a backboard and attending to some of his cuts. Hen and Chimney hopped into the back of the ambulance while Eddie went to the front, the rest of the team getting into the fire engine- the ambulance turning on their sirens. Athena followed in her cop car so that she could make sure he was arrested after he got his medical care.

The fire engine drove to the station while the ambulance and police car went to the hospital. Y/N sat in the back of the engine while Bobby drove and Buck sat in the passenger seat.

The latter turned around and looked at the girl, “So, who was that guy you were flirting with?”

Y/N furrowed her brows, “What guy? I wasn’t flirting with anyone.”

“The cop.” Buck elaborated, the girl shaking her head, “Yeah, we were just talking.”

“It looked like more than that.” Buck argued, “What’s his name?”

“You know what? Why does this matter to you?” She spat out, becoming annoyed with his attitude as they pulled into the firestation.

“Because, I…” He began, trailing off and not allowing his next words to come out.

Y/N scoffed, “Unbelieveable.”

And then she rushed out of the engine, missing the look that Bobby gave the blonde male as she went to her locker.

“Idiot.” The older male mumbled to the younger one, causing him to stare at Bobby in disbelief before they both got out of the vehicle.

Y/N angrily got her casual clothes out of her locker, changing and then slamming the metal door shut as Buck walked in.

“Look, Y/N, I just care about you and want you to be safe.” He said as he walked into the glass area.

“Want me to be safe?” She scoffed, “You’re talking about a cop.”

The blonde rolled his eyes, “That doesn’t mean anything. He could still be a jerk!”

“Well, he’s not the one I think is a jerk.” The girl retorted, glaring at him.

“Ok… I deserve that, but-” He began to say, only for her to interrupt him, “Buck, just stop. Why are you so bent out of shape about this anyways? You were flirting with Taylor the whole day and I didn’t complain to you about it even though it annoyed me! So why do you get to complain to me about someone, who wasn’t even flirting with me, giving me attention?”

“Wait- I wasn’t flirting with Taylor.” Buck stated, causing her to look at him, “What?”

“You said you were annoyed with me flirting with Taylor… I- I wasn’t flirting with her. I was just talking to her about the Albert and Veronica stuff because you and Eddie made it clear you didn’t want me to talk to you about it.” He told her.

The girl sighed, “Yeah, I’m sorry. I might’ve been too harsh about that.”

He shook his head, “No, I deserved it. You guys had to listen to me repeat myself multiple times and… I get what you were saying. I’m going to try and be less awkward with Albert about this.”

She smiled and nodded, “Good.”

“And… I’m sorry for bugging you about the cop guy.” He apologized, gaining a nod from Y/N as she grinned, “I appreciate the apology. I know your heart is in a good place, you just didn’t approach it very well.”

He nodded before they went silent, the male thinking about his next sentence while Y/N gathered her stuff, glancing at the entrance of the fire station and noticing the ambulance was pulling in.

“I gotta go talk to Chim, Eddie, and Hen about something, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” The girl smiled, beginning to walk out, but Buck quickly stopped her, “Wait.”

She turned around, raising her brows as an indicator for him to speak, “Why… why were you annoyed when you thought I was flirting with Taylor?”

Y/N just shook her head with a sigh, looking up and waving, not giving him an answer, “Bye, Buck.”

And then she walked out, the male watching her as she walked towards the ambulance.

The girl figured that he could think about it on his own and hopefully come to the correct conclusion.

The three that Y/N had mentioned earlier hopped out of the ambulance, the girl stopping in front of them and holding out her hands.

The trio looked at her with raised brows, and she quickly spoke to ease their confusion, “I won the bet. Mr. Nowels pushed him off the roof. Money, please!”

Then she made grabbing motion with her hands while the three in front of her laughed, Eddie speaking up, “I can’t believe you were right about that.”

Then the money was slammed into her palm from them, the girl grinning, “Thank you all and have a good night!”

She mock-saluted them before turning and walking out of the fire station.

-

The next day, Y/N walked into the fire station with a smile, ready for her shift for the day. 

The girl went to her locker, changing out of her casual clothes and into her fire station shirt along with her turnout pants, putting her gear suspenders over her shoulders.

“Hey, Y/N.” She heard a voice greet, the girl turning and sending a smile Buck’s way as he went to his locker, “Hey.”

“So, I’ve been thinking.” He stated, causing the girl to jokingly reply, “Oh no.”

He looked up at her with a small, joking, glare before continuing his sentence, “I think I figured out why you were annoyed.”

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the lockers, “Well, let’s hear it.”

“It’s because you were jealous.” He smirked, pointing at her before opening his locker and getting his stuff out.

The girl stood, waiting for him to continue. She pursed her lips as he said nothing else and she shrugged, “That’s it?”

He shook his head, “No. You were jealous because you… like me.” 

“Yeah. Apparently I’ve been pretty obvious about it, so I’m a bit surprised you just figured this out.” She said as Eddie walked in, “Actually, he didn’t. I told him.”

The girl looked at him with a dropped jaw, “What?”

And then she glanced back at Buck, who was sending a glare Eddie’s way before he quickly directed his attention back to the girl, “Anyways, with that said, are you doing anything later tonight?”

Y/N tilted her head, raising her brows, “No… why?”

“How about you come to my apartment? I can cook us dinner and we can watch a movie?” He suggested.

The girl grinned, “Is the Evan Buckley asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe. Depends on if you say yes or not.” He said with a small smile. The girl laughed and nodded, “Yes, that sounds great.”

“Finally.” Eddie muttered from behind them, having already changed into his clothes for the work day.

The duo that was just talking both rolled their eyes and turned to their friend, speaking in unison, “Shut up, Eddie.”

Eddie was about to speak before the siren went off, causing them to sigh, Hen peeking her head into the room, “Come on, slowpokes. Let’s go.”

The call rang out through the firestation, informing the group that they were on their way to a house to look for someone inside the walls. 

This meant they needed both the ambulance and the fire engine, so Hen and Chimney took the former while the rest of them piled into the latter.

Eddie and Bobby were in the front while Buck and Y/N were in the back, ready to head to the scene. Eddie turned around and faced his friends as Bobby drove, “So… what movie are you two planning on watching later?”

Y/N rolled her eyes as he wiggled his brows at them, Bobby furrowing his brows in confusion at the interaction while Buck replied, “I’m not sure yet.”

Then he turned to Y/N, “What movies do you like?”

The girl shrugged with pursed lips, “Pretty much anything. I’m a huge horror and comedy fan, though.”

He nodded with a grin while Bobby looked in the rearview mirror, “What’s this for?”

Before the two in the back could reply, Eddie did for them, “Oh, Buck finally asked Y/N out on a date. They���re gonna hang in his apartment and watch a movie.”

Bobby’s brows raised in slight surprise at the information before grinning, “Finally.”

The duos’ jaws dropped, the two replying in unison, “Really?”

Eddie just laughed while Bobby spoke, “Yeah, It’s about time. I can see the way you two look at each other. It was pretty obvious.”

“Okay, no, I might’ve been obvious, but this guy was not!” Y/N argued, pointing at Buck who just shrugged in response.

“Yes, he was. I just think you’re both oblivious.” Bobby said as they pulled into the driveway of the house they were going to enter.

“Hey!” The two shouted at their captain, taking offense to his words. Bobby quickly hopped out of the fire engine, wanting to avoid more words from the duo as they both glanced at each other with shocked looks on their faces, Eddie chuckling as he got out of the passenger door.

Buck stood up and went out, holding a hand for the girl behind him. Y/N gratefully took his hand, hopping down from the engine in her turnouts. 

The group all put their masks on as Bobby shouted, “Buck, grab the saw, the rest of you, head inside.” 

The members of the 118 obeyed their captain, except for Buck who was doing as he was told, quickly following behind him as he grabbed a heat signature camera.

They made their way inside and Athena heard them, shouting to alert them of the room she was in. They team walked into the room, noticing the wife was sat in a chair, hands cuffed behind her back with an officer standing behind her as Buck jogged into the room with the large tool in his hand.

“Kinky.” Y/N muttered jokingly, the group looking at her with deadpanned expressions at her words while the wife scoffed.

“What?” The girl asked, Bobby rolling his eyes before turning to his wife and pulling out the heat signature camera, turning it on and scanning the walls by the window.

He looked through the lens, noticing a figure on the screen that was moving, “I’ve got movement.”

“What?” The wife behind them questioned, causing the group to turn towards her, “He’s still alive?”

Once she noticed their expressions, she was quick to change up her words, “I mean… great!”

“Why don’t you start by telling me how exactly your husband got behind that wall?” Athena asked with raised brows.

“Ex-husband. Or at least, soon to be. He filed right before the pandemic-” The wife began to explain, talking about how the courts closed and they were trapped in a house together during COVID. 

Buck raised his brows, leaning in towards Y/N, “If this date doesn’t go the way you expect, do you promise to not put me inside the walls?”

The girl shrugged with a smirk, “No promises.”

Buck turned to Hen, “You heard that right? You’re my witness if something happens to me.”

The woman turned away from him, pursing her lips and feigning confusion, “What did I hear? I didn’t hear anything.”

Y/N grinned, holding up a fist for Hen to fist bump, which she did. Buck’s jaw dropped in disbelief, “Wow.”

After the woman finished explaining her story, Chimney and Hen ran to get their medical supplies while Eddie went and grabbed the needed items to get behind the brick wall.

Once they returned, Eddie handed Buck the chisel and a hammer, giving one to Bobby as well. The duo quickly began hammering away at the bricks in their weak spots, waiting for when they were loose to pull them away. Slowly, a hole began to form in the wall, Bobby yanking the bricks from their position and dropping them onto the ground behind him, “I think I can see him!”

Once the hole was big enough, Y/N knelt down and reached her hand towards the male, “Can you give me your hand, sir?”

She grabbed his wrist as he reached towards her, the girl gently beginning to pull him out, Buck coming to assist her. “You got him, Buck?” She asked as he reached and grabbed the male’s other hand.

“Yeah, we’re good.” He replied, the girl nodding, “Okay, ready, set-” 

“Go.” She then said, both of them tugging him through the hole and onto the backboard.

Y/N was quick to put on medical gloves while Eddie began checking for a pulse and if the male was breathing or not with his stethoscope, “He’s breathing, but barely. Only one side of his chest is rising.”

Y/N reached under the male before pulling her gloved hand back, showing the blood on it, “Stab wound.”

Eddie nodded, “He probably has a punctured lung.”

“Looks like he lost a ton of blood, not to mention extreme dehydration.” Hen said, getting the bag from her medkit, “I’m gonna run two lines wide open.”

“Alright, let’s get him stabilized and prepped for transport.” Bobby ordered, watching over the group as they did what was necessary.

Once they were done, Chimney and Eddie lifted the backboard and began to walk out of the house, Y/N noticing that the other officer that was there had taken the wife away.

The rest of the group began gathering their other tools before returning to the fire engine and putting everything away, the ambulance heading to the hospital while the engine went back to the station.

-

Once the shift was over, Y/N headed to her locker, doing her quick routine of getting back into her casual clothes so that she could leave.

Buck walked in and smiled at her, the girl giving him a grin back as she put her work necessities in her locker, “So… what time should I get to your place?”

“How does 7 sound?” He asked her, opening his locker and taking his shirt off so that he could change.

The girl’s eyes trailed down before she heard Buck laugh, Y/N quickly bringing her gaze up and noticing that he had caught her. She cleared her throat, “7 sounds great.”

“Great.” He grinned, finishing what he needed to do. He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before sending a wink her way and walking out the door, “See you then!”

Y/N’s cheeks turned red as Hen walked into the locker room and spotted the girl standing there, looking dazed. “Someone’s blushing.” The woman stated with a cheeky smirk.

Y/N threw her dirty shirt at Hen in response, causing the woman to laugh and throw it back at her before the former walked out of the locker room with her keys in hand, going to her apartment to prepare for her date.

-

Y/N took the elevator up to Buck’s floor, the girl wearing a dark blue dress that reached her mid-thigh, a black sweater wrapped around her shoulders. She slung her small purse over her shoulder as the elevator reached his floor, Y/N quickly stepping out in her black heels and walking to his door.

Once she reached his apartment, she lifted her hand, knocking on the dark wood and waiting for Buck to answer the door.

Instead of Buck, though, his roommate answered, Y/N smiling at him, “Hey, Albert, what’s up?”

“Nothing much. Buck didn’t mention that you were the one he was dating.” Albert commented, “He’s in the bathroom right now.”

The girl nodded, walking into the door as he stepped to the side, “It’s been a while since i’ve seen you. It’s nice to see…”

She trailed off as her eyes met with the girl in the kitchen, her brows furrowing in confusion.

Buck stepped into the room as Albert introduced the woman, noticing Y/N’s confusion, “Oh, that’s Veronica.”

“Well it’s nice to see you and Veronica, Albert.” Y/N muttered with a clenched jaw, making eye contact with Buck as he gave her a sheepish glance.

“Dinner’s not ready yet, but it should be soon.” Buck told his date, trying to act normal as the girl made eye contact with Albert’s girlfriend once more.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Veronica asked with a smile, Y/N quickly nodding, “Yes, please. I could desperately use a glass right about now.”

Then the girl placed her bag on the table as Buck came over, placing a hand on the small of her back, “Uh.. shall we?”

He gestured over to the couch, Y/N moving so that his hand slipped off of her as she made her way to the piece of furniture.

“You lied to me.” She muttered as he followed, the male shaking his head, “Technically… I didn’t. I-”

She stopped walking, turning and facing him with an angry glare, her eyes growing watery but she wouldn’t dare to let her tears fall- at least not right now, “That’s not the point, Evan. You failed to mention that this was going to be a double date with ‘bad date girl’ and your roommate. I kind of count that as lying.”

The girl then continued making her way to the couch, muttering under her breath as she took a seat, “I wouldn’t have said yes if I knew you were just going to be using me.”

Buck looked at her like a deer in headlights, opening his mouth to speak but not getting the chance to spit a word out as Veronica and Albert walked back over, the former speaking as she handed Y/N her wine glass, “Dinner is going to take a few more minutes, but I figured we could do appetizers while we wait.”

She then sat down, Y/N quickly taking a sip out of her glass as Veronica spoke up once more, “How long have you two been dating?”

“I was wondering that too, Buck. How come you never said anything? Y/N’s awesome!” Albert chimed in, Y/N immediately giving him a response before Buck could speak, “Oh, that’s because we aren’t dating. He just wanted me here so he wouldn’t be a third wheel. We’re just friends.” 

She then looked at the male next to her, “Right?”

Evan avoided her question, looking at Veronica as he began to talk, “We actually work together. She’s been my partner-in-crime for as long as I can remember.”

“I’d gladly let Eddie take that spot now.” The girl murmured quietly before looking up and smiling at the duo in front of her, “And I know how you two met. Buck has told me about it. Quite a few times, actually.”

The male beside her shook his head, “I- I wouldn’t say that-”

Veronica just looked at them with raised brows as Albert chimed in, gesturing to his girlfriend and his roommate, “I’m actually surprised you two didn’t get along.”

Y/N took a long gulp from her glass before nodding, and nudging Buck with her shoulder, “Yeah. This guy sometimes doesn’t know how to act around women. His ego deflates when someone doesn’t immediately like him.”

“Yeah, I don’t stroke anyones’ egos. That’s not my thing.” Veronica replied with a small shrug, causing Y/N to nod, “Good for you. I think I’m going to try that also.”

She then set the glass down, pulling her phone out from her sweater pocket as her tears were about to spill over. Y/N cleared her throat, standing up as she lied, “Sorry, my coworker, Eddie, just texted me. It’s an emergency and he needs someone to watch his son last minute. I gotta go.”

The girl then pocketed her phone once more, smiling at the pair in front of her, “It was nice seeing you again, Albert- and it was nice meeting you, Veronica.”

“You too.” She heard them say from behind her as she rushed to grab her purse, opening the apartment door and wiping her eyes as she began to walk towards the elevator.

“Y/N- Y/N, wait!” Buck yelled from behind her, the girl listening as his footsteps sped down the hallway, “I know Eddie didn’t actually text you, okay? It’s not what you think!”

She turned, looking up at the ceiling to prevent the water from spilling from her eyes and once she felt that it wouldn’t, she looked back down at him, “What? That you never actually wanted to go on a date with me and that you were just using my feelings for you to get them to see you with someone? Fuck you.”

Then the girl turned back around, Buck quickly grabbing onto her wrist and turning her back towards him, “No- it’s not like that-”

Y/N yanked her wrist from his grasp, “Don’t- Don’t touch me. You… God, I mean, you decided to hurt me just because you can’t stand the idea of someone not liking you? Are you serious?”

“No, that’s- I mean…” He shrugged with a false smile, “Come on, I’m very likeable.”

The girl stood there in silence, swallowing the lump in her throat as a tear finally made it’s way down her face. Buck sighed, glancing off to the side before making eye contact with her, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? Look, Albert invited me over and I knew it was gonna be super awkward, and I didn’t want to sit through that alone. So I asked a friend.”

Y/N gave him a watery smile, “Right. A friend. ‘Cause that’s all I am to you.”

She sniffled as Buck’s heart dropped, the girl wiping her tears before speaking once more, “You could’ve just told me the situation and then asked me as a friend. You didn’t have to lie about having feelings for me.”

A scoff left her lips, the girl continuing, “I mean… If this is how you decide to treat your ‘friends’, maybe the problem isn’t Albert.”

Her eyes met his, “Maybe it’s you.”

Then she turned, walking away from him, hoping he’d say something as she left…

But he said nothing.

So she continued on her way, getting into the elevator and letting the doors close before her tears began to run down her face at a faster pace.

Y/N pulled out her phone as the elevator doors opened to the lobby, the girl pulling up Eddie’s contact, about to hit the call button- but her phone rang before she could.

She raised her brows as she noticed it was the man she was about to call, Y/N hitting answer and bringing the phone to her ear, “Hey, I was just about to-”

He cut her off as he began speaking in a panicked tone, “I need your help, Chris is missing and-”

Her jaw dropped at the words, the girl turning and making her way towards the building exit, but she quickly stopped in her tracks as Chris walked through the lobby doors.

Eddie was still rambling on the other side of the line, Y/N cutting him off so that she could let him know his son was safe, “Eddie, he’s here.”

“At Buck’s place?” He asked on the other side of the line, Y/N nodding even though he couldn’t see her as she replied, “Yeah. He’s here.”

“Okay, I’ll be there to get him soon.”

And then he hung up, Y/N wiping her face before she walked towards the kid who was making his way towards the elevators, “Chris, what are you doing here?”

“I had a fight with my dad. I came here to see Buck.” He informed her, the girl nodding and hitting the up button to the elevator, “Okay, I’ll take you up to him. You can’t run off like this though, your dad is worried sick.”

“Did you talk to him?” The kid asked her, glancing up as they entered the elevator. She nodded, “Yeah, he called me just as you walked in. He’s coming to get you. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He sighed, the adult next to him humming in acknowledgement as they reached Buck’s floor, the duo leaving the elevator and walking to his apartment.

Chris knocked on the door, the girl next to him beginning to walk away, but the kid turned to her, “Wait, where are you going?”

She sighed, “Buck and I aren’t really on good terms right now, buddy. I just wanted to make sure you got here safe.”

Buck opened the door as Chris replied, “I want you to stay.”

“Want who to st-” The older male began to ask before he peeked out of the door and noticed who he was talking about, “-oh.”

“Fine.” The woman muttered, walking into the apartment behind Chris, noticing that Albert and Veronica were now gone and it was just them three in the living space.

“Does your dad know you’re here, Chris?” The male asked the child, who was quick to respond, “Yes, he called Y/N.”

Buck then looked at the girl for confirmation, her nodding in response, “He called me as I was leaving to ask for help finding Chris, but he was walking into the building. Eddie is on his way to pick him up.”

He pursed his lips and then looked at Chris as the said kid sat on the couch, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Chris shook his head as Buck sat on the table, Y/N leaning against the wall near the TV, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, you’re here, so we gotta talk about something.” He said to the child, using a gentle tone with him. Once Chris didn’t reply, Buck sighed, speaking once more, “Come on, look, you were there for me when I needed to talk, so now I want to be here for you. It’s what friends do.”

Y/N scoffed under her breath at that, the action not going unnoticed by Buck as Chris replied, “Dad’s dating.”

The girl gave him a sympathetic look as Buck continued to interact with the boy, “Yeah, that’s gotta be weird for you, huh? Maybe it feels like he’s forgetting your mom, but, Chris, I promise you-”

Chris sighed, interrupting the male, “I wish I could forget.”

Y/N pushed off the wall at that and moved closer, sitting on the table next to Buck and talking to Chris, “What do you mean by that, bud?”

“People go away. Not just mom.” He stated sadly, “Abuelita, Carla, my friends… they leave, and then I miss them. I don’t want to miss anyone else.”

The adults in front of him nodded in acknowledgement, sad looks on their faces as Buck spoke again, “Yeah, um… people- people go away… and i-it’s sad, and it hurts. But, you know, not everyone goes away for forever. Sometimes they come back, and as much as we miss them, that’s how happy we are seeing them again. Your grandma, your friends, Carla… you’re gonna see them all again.”

“Do you promise?” Chris asked.

“I do. And until that happens, you still got us.” Buck replied, gesturing to him and the girl next to him, Y/N sending a small smile Chris’ way and nodding in agreement as she spoke, “We aren’t going anywhere.”

Chris got up, opening his arms and pulling the two adults into a hug. One of Buck’s arms wrapped around Chris while the other wound around Y/N, the young boy’s head in between both of theirs.

“You guys are good friends.” The kid said to them, his arms hanging around their shoulders.

Buck glanced at Y/N over Chris’ back and spoke, “Yeah… sometimes.”

He then patted his back and pulled away, Y/N giving Chris one last final squeeze before doing the same, a knock coming on the door soon after.

All of them stood up, Buck going to the door and opening it, Eddie quickly rushing in.

Once his eyes locked on Chris, he moved forwards, encasing his son in a hug and muttering to him, “Don’t run away like that again, okay? You can’t scare me like that.”

Chris nodded into his shoulder, “I’m sorry, dad.”

“It’s okay, bud.” He replied, pulling away from the hug and standing up, “Let’s go home, okay?”

The kid nodded and Y/N smiled at the duo before looking at the younger boy, “Tell him what you told us. He’ll understand.”

Chris nodded once more, grabbing his crutches and making his way towards the door while Eddie looked at his friends, “Thank you guys.”

And then they went to walk out, Eddie turning around and speaking once again, “You’ll have to let me know how the date went later, okay?”

Y/N pursed her lips while Buck sent a smile his way, the door closing behind the father-son duo.

“Well, I’m gonna go also.” The girl then said, pulling her sweater closer to her frame in an attempt to close herself off as she began to walk towards the door.

“Or… you could stay? And we can try this again?” The male spoke, stepping in front of her in an attempt to stop her from leaving.

She sighed, “Look, you don’t have to pretend to have feelings for me just because you-”

He was quick to cut her off, “It’s not pretend. I’m sorry for making it seem like it was, and I’m sorry for earlier. I do have feelings for you and I should’ve asked you out on a first date a long time ago. I know I messed up tonight, but let me try to make it right, okay? With just us two. If you still hate me later, you never have to talk to me again. I’ll transfer firehouses and be out of your sight for forever.”

Y/N huffed, setting her purse down on the table, “Fine, and even if I hate you by the end of this, which is impossible because I could never hate you- even after what happened earlier, I’d never make you do that. I know how much the 118 means to you.”

He just smiled at her and nodded, one of his hands grabbing her own, “So? What do you want to eat?”

He dragged her to the kitchen, opening the pantry and showing her the stuff he had and giving her an idea of what could be made.

She pursed her lips, “How about we just have some takeout delivered? And watch a movie like we were talking about earlier today?”

Buck squeezed her hand, “Sounds perfect.”

Then he kissed her cheek before making a call to her favorite takeout place while she picked the movie they would watch.

She didn’t notice, but Buck watched as she sat on his couch, making herself at home while she picked the movie.

And he couldn’t help but think how nice this sight would be to see everyday.

[d-z20]

A Taste of Obedience (NSFW)

Pairing: Avis Amberg x Reader

Summary: Working as Avis Amberg’s assistant means following her every command—always poised, always obedient, always under her thumb. But when she pulls you aside at a gala, you quickly learn that serving her extends far beyond your day job

-OR-

You get to fuck your boss in her dressing room before heading back to the party with a promise of more

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, power bottom Avis, service top reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, slight dom/sub dynamics, oral/cunnilingus (A recv), R masturbating while fucking A, orgasm denial(ish), 'good girl' used for R

Words: 1.8k

A/N: Her dress is kind of inspired by her silk robe from the scene in this gif (I may or may not have watched this gif on repeat for 5 solid minutes because 🫠🫠)

AO3 | Masterlist

You have always known your place with Avis Amberg.

You are her assistant, her shadow, the one who ensures everything runs smoothly, from scheduling meetings with studio executives to keeping her martini glass full at every high-profile event. You anticipate her needs before she even speaks them, standing just close enough to be seen but never so close as to overstep. Avis Amberg is a woman who commands a room without raising her voice, a woman who men fear and women envy. And you? You know better than to let your feelings cloud your judgement.

But tonight, she's playing a dangerous game. And she's winning.

The Ace Studios Annual Gala is a spectacle of wealth and power, an evening where the biggest names in Hollywood come together in a grand ballroom to toast each other with carefully measured smiles and whispered secrets. You’ve spent the night at Avis’s side, watching her work the room with effortless charm, exuding elegance in a black silk gown. Every so often, she looks at you—not with the distant acknowledgement she usually reserves for hired help, but with something sharper.

It starts with the fleeting touches. The accidental brush of her fingers against your wrist as she hands you her empty glass. The slow, dragging gaze that lingers just a moment too long. The way her lips quirk upward whenever she catches you staring, amusement flickering in her eyes as if she knows exactly what you’re fantasising about.

And then, at the peak of the evening, when the champagne has loosened the room’s inhibitions and the music swells, she leans in close, her breath warm against your cheek. Her voice is low, just for you.

“You've been staring at me all night, sweetheart. You better do something about it.”

Your breath catches, fingers tightening around the stem of your empty glass. Your mind races, searching for the right response, for the careful line you know you should not cross.

Before you could think better of it, before you could remind yourself of all the reasons why this was a very bad idea, she was already walking away, expecting you to follow.

And so you did.

She led you down a dimly lit corridor backstage, the sounds of the gala growing muffled as she slipped into a dressing room. The door quietly shut behind you, sealing the two of you away from the glittering world outside.

Avis leaned against the vanity, one manicured hand tracing idle patterns against the cool surface as she regarded you with amusement.

"Tell me, darling," she says, reaching up to unclasp the diamond necklace resting against her collarbone. "Did you really think I hadn’t noticed the way you look at me?"

You swallow hard, heart pounding as she sets the necklace aside, her fingers moving with slow, deliberate precision. "I—" You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to answer when she’s watching you like that, like she already knows every thought running through your head.

"Speechless? How rare." She beckons you closer with her finger. "And here I thought you were good with words."

Your mouth goes dry as she reaches for your hand, guiding it to the bare skin of her collarbone. Your fingers twitch at the warmth of her, the soft pulse beneath your touch.

"On your knees for me."

The command sends a shiver down your spine. You hesitate for a fraction of a second, but the look in her eyes told you she would not repeat herself.

Slowly, deliberately, you sink to your knees before her, the cool tile grounding you, even as your head swims with anticipation. Your hands trace the slit in her dress, pushing the silk aside, revealing the smooth, warm skin of her thighs.

Before you can move further, a finger curls under your chin, forcing your gaze upwards.

"Slowly," she instructs, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "Make it worth my time."

She drags the moment out, watching the way your breathing changes, the way your fingers tremble against her skin. You know she enjoys this—the power, the tension, the way she can make you ache without even touching you.

Your lips brush against her inner thigh, soft at first, barely there, just a tease. One of her hands threads through your hair, fingers tightening just enough to make you shiver.

You take your time, trailing slow, lingering touches up the soft skin of her thigh, your mouth leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. You nip at her skin, just enough to earn a sharp inhale, followed by a quiet hum of approval. You soothe the spot with your tongue, letting your hands drift up to grip her thighs, feeling the way they tense beneath your touch.

Your lips ghost over the sensitive skin where her thigh meets her hip, your breath warm against her. She exhales slowly, almost like she’s daring herself to remain composed, to keep from demanding. But then your tongue flicks against her clit—soft at first, a deliberate taste before pressing in deeper.

Avis sighs, tilting her head back against the mirror, her grip tightening in your hair. You feel her hips shift, subtle but purposeful, urging you forward. You indulge her, flicking your tongue again before sucking lightly, revelling in the way her thighs quiver slightly beneath your hands.

A soft, measured moan escapes her lips, but she never fully loses herself, her composure wrapped around her like the silk of her gown. Still, her breath hitches when you push your face further into her crotch, your tongue working with practiced precision, pulling her apart bit by bit.

“That’s it, darling.” Her voice is breathless, but her tone remains steady, a purr of satisfaction. Her fingers briefly tighten in your hair again as a subtle warning. “I know you can do better than that, though.”

You redouble your efforts, eager to prove her right. Your tongue moves with purpose, stroking and circling in a way you know will drive her arousal higher, pushing her closer to the edge. Her thighs tighten around your head, trapping you between the warmth of her, her breath coming in faster, more uneven gasps. The telltale signs of her pleasure are there, but still, she maintains control, never fully letting go.

The ache between your own thighs grows unbearable, a hot, throbbing pulse of need that only worsens with every moan she lets slip past her lips. Your body is reacting on instinct, heat pooling between your legs, soaking the fabric between your thighs. You squeeze them together, desperate for any kind of friction, any relief. The sensation is hardly enough, but it sends a shiver through you all the same, making you moan softly against her skin.

It’s these soft added vibrations that catch Avis’s attention.

“Touch yourself,” she commands, her voice rougher now, edged with something dangerously indulgent. “But don’t forget what you’re supposed to be doing.”

A fresh wave of arousal rushes through you, sharp and all-consuming. Your hand trembles as it slips between your legs, pressing firmly against the damp heat waiting there. The moment you grind against your own palm, a needy gasp escapes your lips, muffled against her. The sudden movement of air sends a shudder through her body, and for the first time, you feel her thighs properly shake and you know she’s feeling this just as much as you are.

The power of it, the rush of knowing you’re the one unravelling her, makes you reckless. Dizzy even. You focus on your own pleasure for just a moment too long, your fingers pressing harder against yourself, your hips moving in small, desperate thrusts. Your moans grow louder, more urgent, nearly overtaking hers as pleasure coils in your stomach, building so fast you can’t even think about stopping.

And then there’s a sharp tug at your hair.

Avis yanks your head back, breaking you out of your own haze, her grip firm to remind you who’s in charge and whose pleasure this is about. Her breath is heavy, her eyes dark as she gazes down at you, but there’s no mistaking the authority in her voice when she speaks.

“Don’t get distracted, sweetheart.” Her tone is cool. “I cum first. Understood?”

Shame and arousal mix in equal measure, making your skin flush hot. “Yes, ma’am,” you whisper, lips still slick, your own pleasure momentarily abandoned as you refocus completely on her.

A smirk plays at the corners of her lips. “Good girl.”

And just like that, you’re back exactly where she wants you because Avis Amberg never loses control.

She dictates every movement with soft hums of approval, tilting your chin up when she wants you to meet her gaze, holding you there as if daring you to fall apart before she does. Even as her breath hitches, even as her fingers curl against the vanity, she remains poised, composed—Avis Amberg to the very end.

Her nails scrape against your scalp, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her thighs quaking around you. You know she’s close to climaxing when she lets her head fall back with a whimper—a rare slip in her composure. But just before she can let go completely, she catches herself, her grip tightening, pulling you harder against her as she comes apart.

Her moan is low and devastating, her body shuddering against your mouth. She rides it out with a grace that is infuriatingly effortless, even now, even in the throes of pleasure.

But as she exhales, coming down from her high, the fire burning in your own body is impossible to ignore. The ache between your legs is unbearable now, the lingering taste of her on your tongue only making it worse. Your free hand presses harder against yourself, hips rolling into your palm as a quiet whimper slips past your lips. It doesn’t take much—just the residual pleasure, the heat of the moment, the power of knowing what you just did to her—to make the tension inside you snap, pleasure crashing through you in a shuddering wave that has your breath stalling, your moan muffled against the soft skin of her thigh.

Avis chuckles amusedly.

“How greedy of you,” she hums, her fingers brushing through your hair in lazy, absent strokes. “Barely finished with me, and already chasing your own pleasure.”

You blink up at her, blushing profusely, the remnants of your orgasm still pulsing through your limbs, making you tremble slightly as you try to collect yourself. She lets you stay there for a moment, basking in the aftershocks of it all, before she leans forward, her fingers tilting your chin up once more, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“You did well, darling,” she praises, her voice still thick with pleasure. “But next time, I expect even better.”

Then, just like that, she releases you. Steps away. Smooths out her dress like nothing happened, her composure restored, and her power reclaimed. She fixes her hair in the vanity mirror, dabs at the corner of her lips with a manicured finger, and reaches for the door handle.

"I expect you to be at my house by midnight," she says, not looking back.

And then she’s gone, leaving you breathless, ruined, and desperately waiting for whatever comes next.

-----

I sort of want to do future Avis fics where reader takes control from and Avis where A discovers she actually enjoys it. She's always had to control so much for appearances sake so never really had someone know her in that way and never let someone get close enough to try until reader and also getting more like exhibitionism stuff staircase scene who?

-----

taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights

[grenadehearts]

don't forget to kiss me, or else yuji.itadori

in which your bf is even more awk then you..

authors note: f!reader so scared 2 post this.. i feel like its so ugh also not proofread! 2.2k words! m.list <3

You and Yuji were always so awkward around each other, to the point that it led to completely red faces and twitching fingers.

Sure, he was a lot more outspoken with strangers and friends, while you were always on the quieter side. And when you did get comfortable with someone, you tended to talk too much.

You envied Yuji a bit. He always knew exactly what to say, and even when he didn’t, he had the charm to make it work anyway. But it was more than that—he had this boyish charm that sent you reeling, making you kick your feet in your dorm room late at night, squealing into your pillow while playing Beabadoobee on repeat, thinking of him.

You still remember the first time you saw him—pink hair, wide brown eyes, and the cutest smile ever. You were smitten from the beginning. Too shy to talk to him, though. Then, during a mission, you had been paired up with him and Nanami. He kept trying to talk to you, making funny remarks or simply attempting conversation. At one point, he had stared at you, scrunching his face in pure confusion, as if analyzing some small detail. Then he pointed to the corner of your eye, where your glitter eyeshadow shimmered, and said, "That's really pretty." All while rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish smile.

He was the only person who ever really talked to you—aside from the forced interactions Gojo pushed onto others. You figured there had to be something wrong with you. You were too odd, always saying the wrong thing, laughing at the wrong time, tripping over your own two feet. No matter what, you never seemed to fit in or draw anyone’s attention.

That was until you met Yuji.

Even after that compliment—after the pale pink dusting your cheeks at this super cute, jacked boy noticing you—it still didn’t feel real. This only happened in shoujo anime, right? Yet, despite your awkwardness, despite the way you choked on a simple thank you like you were forcing down thick cherry cough syrup, Yuji just laughed it off. A deep chuckle that reverberated through his body and yours—light, airy, utterly intoxicating. You wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of your life.

He had rambled about makeup, specifically special effects makeup, explaining how he was a huge movie lover. Then he got super engrossed in talking about the behind-the-scenes aspects of some of his favorite films—Human Earthworm, which, he eagerly added, was a trilogy.

You barely said a word, too shy to contribute much. But he didn’t seem to mind. It was like all he wanted was someone to listen.

A few days after that mission, you had been speed-walking out of class after an awful day. Some girl from a higher-up class had made crude remarks about your appearance, and you swallowed them down like bile, trying to ignore them. But you had barely managed to hold it together because, later that morning, you had to present in front of everyone. Your hands were clammy, your words tumbling out like a mess of jumbled up alphabet soup, and the tiny class of sorcerers had laughed at your mishaps.

Then, not even twenty minutes later, some guy knocked into you, spilling your matcha all over your clean uniform. And, oh yeah—did I mention you had spent your last seven dollars on that matcha?

You grabbed your leather tote bag—buckles adorned with a Nana keychain, your purple jellyfish Sonny Angel peeking out for good luck—and rushed out of the classroom doors, heading across the open field back to the dorms.

Then, a strong hand and a voice too sweet to ignore stopped you in your tracks.

"Hey! Hey! You, uh, dropped thi—actually, I’m not sure what this is... A naked baby, it looks like? But it fell out of your bag."

Your entire body froze. Your heart pounded in your chest. You knew that voice.

Yuji Itadori. The sweetest, kindest boy ever. The boy you had a massive crush on. The boy who absolutely could not see you in the state you were in.

Panicking, you turned around, clutching your purse up to your face, burying yourself behind it in a weak attempt to hide your tear-streaked, mascara-smudged disaster of a face.

Yuji blinked, looking around the empty courtyard, then up at the clear blue sky, as if trying to understand what you were even hiding from.

"Hey, uh—"

"Ilooksgrossrightnowthatswhyimhidingmyface," you blurted out in one breath, voice muffled behind your bag.

Yuji just laughed—a full, lighthearted fit of laughter. "It's okay, but I think you’re always pretty."

Your grip on your purse loosened slightly, your face still half-hidden as you peeked at him through your lashes. "You do?"

He gave a sheepish nod. "Yeah." Then, after a beat, in a soft, hesitant voice, he asked, "Can I see your face? Um, uh—if that's okay with you or whatever."

He paused, then quickly added, "We can count to three if that helps?"

You swallowed hard and gave a tiny nod.

His hands hovered slightly before reaching out, hesitant but warm. "Can I, uh... help you with it?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but he seemed to hear it anyway. You nodded again.

His fingers wrapped gently around your wrists, steady and firm but not forceful. Then, with a soft countdown—"Three... two... one..."—he lowered your hands, revealing the mess that was your face.

Your beet-red cheeks. Your raccoon-like mascara stains.

Yuji’s eyes widened slightly as you hiccuped, trying desperately to suck in the snot threatening to form a bubble.

"My face is beet red, isn't it?"

He let out another laugh, this time softer. "Yeah... but so is mine."

You blinked, taking in his expression. The dusting of pink on the tips of his ears, the slight blush running up his nose, the way his eyes crinkled nervously.

You quickly began to rub at the smeared mascara around your eyes, flustered, when he hesitated—then took a tiny step closer.

"I can help?" he offered, voice quieter than before.

You nodded, unable to speak past your pounding heartbeat.

With delicate care, he lifted the sleeve of his uniform and gently wiped away the mess on your face.

Ever since that day, you and Yuji hung out more and more. He even introduced you to his friends, and you and Nobara quickly became best friends—though she heavily expressed her distaste for you dating Yuji, simply because “he’s gross, and you’re too good for him.”

Yuji was loud, outspoken, and seemingly everywhere at once, yet when he was alone with you, he was different. He was quieter—more hesitant.

Laying on your cramped twin bed, adorned with every single plushie he had ever won for you in the two months of dating, he looked so much softer. Your shabby dorm room at Jujutsu High was practically his at this point—he never left, always finding some excuse to be curled up next to you, legs tangled, warmth mingling between your bodies. Whether it was coming in late from a mission, all beat up so you sat him on your toilet to bandage his wounds because you knew he wouldn’t care enough to do it himself, or a simple, “I miss you.. and the way you smell.”

But despite this level of comfort and closeness, you were both still utterly awkward around each other. Even now, lying in bed with your pinkies barely ghosting the space between, desperate to touch but too afraid to bridge the gap. Sure, you’d wake up tangled together as Yuji hogged the covers, but that was always after exhaustion had taken over—when neither of you had the energy to be nervous. But this? This was different. You were both awake, wide awake, too aware of every movement the other made. The soft shuffle of his weight against the bed, the slight twitch of your fingers, the low whirring of the crappy fan in your room, the faint vibration of his unchecked phone.

Yuji only ever got notifications when they were important, and you both knew that. But he didn’t care. It was like nothing else existed outside this moment. Whoever needed him would have to stomp into this room and physically drag him away from the dim glow of your orange-pink lamp, from the scent of your perfume clinging to the sheets he was laying on.

When seconds felt like hours, you finally turned to Yuji to say something—anything to break the tension. But just your luck, he turned at the exact same time.

His brown eyes bore into yours like he could reach in and grab your very soul with gentle hands, rewriting your entire being if he chose. You both stared, studying every subtle movement, every shift in expression, until the weight of it became too much. Suddenly, you were both too aware of each other.

The weight of it had both of you snapping your heads away, blushes creeping up your necks.

Yuji was always an awkward mess when he was alone with you— from fidgeting with the hem of his red Jujutsu hoodie, to walking around your room picking up random objects and pretending to be interested, like a kid trying to play coy.

 He’d constantly go to grab your hand, only to let it fall last minute. He was completely different from how he was around others.

And now, here you both were—blushing, internally panicking over each other—until, when you turned to face him again, he was already hovering over you, peering down as if you were a fish in a fishbowl. You sucked in a breath, eyes wide, and whatever confidence he had for that split second disappeared in an instant. Because now, seeing you up close, so close he could count every speckle of glitter from your makeup, he lost all nerve and buried his face straight into the crook of your neck.

Which only made things worse.

Your shampoo, your perfume—the warm, sugary scent of it all sent his mind reeling. It made him want to kiss you even more than he already did, which, at this point, felt nearly impossible. He had been waiting for the right time, telling himself over and over that it had to be perfect. But the truth was, he had been thinking about it for months—spacing out in class, staring at your lips, wondering if they tasted like strawberries from the gloss you always wore.

And now here he was, completely surrounded by your scent, his hands twitching with the urge to pull you closer.

Before you could think, your fingers moved on their own, shaking slightly as they inched toward his hair, aching to tangle in his soft pink strands. But just as you moved, Yuji suddenly lifted his head, mustering every ounce of courage before blurting out in one rushed breath:

“Ireallywannakissyoucani?”

Then, immediately after, he smacked his hands over his face.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, heart hammering in your chest as you whispered, “Yuu…”

Slowly, you reached for his wrists, gently prying his hands away from his face. His skin was warm under your touch, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. You didn’t have to say the rest—he already knew what you wanted.

He pulled his hands from yours, biting at his lip as he laced his fingers with yours instead, pinning your hand to the pillow above you. He shifted, slotting his leg over yours, his other hand lifting to cradle your cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin.

Your eyes flickered over his face, watching every shift in his expression as he leaned closer, breath mingling with yours.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured, voice low, almost reverent.

He leaned in, inch by inch, breath mingling with yours. But before closing the gap, he hesitated. “You sure this is okay?”

You didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, you curled your fingers into the nape of his neck, tugging him forward, crashing your lips against his.

And it was everything.

The kind of kiss that made you slam your door shut before sliding down it in a fit of giggles.

His lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly of brown sugar. It sent your stomach swirling, the kind of feeling that made your chest ache in the best way possible.

When he pulled back slightly, a thin trail of saliva still connected you, his pink cheeks flushed, eyes lidded, like he needed to look at you just to make sure this was real.

Then, with newfound confidence, he kissed you again.

This time, when his tongue slid past your lips—hesitant, waiting for permission—you let him in without a second thought. The sensation sent a shiver up your spine, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped you. That sound alone had Yuji’s other hand moving from your face to your waist to grip your body closer to his. 

Kissing Yuji was like ladybugs dancing on your skin. Like the jingle of the ice cream truck on a summer afternoon. Like the mist from a sprinkler lapping at your feet on a hot summer day as a child when your only care was scoring the best popsicle flavour. Like the first sip of hot chocolate when it grazes your tongue and cocoons your body in warmth, as you come in from the bitter sting of the cold. It was like being wrapped in blankets cozied up with a book. The only sound echoing is the pitter of the rain on the window.

It was everything good, everything sweet, like the taste of cotton candy melting on your tongue.

p.s if u realized the title was a bea lyric then ily mwahhh

[thatbitchery]

When it comes to self love, mass failure stems from the idea that to love yourself is to 'become the ideal'. Which is again rooted in the absolute bs that's morality and the need to be a 'good girl'

To love yourself is to act in your best interests. What you're looking for with the self care aka intensive grooming that makes no sense? and alo sets and God knows what is to like yourself, ant it will never work because you are actively working against the principle of the thing. You can not like yourself when you are actively working against said self. Actively working to unbecome said self into a version you have decided is much more likeable. This is like if your girlfriend / wife said I want to like you by turning you into Tina from the office she is perfect she dresses this way the does this and that and ugh she- see that? See how that feels? See how that does not work? Exactly? It's not working because you're not trying to like yourself you're trying to become something you could admire.

So. Ramble time, try to keep up.

When it comes to loving yourself you have to like yourself first. This is what people mean when they say 'be yourself' . They are saying act in the best interests of who you are right now to become who you want to be. Its not a hop over it's a progression. You don't fake it till you make it (Though man don't i LOOOOVE this advice, if only it's given in the right way its so powerful) its being you the you you are right now and then naturally you will progress, and using the you you are right now to progress into what you want to become. And , in private too. Authenticity is personal in public it will do you more favors to perform than it will to 'be yourself' but in youyrself, in your body in your privacy in your mind- be yourself.

See it this way. What are you? You are the Universe in a Human Body. Why is the Universe / God / Source ? Figurehead Of Your Mythology Of Comfort x Choice be in a human body? To EXPERIENCE life as a human being. The same reason it's in a cup and the ocean and wifi and veneers etc, everything in existence is simply the Universe trying to experience itself, we all know this. At least the Elites do. Why then are you the way that you are? TO EXPERIENCE LIFE FROM THAT PERSPECTIVE. So if you don't fully sink into an experience you are bound to repeat it as many times as it takes to fully experience it and if you don't you'll just come back in another life to deal with the same thing. The pathway to progress is to like yourself as you are now so that you can move on to a different experience *(Another reason to go to therapy x CBT. Stop running. If you stop running, itgoes away by itself, because the whole point was to experience it and now that you have what's the point of a re-do? A Universe obsessed with expansion can not tolerate stagnation, if you go through it it HAS to go away). IF you run from who you are now, you will be stuck as her. If you not only accept and like her but also function FROM who you are now, you are bound to change. And the issue the issue the issue the fucking issue is ALWAYS morality there are a billion reasons to hate the church and every patriarchal religion out there but the top of the list will always be morality. You can not like what you are because you think she is BAD and you want to be GOOD. EW.

So what even do I mean? If you are a liar just lieand soon the lying will go away, if you wnat it to. If yoy want to sleep around just do that and use it to get to your goals. Sleep your way to the top AND LIKE It. Fake your way to the top and like it. Scam people and get what you want by sinking into what you are right now and finding pleasure in it. If you just sink into it, into what you are RIGHT NOW and find pleasure in it and find a way to use it to get to where you want to be - all that will go away. The frustration the pain the struggle the all that- it will go away. All that comes from resistance. And sinking into the fact that you are a human being so you act like one will literally save you 3/4 of your pain (Another reminder to study evolutionary psychology and human intelligence so you stop punishing yourself for being a person) .

Ramble over.

BMAC

[insidekatmind]

His toy~ The masked officer (black guard)

Wearning: +18,smut,manipulation,dark, age-gap

Request: yes!

The air was filled with the pungent smell of cigarette smoke, a smell that was now familiar to you. His breathing was slow, calm, as if all the chaos around you didn’t matter. You were there, straddling him, with his cock buried in your pussy as you warmed it up. You were trapped in his dominion, in his perverse game.

At first you were a player like the others. A number among many, another desperate one ready to risk everything to survive. You had followed the same rules, suffered the same fears. But then he had noticed you. You didn’t know what had caught his attention: the way you faced the games? The fire in your eyes? Or just a whim? Whatever the reason, the masked officer had torn you away from that common destiny and made you his.

He had removed you from the competition, removed you from the hungry looks of your companions and the sadistic games of death. But he hadn’t set you free. No, your captivity had become more intimate, darker. He had made you his, a toy to keep close, to admire and control.

“You know, you could have died today,” he murmured, blowing a puff of smoke against your face. His tone was amused. “Maybe you should thank me,” he said, touching your ass while his cock was still buried inside you.

Your throat went dry, but you didn’t dare rebel. Every time you’d tried, he’d reminded you who had the power. His hands slid lazily down your back, not with gentleness, but with cruel possession. He was a man used to being in control, to bending anyone to his will.

He’d given you different clothes, better food, even a more comfortable bed, but everything came at a price. His company, his fun. To him, you were no longer a player, no longer a number. You were a pastime, an obsession.

"Tell me, are you afraid of me?" he asked, tilting his head as he peered at you.

You didn't answer right away. Were you afraid? Yes. But worse than fear, there was something worse: habit. You had grown accustomed to his touch, the way his gaze followed you, his cumbersome presence. You had grown accustomed to being his.

He smiled, as if he had read your thoughts. "Good girl." the guard whispers contentedly.

You leaned against his, sighing, feeling how you were warming up his cock.

He chuckled, enjoying your submission, your compliance.

“I can feel how you melt for me.” His words send a shiver down your spine.

He pulled you closer, his hands moving up your thighs, feeling your skin against his fingertips.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “You belong to me now.”

The masked officer keeping his hands firmly on your hips, guiding your movements as you rocked on his lap.

He hummed in approval, his smile widening as you denied any attempt to escape. he liked that you were obedient, that you knew your place.

“Good girl,” he repeated, his hands roaming over your body, caressing your curves, squeezing your hips.

He leaned forward, his mouth hovering over your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“you’re all mine now, you understand?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

Despite the fear, a strange excitement bubbled within you, as his dominant presence awakened sensations you'd never felt before. You nodded, submitting completely to him, to the possessive man claiming you.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The words came out automatically, a response to his authority, to the way he commanded you effortlessly.

He hummed contentedly, his touch becoming more possessive, his grip on your body more commanding.

He chuckled at your obedience, clearly pleased with your submission. He loved how easy it was for him to control you, how he could make you do whatever he wanted just by commanding you.

He moved his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites along the way.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “you’re mine, completely mine. no one else will ever touch you again.”his hands moved lower, grabbing your ass, pulling you closer to him, making you take his cock deeper.

You were unable to deny the pleasure his touch sent through you, the thrill mingling with the fear. With each word, each possessive gesture, the mask that covered his face seemed to become a part of him, a symbol of the power he held over you.

"I'm yours," you repeated, the words a surrender, a promise.

"Only yours." You knew it was true. No one else would have the same claim to you, the same influence.

He smirked against your skin, loving the sound of those words.

“that’s right,” he whispered, his hands gripping your ass tighter, almost possessively. He lifted his head, looking at you with a mixture of desire and dominance.

“you’re mine, and no one else can have you,” he said, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you.

The masked officer started to move his hips in sync with your movements, helping you ride him even faster.As you rocked on it, his breath caught in his throat, his control slowly slipping . He wrapped a hand around your neck, a possessive gesture that showed the extent of his claim over you. With each passing second, you were becoming more and more his.

Your bodies moved together, creating a rhythm of domination and submission.

"That’s it," he whispered, his voice rough and breathless. "You’re so good for me."

The new position forced you to arch your body, your head falling back against his shoulder.

You closed your eyes, feeling the overwhelming sensations he was igniting in you. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the smell of his cigarette, his musk filling your senses. Your body was trembling uncontrollably, your mind consumed by the pleasure he was giving you. He had you completely at his mercy.

The moans you let out were pornographic, he groans and reaches for his cigarette again taking a drag as he guides your hips.

You moaned and bounce on his cock as you got drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you, his hand on your neck and the way he was smoking the cigarette.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

he tightened his grip on your neck, enough to make you feel his dominance even more.

The masked officer pulled you closer to him, his body pressed against yours, his chest against your back.

He took another drag from his cigarette, then blew the smoke directly into your ear.

“you’re so damn needy,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with lust. “you can’t get enough of me, can you?”

You were unable to deny his words. You had become addicted to the way he touched you, the way he controlled you. Your body ached for him, longed for his touch, his touch.

The way he spoke, with such possessive dominance, only made you want him even more. You were willing to do anything he asked, anything he desired. You were completely addicted to him, your body and mind under his command.

He could feel your desperation, your need for him. it was intoxicating, and it only fueled his own desire.

He moved his free hand down your body, his fingers tracing a path along your curves.

he nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin.

“you’re mine,” he repeated, his voice a possessive growl. “my little toy, my little slut.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t deny the effect they had on you. You were his, there was no denying it. He had complete control over you, and you loved every second of it.

He could feel your body tremble in response to his words, and he loved it.

He smirked, enjoying the way you responded to him. He loved the way you surrendered to him, the way you were completely at his mercy.

He began to thrust up into you, matching your movements with his own, his grip on your neck and hip tightening even more.

“that’s it,” he whispered again, his voice a mixture of dominance and pleasure. “take it, take my cock like a good girl.”

You felt as if you had no control over your own body, your mind completely consumed by the sensations he was creating. His words, his touch, his dominance is too much for you. "Yes" you say groan.

He chuckled again, clearly pleased with your response.

The masked officer loved how you responded to him, how he could reduce you to a moaning mess with just a few words and touches.

He continued to thrust up into you, his pace growing faster and more urgent.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“you’re so damn beautiful like this,” he whispered, his voice strained with pleasure. “so desperate, so needy, all for me.”

You felt the heat radiating from him, the power he had over you, and it excited you even more. You knew you were completely addicted to him, your body and mind completely under his control. His words, his touch, his domination made you weak, and you loved it.

You felt the heat radiating from him, the power he had over you, and it excited you even more. You knew you were completely addicted to him, your body and mind completely under his control. His words, his touch, his domination made you weak, and you loved it."I'm so close" you say.

He could feel your body clenching around him, your movements becoming more erratic.

The masked officer smirked against your skin, knowing that you were close.

He pulled you even closer to him, his body pressed against yours, his chest against your back.

He nipped at your earlobe again, his voice a low growl.

“come for me,” he whispered, his command a demand. “come on my cock, my little toy.”

As you reached your peak, he felt your body tremble and convulse around him.

He held you tight against him, his own pleasure building up as he felt you climax.

He continued to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm, relishing in the feeling of your body spasming around him.

He whispered your name like a mantra, his voice hoarse with desire.

You whimpered and leaned against his chest as you felt him cum inside you.

He let out a low groan as he reached his own climax, his body shuddering with pleasure.

He held you tightly, his arms wrapped around you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

He buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent, feeling your body against his.

“goddamn…” he muttered, his voice still hoarse. “that was… incredible.”

His grip loosened slightly, but he kept his arms around you, as if he couldn't bear to let you go.

He took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke swirling around you before dissipating in the air.

He chuckled again, a self-satisfied sound.

“you did so well,” he murmured, his voice still rough. “my good little toy.”