#but-- come sometime later-- might just write it anyway > 3 >;

[no-thanks-im-stuffed]

I have a Gravity Falls Theory I've been meaning to write down for a WHILE so here goes:

Stanford Pines is no genius and I'm gonna pick apart every single one of "Ford's" scientific inventions/accomplishments to prove it.

Grab a beverage, this is gonna be a long one

[Gravity Falls spoilers, a little bit of The Book of Bill]

Contents:

Ford's "Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness"

Codes and Secrets

Inventions

Ford's Tragic Backstory

McGucket

Why Would He Do This??

After Weirdmageddon

TLDR

1. Ford's "Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness"

I can support most of my claims with the help of Journal 3. Unless Ford had actual, scientific research papers, this is the only research we have from him and it's... not scientific in the slightest. Ford treats his "research notes" like a personal diary. I get that they had to design the Journal to be entertaining to kids, but from a scientific lense (which is what he wants to be perceived through), most of Ford's discoveries are very surface level and sometimes (especially later on) border on paranoid conspiracy theorist rambling.

His Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness is the reason he came to Gravity Falls in the first place. His goal is clear:

but, on the very next page, the ramblings start.

It gets worse once he finds the invisible ink.

"The pyramids were built to appease Bill!" sure, buddy.

(And yes, Bill confirms most of these ramblings about his history in The Book of Bill, but a) he too could be lying about this and b) I don't think he had a nice chat with Ford about who he tricked and tormented to build his portal. It wouldn't really fit into the timeline.)

The one bit of "science" I found him doing was his experimentation with the Bottomless Pit. He threw objects in the hole and only saw some stuff coming back while other stuff went missing. Ford hypothesizes it might be a "Möbius Pit" and even spends enough time experimenting on it that he found out "nothing ever seems to get lost on Friday the Thirteenth". Credit where credit is due.

Anyway, he's documenting all kinds of fantastical creatures in the Journal - adding his whimsical commentary and making random assumptions about stuff without any scientific basis. As he admits himself later on, this is getting him nowhere to actually start his Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness, let alone finish it. It's been SIX YEARS.

BUDDY WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

It took a spark of "divine intervention" to even start doing any meaningful research and it was just Bill telling him "hey there's a weirdness dimension btw".

Ford even admits that he didn't come up with it himself. The next pages are the first actually scientific looking ones so far, but more on that in the Inventions section.

He doesn't really advance on his Weirdness Theory for a while (see McGucket chapter for more), but later in the Journal, Ford has a little adventure with Dipper, talking about "The True Theory of Weirdness". He drops a "weird" jelly bean on the floor and watches it roll uphill towards Gravity Falls. He then states that Gravity Falls is a "Weirdness Magnet" and every oddity is eventually drawn to this place. Which is not a theory scientifically speaking, more like an unproven hypothesis. He didn't develop a model to, let's say, predict which oddity will find its way to Gravity Falls next or when it will happen.

"I explained that I felt in my bones that my arrival at this town, and perhaps Dipper's, too, was not an accident. That we were part of some greater fate the town had in store for us." Very scientific.

2. Codes and Secrets

The Journal has several hidden messages from a good handful of characters, some more encoded than others.

We all know about the Map leading to the secrets of Nathaniel Northwest's fraud from the show. Ford found it somewhere in the library.

It just needed to be folded. Layton ass puzzle. A 12 year old figured it out. Ford couldn't do it. Even Mabel is poking fun of him.

Now on to the ciphers.

One of them is a letter from Blendin, encrypted with the Vigenère cipher. To this, Stanford "aced cryptology" Pines says the following:

He was given the key and still couldn't make sense of it. Of course a cool puzzle for people reading the Journal, but not really helping Ford with upholding his image of being an undeniable genius.

Ford himself mainly uses the Atbash and Caesar ciphers, both being a) literally thousands of years old, b) incredibly simple and c) not his own invention.

Bill uses two symbol substition ciphers.

Now I don't know about you, but if a divine being chose me as the genius of the century to inspire me and said being left tiny hidden messages in my diary, I would stop at nothing to try and decipher what they're trying to tell me. For some reason, Ford did not do this. The first message Bill leaves says "I'VE BEEN INSIDE YOUR MIND SIXER, I KNOW YOUR SECRETS". He could have seen all of this coming wayyy earlier (or just had yet another red flag to ignore).

Anyway, I accidentally solved the code before finishing the Journal just to discover that Bill is literally handing him the solution on a silver platter towards the end.

Girl, what do you mean "???" ??

Now, I know Ford at this point is incredibly sleep deprived, paranoid and traumatized. But come on. If I can solve it 6 coffees in while dissociating, our genius can find the solution to Bill's alphabet using the A1Z26 cipher that he put in the journal himself. Plus, as mentioned, he could have deciphered his alphabet way before The Betrayal when his mind was still sound.

So again, not a good look for Ford in the whole genius department.

3. Inventions

Now let's take a look a the inventions which are most commonly associated with Stanford:

The Portal

The Bunker

The Magnet Gun

The Quantum Destabilizer

The Perpetual Motion Machine

The Portal is not one of Ford's inventions, that much is pretty clear. He "comes up with the idea" after Bill told him about some kind of "weirdness dimension".

Now maybe Ford built the portal. Or McGucket built it (which I find more likely due to his tendency to build large scale metal structures) and Ford helped him. We can't really say for sure.

What we CAN say for sure is that McGucket left the day before the big test, which means the portal was basically finished at that point. So if there was still any work left to be done, it would have been minimal and "even Stanley" could figure it out without help, so Ford probably could have, too.

The Bunker. Designed and built by McGucket (and possibly the lumberjacks before zapping them with the Memory Gun), including the death trap of a security system.

Notice the wording. McGucket insisted he could do it on HIS own. But then went out of his way to ask the lumberjacks and not Ford to help excavate the whole thing.

Why? Why not include Ford? Maybe because McGucket could tell Ford was overworked. Maybe because he thought even with Ford's help, they wouldn't have been able to do it in a timely manner and he didn't want to memory zap more people than neccessary, I'm not sure.

Anyway, the Bunker consists of the Bunker itself, a Security Room, an Observation Room and a Storage Room. On top of that, a Temperature Control Apparatus, a Cooling System and a Cryogenic Tube.

Again with the phrasing. "HIS skill for construction". "telephone HE built". "my assistant really topped HIMSELF with the security precautions". "once F starts inventing, HE can't stop".

A man like Ford wouldn't pass up on an opportunity to tell the world about his own accomplishments, yet they are strangely missing in these pages. However, the sketches documenting McGucket's work have become more technical than they've ever been. They even have small annotations that seem as if Ford asked McGucket what he was currently building.

"F has explained" implies McGucket was once again doing this on his own. Why else would he need to explain anything to Ford if they were doing this together? Plus, again, surely Ford would have mentioned something, anything, if he had participated in any way.

The things he DID mention is that he found a mole man skeleton and "Shifty", the shapeshifting creature. And he saved McGucket once Shifty broke out of their cage (Remember this for later, it'll come in handy). And he conducts tests on Shifty (remember this as well).

On to the Magnet Gun.

Again, passive form. If Ford had modified the gun himself, he would have told us. Chances are it was once again McGucket. Or it was just taken from Crash Site Omega as Ford says in the show that he and McGucket came down there often to loot the UFO for tech.

Lastly: The Quantum Destabilizer.

He actually admits he worked on it. However, he spent 30 years between dimensions. In these 30 years he couldn't find anyone (including himself) to get the Destabilizer working. The Other McGucket, however, was able to do it in less than a week.

Ford claims he was missing a suitable power source which The Other McGucket found, but there's no way of knowing if there was more to those "minor adjustments" to Ford's blaster than Ford would like to admit.

The only invention left is the Perpetual Motion Machine which I will save for the "Tragic Backstory" section.

Honorable mentions:

The Hyperdrive needed to power the portal:

While between dimensions, he was given a Dimensional Translator. Also not his own invention.

"F's mechanical know-how" vs. "my keen intuition." implying Ford merely found the Hyperdrive, but McGucket extracted it safely.

So the Hyperdrive was looted from Crash Site Omega. Plus, McGucket was the one to realize it was even needed in the first place.

The metal plate in his head? Not his invention. Not even his idea. The Oracle did that for him.

The Book of Bill has another example that Ford can't invent for shit: He found the blueprint of Abigale Blackwing's Anti-Bill-Suit in the library (once again, not even his own invention) and drafted a more modern blueprint. And either he completely failed to build it or it didn't work because we never hear from it again. Instead, he installs a retina scanner to keep Bill out of the lab. Which he (probably) ALSO didn't build himself.

In summary:

Portal: blueprint by Bill, (probably) built by McGucket.

Bunker: designed and built by McGucket (probably with the help of the lumberjacks).

Magnet Gun: likely looted from Crash Site Omega.

Quantum Destabilizer: a mess before McGucket fixed it overnight

Perpetual Motion Machine: see below.

Dimensional Translator: Not Ford's invention.

Metal Plate: thought of and installed by The Oracle.

Anti-Bill-Suit: invented by Abigale Blackwing.

4. Ford's Tragic Backstory

In fact, he mostly doesn't even say that he did any of this. He openly admits whenever he took something or McGucket built stuff, and barely calls any of the inventions his own. We just assumed that he can (on account of him being a genius), so we assumed he did.

would only make sense if he ACTUALLY couldn't get the Perpetual Motion Machine to work. We already know Ford is an unreliable narrator and I'm probably not the first one to point out that it doesn't make sense that Stan supposedly cost Ford his entire scholarship by breaking his Perpetual Motion Machine (accident or not).

Think about it from a college's point of view: You hear about a young man who apparently built a machine that violates the laws of thermodynamics. You don't just pass up on something like that just because it didn't work the ONE TIME you came to visit. That would be an exceedingly stupid thing to do. I think they would have given him that scholarship if he even got close to achieving such a feat.

Does he even have 12 PHDs as he keeps claiming? In what? For what reason? Wouldn't he get a scholarship for his dream school at some point given his seemingly endless potential? It all seems like overcompensation to me. Reminds me of Tommy Tallarico and his ever-increasing number of Guinness World Records.

Now let's briefly assume Ford IS a genius whose invention got sabotaged. Ford could have easily fixed it and asked for a second appointment with the judges. This did not happen. And even if he didn't get into his dream school, he could have used this perpetual motion machine for the good of humanity. He didn't do that. If the Machine had ever worked, it would have made international news. It didn't. He would have been world famous. He isn't.

What does that tell us?

However, there is a reason Ford is like this. It is connected to his tragic backstory, but I will include this in the final chapter for narrative reasons.

Also note how even in A Better World, he did not go do his dream college. The science center was built around the Shack that he went to later in life:

And even there, he only manages to make a name of himself with McGucket's cooperation. We already established he couldn't build the portal on his own. My guess that McGucket once again did the heavy lifting and didn't mind Ford taking the credit (as you will see in the McGucket chapter).

5. McGucket

At this point we've already gone over how McGucket built (probably) most of the Portal, the Bunker and everything in it, and got the Quantum Stabilizer to work. We also know that in his free time, he loves to tinker. He canonically built a laptop (with extra keys for Fords fingers), a cellphone, the Memory Gun, several killer robots, the Shack-O-Tron and started an entire ass cult along the way.

And that's just what I picked up on from skimming the Journal.

I think Ford was McGucket's assistant. He didn't get ANYTHING done before he called McGucket over for help. In the bunker, all he did was find a skeleton and conduct "experiments" on Shifty (by showing them pictures of creatures and documenting what happens). He led McGucket to the UFO crash site, McGucket was the one to actually extract the Hyperdrive. All of the stuff Ford does sounds more like an assistant's job to me.

We only see McGucket make stuff on screen. All this time he's welding together contraptions, piloting giant killer robots, having a blast.

We never see Ford tinkering ONCE. Still, he constantly praises McGucket for his "brilliant mind", "mechanical knowledge" and "skill in construction".

I'm also pretty sure McGucket knows that Ford isn't the genius he claims to be. Upon seeing Bill's blueprints, he immediately gets suspicious:

Why would he say this to a fellow genius?

And he's the one who recognizes something is wrong with the portal earlier than anyone else.

The day before the test, he meets Ford at the diner to warn him cause he knows something is deeply wrong - and offers him a thesis paper.

Now here is where things get interesting.

Ford gets angry. But instead of saying something like "How dare you insult my scientific integrity / intelligence", he thinks McGucket wants the Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness to himself, which obviously couldn't be further from the truth. But Ford is too insecure about his intelligence and too curious about the portal to care.

This makes me wonder if McGucket had done this before. They went to college together. What if McGucket wrote Ford's final assignment as well? What if he'd seen him have a meltdown over the introduction and whipped up a fantastic final thesis in an afternoon?

We know McGucket cares deeply for Ford, and we can tell his intentions at the diner were sincere. He doesn't really want or need any credit - meanwhile Ford is starved for it. This is probably also why he's fine being "Ford's assistant" even though he's the one putting in most of the work.

6. Why Would He Do This??

Before we talk about Ford's plans after Weirdmageddon, I have to mention that there's a good reason Ford is pretending to be a genius. This is pretty speculative territory, but I think it makes sense given what we know about the Pines family.

When you're a twin, at least in the Stan Bro's case, you're constantly being compared to one another. Once it has been established that Ford is the "smarter" of the two (true or not), their father latches onto that and soon Ford's intelligence becomes his entire identity. I think just like Stan was looked down upon and neglected for being the "stupid" twin, Ford was burdened with expectations for being the "smart" twin. "You're gonna go far, kid. You're gonna make us so much money, you're gonna get us out of this dump." An INSANE thing to burden a child with.

This goes well for a while - Ford gets straight As and is the pride of the family. His ego inflates. But then something strange happens which I'm sure many "gifted kids" can relate to - he hits a wall. At some point he can no longer brute force things with his intelligence and he has trouble keeping up with his family's expectations. His massive ego gets damaged beyond repair.

Soon, he starts questioning everything. "If I'm not the smart guy, who am I? What's left?" He's been living like this his entire life. It's way too late to turn back so he moves forward. And if intelligence can't get him there, at least he can use the smarts he does have to make sure nobody else ever finds out. It's not unlikely for him to develop this attitude and it's the same kind of mindset he brings to taking the Hyperdrive from Crash Site Omega:

In a way, this makes him a con artist like Stanley. Which, after everything that's happened between the two, must feel like such an insult to Ford that he'd rather live in denial than face reality. The reality being that he is about as intelligent as Stanley, too. This doesn't mean that Stan is dumb (he managed to get the portal to work with barely any help, after all) - just that Ford is not as intelligent as he (and everyone else) thought / expected of him. AND that Stanley isn't as dumb as everyone always told him he was.

I think while yes, Stan broke the Machine, Ford couldn't fix it. Or it was never even a Perpetual Motion Machine to begin with. Yes, Ford couldn't go to his "dream college", but was that really his dream? Or his father's? Remember when McGucket offered him the Weirdness Thesis on a silver platter, saying with this he can finally "get his life back", and Ford still refused it? Maybe he didn't want his old life back. Because his old life SUCKED without Stanley in it.

7. After Weirdmageddon

Now that we established what Ford's dad wanted him to be, let's explore what Ford actually likes doing.

Obviously journaling and sketching what he sees, but what else?

Ford loves exploring. He goes on hikes, climbs mountains, visits caves, goes ham on Crash Site Omega. In the Bunker he looks around and discovers a mole man skeleton and Shifty while McGucket did the inventing/building.

He's also great at action hero stuff. He saves McGucket from the Gremloblin, and later from Shifty, he's jumping around the UFO with a magnet gun as if it's the only thing he's ever done, and saving Dipper from the security system, just to name a few.

He even says this in the episode: "I need to train an apprentice to help me fight monsters, solve mysteries, and protect this town." This doesn't really sound like science stuff to me.

So yeah I think Ford lied about being a genius to compensate for his (self perceived) lack of other qualities, he lied about his 12 PHDs, his scientific accomplishments, maybe even some inventions. He sucks at decoding things despite claiming to have "aced cryptology". Instead, he spends most of his time exploring, fighting monsters, stealing shit and getting in all kinds of dangerous situations. Truth is, he is much more similar to Stan than he'd like anyone to find out.

He also doesn't even WANT to do science. He likes the idea of science, like in Sci Fi movies, but not the actual labor that comes with it. Ford has been travelling between dimensions for 30 years. He probably is the only human to ever have done that in his dimension. Surely he spent these 30 years on research? Well...

There's only a single line mentioned in the Journal about doing anything scientific and he didn't even dedicate the entire sentence to it.

He "compared notes with scholars". That's it.

But surely he has so many papers and theories he can finally publish to fulfil his initial goal to "join the ranks of Newton, Tesla, & Einstein in the pantheon of science"?

Nope. He goes treasure hunting with Stanley. Ford seems to have forgotten all about his research. And I think that's not just because he wants to make up for lost time, but also because this is what he truly wanted to do in the first place, before he was forced into the "genius" mold.

To go adventuring, to be creative, to spend time with the family that matters.

8. TLDR

Ford didn't manage to write his Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness.

His Journal is entertaining, but ultimately full of unscientific ramblings.

He didn't build the portal, bunker, magnet gun, quantum destabilizer, or any other invention I could find.

All of his accomplishments can be traced back to either Bill, the town library, or McGucket.

He didn't write his own codes, he couldn't decipher any of the codes or secrets he found, including the ones he was given a solution to.

The Journal makes it look like Ford is McGucket's assistant and not the other way round.

McGucket is amazing and needs to be protected at all costs.

The tragicness of Ford's backstory makes no sense if he actually WAS a genius.

He needed to keep up the genius act because that's what his family expected of him and now he's con-artist level good at it.

He spent 30 years between dimensions committing crimes and preparing for revenge instead of doing science.

he seems to not even LIKE doing science. he prefers exploring, drawing, and getting into dangerous situations.

Once back in his home dimension, instead of doing anything science related, he goes adventuring with his brother.

Disclaimer: I have nothing against Ford, if anything this adds to his character cause I haven't seen anyone even so much as question his status as a genius yet. I just needed to get this out of my system cause this has been brewing in my brain since JULY.

This took me 10 hours to write. Thank you so much for making it this far, this post was brought to you by Autism™

[take-ya-to-the-ghey-bar]

{today in shit post tier thoughts imma share because why the hell not--}

The idea of Micchan fucking up by being a lil pissy, and making a "bite me" remark to a vampire (either just because of a foot in mouth moment, or because he has zero idea what the other is) is probably way funnier to me right now than it needs to be-- (bonus points for if it's because of the foot in mouth situation, and realization sets in .5 seconds later)

[dyketennant]

oh i can already tell i’m about to have some really unpopular opinions about the edge of sleep tv show

[violentdevotion]

I had multiple dreams last night.

I had a bf </3

someone in my family got bit by a zombie </3

some guy made me explain narrative structure to him </3

[roturo]

⋆.˚⭒⋆.˚ WATCH IT!

Gojo Satoru didn't predicted this move... So he ended up fucking you lol ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ G!Satoru x afab!reader and sex pollen!

tags: smut, sex pollen, unprocteted sex (wrap it and pee after sex), overstimulation (like A LOT), use of nicknames (princess, baby, good boy, love...) multiple rounds, praise kink, angst if you squint your eyes till you cry like gojo, sub(ish)!gojo satoru, god complex, fluff if you take one eye out, crack, belly bulgde, creampie, breeding kink, crempie kink, A LOT of cum, dumbfication, cock warming, npr.

A/N: happy holidays! might be my last writing of the year so i wish you lots of love and happiness <3 i might write pt2 for this one and 'she's back', which one would you like first?

o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

DAY 1: HOW IT STARTED

How the fuck at his grown ass age Gojo Satoru could be this stupid. And that’s big coming from him, because this man considers himself the senior of seniors and god of gods. So, how come he falled into this?

And you know what? Maybe it is his fault! For believing he’s a superior and underestimating such a weak and useless curse he just killed. But, this weak and useless curse has him going crazy. That really was karma paying back to him because motherfucker- Why is he feeling all giddy and hot all of sudden? This has never happened to him before, so that’s why he’s losing his mind right now and almost sprinting into his room because of how bothered he was feeling to just teleport. 

Everything was like hell. Really, like hot as hell. And how does Satoru know that? Uh well, because he’s living it right now.

He couldn’t bear the sensation anymore and dialogue Shoko’s number like it was a habit.

“What do you want, Gojo? I’m in the middle of trying to know how Yuuji’s body is capable of being Sukuna’s vessel. Like- It’s quite important right now, and more than debating about some of your dumb tv shows you-”

Shoko’s voice was interrupted by a whine coming from Gojo’s line, seconds of silence continued the awkward moment between the both of them, while all Gojo could do was breathe and maintain his whines inside of his body before he started literally moaning.

“Are you okay, Gojo?...”

“Fuck, no. Some fucking curse sprayed me all over with some fucking stinky pollen. Didn’t even taste great, by the way. And now I'm just feeling really hot, sometimes dizzy… or kinda giddy? fuck. And my breathing became irregular. I’m fucking sprawled out in my bed trying to find a comfy position but my legs won’t cooperate.”

A loud laugh was heard coming from Shoko’s line. It was clear she’s been holding it all this time just trying to make sure she’s gettin it right.. and well. 

“Gojo.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you hard right now?”

Silence. 

“You know what? I’m sending Y/N over there with some medicine. You’ve been sprayed with sex pollen by the way.”

Sex- what?! 

Before he couldn’t even ask Shoko any question since she quickly hung up. Leaving a needy and confused (and hard) Gojo.

Knock. Knock. 

No answer, but a weird sounding moan? You gave yourself permission to enter Gojo’s room since no life signals were heard. But- holy fuck. Was this a reward or a punishment from the gods?

He was kneeled down on his bed, one of his hands used as a support placed in his bare calf while his other hand was as fast as possible jerking himself off. You stayed still some seconds before rewinding back to what Shoko told you before coming here.

“He might be another type… of… Gojo?... Anyways. He’ll be really needy and like a lost puppy looking for some salvation. I gave you this backpack with all you would need, yeah? Thank me later and good luck.”

So that’s why her flat ass was quickly sending you off with a backpack full of water bottles and snacks. Sex fucking pollen. Great.

It’s not like people don’t know that both of you have been crushing into each other lately, hell- even his newest student asked about this. But you never expected for it to be like this.

“G-Gojo…?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, but it’s like a hawk located his next prey because of how instant his reaction was just for your voice. A drunk smile on his face, while both of his hands fall infront of him trying to hide the act that was going on minutes ago. His sculptured white as snow body covered in a hot layer of sweat. Not being able to catch a breath thanks to this sight, somehow he’s in front of you. 

“Are you here to help me? Y/N?”

His voice sounded so different. But at the same time it was just Gojo.

A small nod was all the reaction he got. You could smell that sweaty smell, looking down you found yourself looking at a large wet spot staining his black briefs. While his cock does nothing to imagination, marking perfectly the shape of it. Moving your gaze to his v-line, a white happy trail proudly adorning it. Eyes moving up, you found yourself looking at his clearly erected nipples, But all this examination was over once he interrupted your thoughts.

“I need a verbal affirmation, princess”

Ah, the nicknames. If you weren’t wet by now, you’re pretty sure you’re leaking right now all because of him.

“Yes Satoru, I’ll help you.”

His knees felt weak. Literally. He kneeled down in front of you, it was like he hypnotized and somehow could smell through your body into emotions. His hands were cold but hot at the same time he roamed your body.

You tried warning him by calling his name while he started kissing the softness of your thighs, telling him to at least move you towards the bed. And his body was doing what you said like if you were controlling him, while his mind was somewhere else. He moved the both of you towards his bed, making you lie down. His head not wasting any second between your thighs until his nose touched where you needed him the most and you whimpered at the feeling. Clearly triggering a new kind of need inside Gojo.

Everything happened really fast. Between some kisses and moaning, Gojo ripped your shorts and pantoes a muffled noise coming out from him of what you suppose was “I’ll buy you new ones later” but right now you couldn’t care less.

Not when his tongue slowly started tracing the way from your entrance until it reached your core. Teasing it with kitten licks, while his hands remained on your hips from preventing moving them.

His tongue quickly found a rhythm between your entrance and your clit, forming infinite signs between them. And the simulation was too much you couldn’t notify Gojo about your orgasm- But he was so lost in the feeling of your thighs suffocating him and the taste of yourself in his lips, he swears he could die as a happy man right now.

And like it wasn’t enough, Gojo kept eating you out even after your intense orgasm. Overstimulation taking over your body, trying to take him off your core, ended up with annoyed groans coming out from him.

“Satoru, love, fuck. I need you to stop, please.”

The nickname had him exploding with happiness, he really looked like a puppy from this angle. His eyes looked ethereal, his mouth covered with your fluids and his face was with a cute smile while he called out your name.

“Will you please let me fuck you?”

A small giggle came out from your mouth, Gojo’s face looked a little sad and embarrassed, but was quickly erased when you pecked his lips. And that was all he needed to clumsily take off his briefs and while he climbed back to the bed, taking off your top while doing so. His eyes were full of adoration looking over your body, before he pressed his lips into yours, locking them for a long moment, clearly enjoying the moment, before the kiss turned more heated and he started kissing every part of your body again.

His tip was now wet thanks to your folds, Easily slipping through it. 

“Ffuck- Ssatoru- Be a good boy and put it in, please?”

Gojo needed no more words before thrusting his cock whole into you with one swift movement, hitting perfectly against that spongy spot that made you see stars. But something didn’t feel right. Not in a bad way. Since you re-opened your eyes to find a glassy eyed Satoru mumbling a lot of ´sorry’s´ while he kept thrusting.

Oh.

He came with just one thrust and was overstimulating himself, still rock hard with no break while he hid his face in the crook of your neck while marking it as his and tearing down from the pleasure. 

You’re pretty sure he came again, when he whimpered your name and moaned against your ear but still continued thrusting into you perfectly. And he was so lost in the pleasure of overstimulating himself he didn’t realize once he confessed to you.

“You’re so pretty- ffuck– I really want to make you mine now. So no one could look at you, not even in a friendly way. Just… have you all for me- sshit. I love you.”

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, thinking it was all because of the moment, so you just had to enjoy it for now. His thrusts were so  fast and hard, but somehow still felt romantic. Like this was a normal routine on a daily basis. And you would be disgusted by the pool of cum forming under the both of you if you weren’t so close to your third orgasm this night. No matter how many times you told Gojo to stop for a moment and take a break, he would cum again, and still be hard so he had to keep thrusting.

Your mind is lost now. All you could ever think about right now was Gojo Satoru and his immense cock. He wouldn’t stop mumbling praises to you, saying this was all for you to feel good and he would stop once you cum at least 3 times more than him. A hard dare to get over with. Or maybe it already happened?

You begged for mercy, not thinking he could get another orgasm out of you. Hell- to even get an orgasm out of him. His hands interweld into yours, and moved it down towards your tummy.

“Do you feel it, baby? I'm right here. Ahh~ I’m pretty sure my cum is there too heh. Your tummy is full of me and my cum.”

He sounded drunk. Like. Really drunk. But his words took off your last orgasm of the night, apparently your reaction making his trigger off and cum… dry?

How many fucking times did Gojo Satoru came inside you?

Will pills even prevent a pregnancy?

“Ah- shit baby.”

You couldn’t pay attention to him anymore, quickly slipping into dreamland. Gojo not once leaves your side. Literally. He was cock-warming, still hard, but no energy (and cum) to continue his misery.

You were here at 7.45 o’clock, one last look at the clock and it was 3.23 in the morning.

And it was like you just blinked, because a whimper came out of your mouth. Looking again into the clock, it was 10 AM, and Gojo was not over.

[watchmegetobsessed]

OLD GRUDGES (part 1)

A/N: wooohoooo im bringing something new!!! i feel like it happens so rarely it's like a miracle lol anyway, this will be hopefully a couple of parts (probably about 3) and lets all pray i will actually finish it lol

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Everyone loves Harry Styles. It’s a known fact, not just amongst the people who actually know him, but all around the world. He is known as one of the most unproblematic celebrities, someone who gives just as much if not even more respect as he gets, always kind and patient with others, rarely loses his temper. It’s hard to imagine that there is anyone walking this planet who doesn’t see him as a lovable, sweet man.

Well, it might be hard to imagine, but there is actually one person who has a very different opinion when it comes to the british popstar. 

And that person is music producer, Y/N. 

The interesting thing is that their history goes way back into his 1D days. Y/N was an up and coming name in the industry, just started working with bigger names when she got the chance to produce several songs on the band’s third studio album. Harry remembers her as a bubbly, funny girl who is passionate about her job and is also excellent in it. Working with her was easy and motivating, she was always eager to perfect songs to an extent Harry couldn’t even imagine and that’s why songs like Story Of My Life, You & I and Midnight Memories were such hits. Y/N put her heart and soul into them, which eventually earned all the recognition they deserved. 

Harry loved working with Y/N and she was in talks of working on their fourth album as well, but the deal ended up ditched and she went on to do other projects and they somehow had a fallout. It was a shame, but he hoped his path would cross hers again. 

Years and years went by and so much changed by the time their professional ways finally met again. Jeff brought her name up when Harry just started writing for his fourth solo album and Harry gave him the go to do whatever it takes to get her on the project. A few weeks passed and Harry didn’t get any confirmation about her and just when he was about to bring it up to Jeff, he hit him with the news.

“Y/N is in for five songs. Contract should be signed by Wednesday and you can start working next week.”

Harry wondered why it took so long to get her on board, but he brushed it off because he knew she was a big name now herself and had plenty of offers from which she could choose from. He was excited to work with her and simply see her again.

It was utter shock for him when she was the complete opposite of what he remembered. Okay, that might be an overstatement, but Harry could feel something was off instantly.

She was still bubbly and fun, but for some reason, she had a certain iciness and bitter attitude whenever her focus was on Harry. To anyone else it was unnoticable, Harry knows, because he asked Jeff about it.

“What are you talking about? She is awesome,” the manager said with a shrug and Harry tried to tell himself it was all in his head, because if Jeff doesn’t see it, it’s not real.

But it kept happening and it felt even stronger when it was just him and her in a room. Sometimes she even pretended like he wasn’t there, sometimes her snarky comments were all he got and they just strengthened him in his belief. 

He wanted to ask her about it, he tried, several times, but his attempts just bounced right off her icy behavior so eventually, he gave up and there was only one thing left for him to do.

Return what he was getting. 

Yes, it is childish, but he felt like he needed to deal with her unreasonable hatred towards him somehow and this was the easiest way. Was it a smart idea to practically become enemies when working together on his album? Of course not. But it just happened.

And going against each other became their thing. 

They were great in arguing, disagreeing even when they could easily compromise, riling each other up and lashing out on each other when the tension had been building up for hours. It got to the point where others started to notice that something was off between the two of them and when Jeff questioned Harry about it, he couldn’t give him a reasonable explanation.

“She started it,” he said and instantly felt like a kid, telling on his classmate at school. But this is all he could say, because he had no idea why she was acting this way. And he has to live with it while they work together.

Something is off. Harry knows it. Something about the melody… or the guitar… or is it the lyrics? He can’t tell, he has listened to the recording a million times so it all melts in his ears and he can’t identify what’s setting him off every time he hears it. 

“Why don’t we take a break?” Jack, the technician suggests, turning in his chair. “Y/N will be here in twenty, I’m sure she’ll–”

“Okay,” Harry snaps, just so he doesn’t finish. He knows what he wanted to say. 

She’ll know what’s wrong and will correct it in a second.

Y/N always knows what’s wrong and most of the time it’s a perk, of course it is, but today, Harry feels like it’s gonna make him want to crawl out of his body. Maybe it’s because he’s been in the studio for five hours and he got nowhere or maybe because Mitch will have his first ever solo gig tonight and Harry has been worried his fame or relation to him might ruin this experience for him. 

Either way, today he is just extra pissed by the fact that Y/N will be the one to solve this mystery. 

“I’m gonna grab a coffee,” he clears his throat, standing up from his seat. “Do you want one?” he offers, feeling a bit guilty he snapped at Jack.

“Uh, yeah, just an espresso is fine, thanks man.”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

Putting on his headphone, Harry jogs across the street to the tiny coffee shop he’s been a regular at. He likes the place because they are discreet and their coffee is just simply amazing, though they swear there’s nothing extra in it. 

He waits for the two coffees at the end of the counter and scrolls on his phone in the meantime. Emails, messages, there’s always something to answer to. He sends out a few replies before he ends up in his calendar. It’s neatly color coded and he takes pride in keeping it up-to-date all the time so he can always be on top of his game, no matter what. 

His eyes land on one particular date. Five weeks from now Y/N’s contract expires and if the five songs are done by then, she’ll be out of Harry’s life again. Seeing how the work is going, she’ll easily outdo that number so there won’t be any reason for talk about an extension. 

An unsettling feeling spreads in his stomach as he stares at the date but he doesn’t have time to figure it out because  he is snapped out of his thoughts when the two paper cups are placed in front of him. He is trying his best to keep a positive mindset as he returns to the studio’s building. With the two coffee cups in his hands he makes a right turn and then stops at the door, seeing Y/N sitting where he did previously, already listening to the recording with Jack with a critical expression on her face. 

Harry doesn’t interrupt them, just stays put and waits for her feedback. When she is done listening, she leans back in her seat.

“It’s the bass. Or more specifically the lack of it. Can you double it? Let’s see how it changes.”

Jack is quick to do as she asked and then he starts the song again and…

Harry wants to scream and laugh in bliss at the same time, because it’s perfect now. He’s mad he couldn’t spot such an obvious thing, but he is also happy it’s finally sorted out. It’s just a shame Y/N was the one to do it and not him. 

“Great, so this is done then,” he makes himself noticed as he walks into the studio and hands over one of the cups to Jack. 

When he looks at Y/N he can see that familiar, irritated look on her face that’s almost always there when he’s around. He hasn’t decided if he wants to physically wipe it off, or…

“Thanks for bringing one for me,” she comments in a bored tone, turning back towards the screen.

“You weren’t here when I went out.”

“But you knew I was coming.”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes it, because this time she is kind of right. And it irks him even more today.

It’s gonna be a challenging session today, Harry thinks as he takes a seat.

It’s always exciting for Harry to be behind the stage when he’s not the star of the show. Kind of like a whole different world.

He hasn’t been here for long, but he’s been trying his best to stay as unnoticed as possible and let Mitch take the spotlight. Just a few minutes ago Sarah put him on Scout-duty which he gladly took up on, he’s always happy to spend time with the little guy. This time he is letting him explore freely and he’s just following him around to make sure he’s safe. Scout seemingly enjoys the adventure with uncle Harry, who doesn’t really pay attention where he is heading. 

That’s how they end up in the green room where Y/N is.

Y/N and Sarah have worked together a while ago, which is a random coincidence how they are connected outside of Harry. Because of their history, Y/N is often where they are, however she was never around when Sarah and Mitch were playing for Harry. 

Scout runs up to Y/N, arms in the air, asking to be picked up and Harry stops a few steps away from them when he realizes who he just found.

“Hey there, little guy! Are you all by yourself?” Y/N asks, settling the boy on her hip.

She’s changed since they parted ways in the studio. Harry has always admired her sense of style, which mostly consists of basic pieces, almost like a capsule wardrobe, but there’s always something extra, something vibrant on her that makes her sets interesting. Tonight she is wearing a simple black dress with a rather low back cut, simple heels, simple makeup, but she added a silky scarf with vivid colors and shapes around her neck that brings Harry’s attention to the curve of her neck and collarbones, almost as a cheeky invitation for his eyes to her naked skin. 

He has to fight the urge to touch her.

Despite the spiteful relationship they’ve been sporting lately, Harry had to deal with a rather unreasonable desire for Y/N in a physical way.

Unreasonable, because he never thought he could be attracted to someone who pisses him off so easily, yet there’s been plenty of occasions when Harry found himself imagining scenarios he could never admit to her, not when she hates him with such obvious passion.

Tonight it’s not just the outfit, but also the way she’s handling Scout. It’s not just women who find it incredibly hot when the opposite sex is great with kids, Harry can definitely feel something inside him moving as he watches Y/N sway from side to side with the little boy in his arms.

“Uncle Hazza is here!” Scout points at him, answering her previous question. Y/N looks up and because Harry was already looking at him, he catches a slipping moment where there’s no irritation on her face, but it returns quite fast when her gaze settles on him. 

“Ah, hi,” she says, lips pressed together as she nods, acknowledging his presence. 

“Hey. Long time no see.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it. Who says that? Why did he even say anything else other than hi? He smacks himself in his mind. 

Part of him expects her to say something like ‘not long enough’ but she just keeps quiet and turns all her attention to Scout. Harry feels out of place, he is supposed to be babysitting, but Y/N is taking care of Scout, Harry knows he is in good hands but Sarah asked him to watch over him. Should he leave? Or just keep standing there awkwardly?

“You can go, I’ll watch him,” Y/N says, as if she could read his mind. 

“You sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I can take care of him until Sarah is back.” Her reply is not just dry, kind of offended, nothing Harry wouldn’t expect from her, but it’s still irking him.

“I didn’t say you’re not capable, I just–”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” she cuts him off with an icy look. Harry is too stunned to reply, just watches Y/N walk away with Scout. 

He almost finds it amusing how easily she can piss him off, not many people have been able to do that, in fact, Harry thinks she does it the best. 

Clenching his jaw he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and then just lets it all go. 

The after party is always kind of Harry’s favorite. The stress is over, it’s just the relief and celebration that is left.

Mitch’s show went well, that’s what Harry expected, but it’s still great he was right. Seeing his friend be the star of the show was an experience he is glad he could be part of. Now that the core of the group has moved to a nearby bar, Harry has loosened up thanks to the couple of drinks he’s had. 

He’s been mostly sticking to the familiar faces he knows, rotating between the same few people  while enjoying how under the radar he is currently. 

The more drinks he has had, the less he’s been able to control where his gaze goes. To be exact, he’s been finding himself looking Y/N’s way the past hour or so. That damn dress and scarf, it’s like she’s put a spell on him that forces him to keep wanting to look at her. 

Harry is not experienced with feeling like this. Being attracted to someone who he hates, it’s such an ambivalent impulse, he can’t think straight. Or maybe it’s the amount of tequila he has drunk tonight, either way, it’s getting a rise out of him. 

From the corner of his eye he sees her slip out to the back where the smoking area is, he hesitates, shifts his weight from one leg to the other before making the leap and heading after her. He has no plan, no idea what he wants to ro will say to her, but he just feels like he has to talk to her.

Stepping out to the dimly lit back alley he is met with a few people scattered around, having a cigarette with drinks in hand, talking or scrolling on their phone and then he spots Y/N on the left, standing by the wall, cigarette in one hand, the remaining of her drink in the other as she stares ahead of her. 

She doesn’t smoke regularly, but she does enjoy one in certain social settings or when she’s had a few drinks. Harry knows it from years ago, because they shared a cigarette at a party, back then she seemed thrilled to spend time with him, he remembers all the conversations they had while working together, telling each other stories, sharing their plans, Harry truly thought they would remain good friends on this extraordinary journey, yet they ended up here.

As Harry walks towards her, she notices him and he sees her lips twitch in annoyance. 

“Care if I join?” he asks and she just shrugs without a word, avoiding to look at him. 

They stand there in silence for a while, she is lazily puffing the smoke out from time to time.

“Is it still just an occasional thing?” he tries to strike up a conversation.

“Mhm,” is all he gets as a reply.

“Have you tried to put it down fully?”

“Why are you doing this?” she snaps at him, finally looking his way. 

“What?”

“Why are you trying to chit-chat when we both know we don’t do that?”

“And why don’t we?” He challenges her. “Tell me why we are like this in the first place, because I have no idea.”

She stares at him for long moments and he awaits her answer like nothing before, but then she shakes her head and turns to the pin beside her, puts the cigarette out and flicks it into the bin. Then, without another word she is already heading back inside.

It takes a moment for Harry to start moving again, but he is quick to catch up with her in the hall that leads to the restrooms. 

“Y/N, give me a fucking answer!” he demands, grabbing her wrist to pull her back before she could escape, but she shakes his hand off as she comes to a stop, turning towards him.

“I owe you nothing!” she hisses at him. “I owe you no one, but especially you!”

“What the fuck does that suppose to mean?! I never thought you owe me anything!”

“I’m not doing this, Harry, leave me the fuck alone,” she growls and tries to leave, but Harry pulls her back again, determined to get an answer this time. 

“Don’t think I will just swallow everything down forever. I will get to the bottom of this, whether you like it or not. It’s your choice if you make it hard on both of us.”

She is looking back at him with wide eyes, this time his hand remains on her arm as they stare each other down in the empty hallway. Neither of them knows what will be their next move, the tension is so thick, it’s almost suffocating.

But then it all changes.

If someone asked who moved first, they wouldn’t know. One moment they are standing like stone statues, barely even breathing, then the next moment they are kissing like there’s no tomorrow.

It doesn’t take long until Harry has her pressed up against the wall, his hands roaming her body, feeling her up the way he fantasized about before, they are both rough and impatient, she is clawing at him, moaning into his mouth when his hips press against hers and she feels how hard he’s gotten already. 

Blindly, Harry pushes the closest door open which happens to be the staff’s bathroom that someone left unlocked, lucky for them. Still glued together they stumble inside, Y/N kicks the door open before Harry pushes her against it and he locks it before his hand returns to her tempting body. 

He has never acted like this when it comes to sex. He does like to spice things up sometimes, but the way he’s biting her lips or unbuttoning his pants or reaches under her dress to pull her underwear down is just so out of character for him, yet so freeing. 

Nothing is said, but when her hands pull his hard, leaking dick out of his pants, there’s a fleeting look they exchange that says it all, just how much they both want it. 

It’s the fastest pace he’s ever experienced, yet the most passionate too. They moan at the same time when Harry pushes into her and starts moving in a rush, desperate for relief. She’s panting and whining for more, the only form of speaking she is able to as she holds onto Harry who is focused on keeping up his quick and steady pace while holding her left leg up to ensure the perfect angle. 

The animalistic need is there for them both, making them act like this is what they must do to stay alive. It’s messy, fast and mind-blowing and they don’t need much time to reach the peak. As she comes her nails dig into her shoulder and she bites into his bottom lip so harshly it draws blood, but he doesn’t care, only follows her into bliss just a second later. With the last bit of his consciousness Harry pulls out right before he comes, covering her thigh with the white, sticky evidence of just how much he enjoyed the past minutes. 

They are breathing heavily and Harry feels like a thick haze is still lingering around his head, stopping him from realizing what just happened. Y/N however is ahead of him and when reality comes crashing down on her, her instinct to flee kicks right in. Harry is still trying to clear his mind when she grabs a paper towel and cleans herself up as fast as possible and Harry only snaps out of his trance when she is already unlocking the door.

“Y/N, what the— wait!” He can’t go after her as she slips out of the room because he is still pretty indecent, so he has to pull his pants up and can only rush out then, but by that time she is already gone.

He’s quite frantic as he tries to find her in the bar, but she is nowhere to be seen. Harry returns to the rest of their group, hoping to catch her somewhere but she has vanished into thin air. 

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” he asks Mitch, his eyes still roaming the place.

“Nah, haven’t seen her since she went out to smoke.”

Harry groans and makes his way outside, maybe she’s there waiting for a car, but as he steps out to the street he sees no trace of her. Fishing his phone out of his pocket he doesn’t hesitate before dialing her number. The line rings once, twice and then… it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Do whatever you want after the beep.”

“Fuck!” Harry ends the call and he has to stop himself from throwing it against the nearest wall. 

This is not how he planned. Well, he didn’t plan any of it, especially not fucking Y/N like a horny teenager. He wanted to solve this whole issue between the two of them but instead he just created another one.

A stupid, giant one. 

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[mercy-burning]

A Kindness You Can't Afford

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary: Something that started out as 'stress relief between co-workers' is now a little concerning to you, but for some reason you can't help but keep letting Spencer walk through your door... Rating: Mature (18+) Content: Strong language, unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, blink-and-you'll-miss-it choking, squirting (As always, let me know if I missed anything!) Word Count: 2.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: @imagining-in-the-margins sent me lyrics to Hozier's It Will Come Back to entice me to write something for her monthly challenge (which is themed Friends With Benefits), and then this happened. You can thank her for this. And also Emily Henry, because I read Happy Place and Beach Read back to back recently, and DAMN IT if I wasn't itching to do some romance-writing of my own. Sure, this one is less romance and more porn without plot, but I digress. The inspiration is there and that's all that matters. Plus I've started working on something else that probably won't see the light of day for a long while, but it's nice to feel the motivation. I'm starting to feel like myself again :) I don't know how long this creative sparkling cloud of dust is going to last, but I'm grateful to be living in it, if at least for a little while. It feels good to be there again <3

Enjoy!!

*******

There's a small pit in your gut that only deepens when you hear a knock at the door. A chill permeates your nervous system and sends you off on shaky limbs until you reach it, and as your palm comes in contact with the cool metal of the doorknob, you're disappointed to discover that the contrast does nothing to comfort the hot and clammy skin. Unless the person behind the door turns out not to be who you think, you will not know that comfort.

You open the door anyway, already used to this feeling of unease. It's a feeling you've come to tolerate, and sometimes even crave in desperate moments. Tonight has not seen one of those moments, but you suppose that doesn't really matter because you've already agreed to his terms, and unless you call it off, you're stuck. You've seriously considered doing it a few times, but something deep inside tells you he might not like it very much, and you're unsure of how he'll react.

It isn't a risk you're willing to take.

And so, you meet Spencer Reid with a bright smile, pretending not to know why he could possibly be outside your door past 9pm. He looks a little sleep deprived, but it's nothing new. Your work is exhausting. It was a major deciding factor and is the driving force behind your agreement in the first place. A way to relieve stress. Somewhere along the way, it seemed to have turned into something darker, though in retrospect that darkness has always been there. You often think back to the first time you initiated intimacy— how excited you were that he seemed willing to take you up on the offer... How your head swam through glittering mist and your heart beat quickly at his words.

"God, Y/N, I need you to be sure... Because once we go there, once you let me in... Even after I leave, I'm always going to be there... You're going to feel me everywhere you go, and that's a promise..."

In the moment it even sounded romantic, and in some twisted way, it might still be. But you don't want to let your brain misconstrue this whole situation. You've promptly decided to take it for what it is and accept the fact that he has some deep desires he needs to expel, and you're just a convenient companion for the journey.

"Spencer, you're here late..."

He exhales through his nose. "No later than usual."

"Right... Come on in." You widen the door and confidently step aside like you wouldn't know any different.

Rather than let you close the door, he'd taken your words as an invitation to make himself at home, pushing it shut with his foot and jolting you forward with it, subsequently pulling you towards him. His hands are quick to guide your face to his own, and without a second more in passing, the night has officially begun.

Electricity is immediate, sizzling through your core at Spencer's drive. It's true that when you're alone, it's difficult not to overthink the situation and rope the emotional and logical side of it to the forefront of your mind. But being with him like this dissipates the thinking entirely. All you know is that it feels so good, and it's absolutely worth all the turmoil you put your brain through.

It's worth it when his tongue possesses your own and coaxes the most sinful, desperate noises from the depths of your chest, and when your delicate fingers find purchase in his hair. It's worth it when your back is up against the door with his knee wedged between your thighs. It's worth it when his hand glides down your jaw until each finger curls around your neck, not choking you but simply resting there like a necklace would. He squeezes gently for a second each time you twitch your hips, desperate to feel friction, and you whimper.

You've come to learn that the more noises you make, the more he rewards you with... well, more. So it doesn't take very long for him to decide that enough is enough, and he pulls away from you to turn you around. You brace your arms on the door and lean your head to the left so he can work.

Warm lips attach to your neck as nimble fingers snake around your front and dip below the band of your lounge shorts and underwear. Your insides hum to life, and your legs naturally spread apart a little further, making Spencer laugh against your skin. You half expect him to tease you, but the surprise leaves your body in the form of a rather whorish Oh! when he spreads you apart and glides his fingers through your warm cunt. He explores you thoroughly, circling and spreading and plunging his fingers inside you, until eventually he continues a slow and steady pace running up and down your clit. You can feel it in his breath, in the way it stutters over your neck— He's about to give you your first orgasm of the night. If his skilled hands wouldn't do it (which you know they will), his words definitely would.

"Mmmm, I love how warm you are, Y/N," he slurs into your neck. Then he lightly nips at your shoulder and quickens the pace and pressure on your clit. "And how fucking messy you get for me..."

You know what he wants, but even if you hadn't, it still would have happened. The first time he made you squirt, he'd been determined to do it again. And again. In every different way possible. Over the course of your stress-relief-escapades you've come to learn that this particular way (with his hand down your loose-fitting shorts) is his favorite. He never strives to do it anymore unless you're wearing a pair. Perhaps it's the sounds, or the feeling of your damp clothes and the desperate need to peel them away in favor of something more solid, but it's become your favorite way, too.

Your nails scratch at the door as you pant and sigh your way through an intense building orgasm, and Spencer leans forward with you, using his free hand to assist in holding you up as he furiously works at your clit with the other. His chin rests on your shoulder as he huffs out, "Go on, baby, let it out..."

He knows you're close, and those final encouraging words seem to snap the coil tightening inside you. Your thighs tense for just a second before you feel every wave of pleasure crashing into every limb. And then, you're able to relax and ride it out, letting him hold you up and pull the orgasm out of you like magic. It's wet, it's warm, and it's fucking sensational...

You can practically see the wild look in Spencer's eyes even if you couldn't actually see him at all. His presence is always, as promised, so inherently there, that even now it's a vivid image. His pupils are an empty abyss, and if you look too closely you're sure to fall in. Hell, you're not even positive that you haven't already fallen in, because the thought of calling it all off when it feels this good seems, simply put, wrong. Why would you ever want to deprive yourself of this feeling? His possessive, damn-near monstrous way of loving you as concerning as it is, had taken you to the highest places you'd ever known. Even if it isn't 'love' on paper, you certainly love it anyway. And he must love it, too, otherwise he wouldn't keep coming back.

He only comes back because you let him in in the first place, the rational part of your brain tries to reason, though it can't quite break through the fog of lust. At this point, it's so thick that you aren't sure it's ever going to clear.

Not that, right now, you'd mind...

Once your breathing slows and your legs gather the strength to pivot, Spencer removes his hand from your shorts and gently guides you to turn around. His lips are on yours immediately, and he's tugging at your shorts and underwear to pull them down. They drop to the ground and without a second to spare, he tugs you along through your living room and over to the couch. It's practically a straight shot to the bedroom from here, but apparently time is not a luxury he can afford this evening, because you barely have time to anticipate what his next move might be before he makes it.

Mouths still attached, the two of you nearly fall on the couch, and Spencer's weight covers you like a blanket. His hips pin yours down and his arms have taken to pinning your own above your head. He nips at your bottom lip and pulls away for a moment, but you chase him, trying to lean up and keep kissing him and whimpering when you can't.

A low laugh exhales from his chest. "And I thought I was the needy one in this relationship..."

He shifts then, getting up and kneeling between your bare legs to start undoing his pants. Meanwhile you lift your shirt over your head, grateful you'd already ditched the bra earlier in the afternoon. Less time to waste.

Seeing you completely bare from head to toe and ready for him seems to amplify that animalistic quality in Spencer that's so unlike the aura of the boy you met years and years ago. Whether he had that quality before he'd met you is unknown, but it's hard to imagine. You like to think that you and you alone have single-handedly created this primal sexual being simply by expressing interest in what youcould offer him amongst the joint understanding of the daily hardships that leech onto a BAU agent. Regardless of the truth, the sheer sense of power it fills you with... In every deep stroke of his cock, in every mark left behind, and in every praise sung, there is this irreplaceable strength that you cling to long after he's gone.

No hard truth would ever take that feeling away, and so you can't help the grin that manifests at his urgency. You can tell he wants nothing more than to sink into you immediately; he visibly struggles for a moment before opting to fully slide his pants and underwear off together until they're tossed over somewhere into the abyss. You half-expect him to whip his shirt off to join them, but instead he lunges forward and covers you again, muffling your whimpers with his mouth as one hand guides himself into your slick cunt.

You can feel the rumble in his chest the moment he's all the way in and you clench around him. He rests his forehead to yours and kisses you deeply before asking, "You ready for me, Y/N?"

The low echoing tone in his voice seems to answer in the momentary silence that follows.

You better be... 

It sends a chill down to the marrow of your bones.

You barely whisper out, "Yes," and before the last letter leaves your mouth, Spencer has pulled back and snapped his hips forward, starting a slow and brutal pace inside you. Your legs spread wide naturally, giving him all the room in the world to position himself to handle you however he wants. He opts for holding your breasts in his palms, holding himself steady and pinning you down firmly to the couch cushions.

It doesn't take long for your eyes to start their descent to the back of your head, until they flutter shut and you're seeing stars behind closed lids. His pace quickens, still hard and determined, and yet you know he has more in him. Part of you itches to whine and beg for him to go farther, to push him to his limits and make him fuck you until you're nearly unconscious and delirious. And truthfully, that's still a high possibility, but you also wouldn't mind staying like this forever.

Then, one of his hands shifts and glides up to your neck again. You open your eyes and find Spencer staring down at your body with hair falling down in front of his face and sweat forming on his brow. His mouth hangs open and then grins when he catches you staring, the sight making you sigh out and grip the bottom hem of his shirt with your fingers for any kind of stability.

You're teetering on the edge of another orgasm, and by the way his face is slightly scrunching you can tell that he's not far behind you.

Just the flash-forward thought of him filling you up sends a jolt through your body, and before you know it, your legs are tensing again, and you're yelling out his name in broken syllables as a flood of warmth spreads through your body. For a split second you wonder if you've both come undone at the same time, but this feeling is different and more intense. Familiar.

The sounds filling the room only confirms your conclusion, and then Spencer's words as he pauses and feels you twitching around him.

"Twice in one night, huh?"

You force yourself to look at him, to see the unhinged pride pooling in his eyes as you finish and wait for him to follow suit. It both empowers and frightens you at the same time, an odd combination of feelings that you're sure to have a crisis about in the morning. But for now, you can't help but lean back and watch the ceiling as Spencer grips your hips and starts fucking you relentlessly into the couch.

Finally, he pauses at the hilt inside you and holds himself there, stuttering out expletives and coming. He pulls back and then forwards a couple times, gently rocking himself through it, and then his grip on your body loosens and you're able to pull him down to you.

You wrap your legs around him to keep him still, unwilling to let go of this feeling quite yet. It's there— that strength that he gives you, whether he knows it's there or not.

And in about an hour after you wash up and go to bed, he will be gone, and that strength will slowly fizzle out overnight, and like clockwork, you'll long to feel it again some time after the concern runs its course— After you replay the night in your head, over and over, analyzing every look and every touch and every reaction. After you frighten yourself into believing that he must be in tune with some level of evil to use you for rough sex and then leave you alone during the day and act like it never happened, even though it's literally what you agreed to.

The back and forth will only make living harder, and so you'll push it all away and focus on work. Until Spencer eventually brushes your arm with the back of his hand as he passes you, or hands you a cup of coffee with a kind smile, and then you'll come right back to wondering how such a gentle soul could hold such intensity. It will unnerve you until you tell yourself that it's just the complexities of the human condition and that every soul contains multitudes. You see it every day. It's not uncommon. It's completely normal.

The thought will calm you enough to get you through the rest of the afternoon, and when you get home, you'll settle in for the night without a second thought. You'll make dinner, watch a show, read a book, endlessly scroll online, or talk to Penelope about whatever show she's watching... You'll keep yourself busy.

And then the sun will set. Your house will grow quiet. You'll start to feel it: the small pit in your gut that only deepens when you hear a knock at the door. You'll meet Spencer Reid with a bright smile, pretending not to know why he could possibly be outside your door past 9pm.

So, yes. For now, you will hold onto him a little longer and bask in the afterglow of this exercise in 'stress relief'. Because even if it doesn't mean anything greater, and whether there's even anything within Spencer's motivations to decode in the first place... This moment in time, each time, is the most relieved you ever feel.

Your fingers flex gently over his shoulders, and through the soft, even exhaling of his breath across your cheek, you know for certain he feels the same.

*******

PERMANENT TAGLIST (tags not working are struck out): 

@starrylang @xoxospencerreid @lovejules888 @awesomebooklover17 @yourmisosoup @gubswh0re @venomsvl @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @umbreonwolfy @hotchandspencearedilfs @spencerreidsmommy @abby2661 @youabitchhhh @reidsbabe @shemarmooresfedora @donald4spiderman @moonlight-2-6 @chaoticcatie @flipperpenguins @muffin-cup @centiaaa @foreveryoungxx3 @happymangospot @matthew-gray-gubler-lover

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

[anni1309-blog]

please more step brother smut with felix. it was amazing !:)

that’s so kind of you to say, thank you <3

here you go 🎀

felix catton! stepbrother x reader

warnings: smut, face-fucking, slight size kink, semi public

summary : felix is stressed out during exam season and needs relief

felix and you were like royalty at oxford. it’s not like felix’s family lineage isn’t royal anyways. they were always surrounded by a small crowd. some might even call them admirers. it wasn’t hard to love them, always kind and friendly, charming everyone with their beautiful looks.

when someone was looking for felix, you weren’t far either. this was felix’s way to protect and show his love for you. you two weren’t siblings by blood, but that didn’t stop felix from taking care of his baby sister.

sometimes gossip was heard about your close proximity to felix. you would admit that your relationship is definitely closer than most normal stepsiblings might be but your love fell so deep for each other you wouldn’t have it any other way.

lately though, felix grew a little more distant. you knew that the exams were getting to him, he was always so determined. you would only see him when at night he would sneak you into his dorm, pulling a blanket over you while holding you close and softly stroking your hair while you would cling onto him placing your head on his chest. you missed him, more than you would admit. his heart broke knowing he had less time for you, he yearned for your touch, your giggle and your adorable smile when you sat in his lap during break. but he couldn’t have any distractions from studying.

when you woke up the bed was empty. this was your breaking point. felix would normally wake you up to give you a little kiss goodbye or at least leave a note. there was none of this today. you bursted out in tears and started sobbing uncontrollably. when you calmed down a bit, you got ready to face felix to pour out your heart. putting on makeup was no use to your red and puffy eyes from crying.

you made your way to the library, which was almost empty since it was still very early in the morning. you found felix sitting in the back, surrounded by books writing down notes.

he looked up “good morning baby, did you have a good-“ he stopped, his initial reaction was that he was happy to see you but his eyebrows furrowed when he saw your distressed expression. he knew he had to make time for you now, so he wordlessly scooted his chair back and opened his arms for you to sit on his lap. you took a seat there and clung to him tightly, which he returned.

“lix, you were gone this morning, and I was all alone, I don’t even see you that often anymore, I- I just miss you so much” you sniff slightly as big tears fall from your eyes.

“shhhh, I know sweetheart, I hate it too, but you know how it is, I’m just very stressed right now” he pulls you close rubbing you back softly cooing quietly for you to calm down a bit, takes your face in his hands as he wipes away your tears with his thumb. he hates seeing his girl like this, it upset him deeply.

felix took your chin between his fingers to tilt you head upwards to slowly capture your lips. this wasn’t new to you two, he kissed you often, also in public, he knew it made you feel safe.

“lix? would it be okay for me to try something to relieve your stress a bit?” your big eyes looked up at him with a small smile as you relaxed a bit.

“sure princess, I’d love that but what do you want t-“ his words got stuck in his throat when you slowly dropped to your knees, already trying to fumble at his belt, opening it.

felix was almost shocked at your plan but obviously wasn’t appalled by your idea. none of you cared that you were in public, people wouldn’t come by until later in the day. your nimble fingers pulled the zipper of his pants down slowly, your lips parting and mouth salivating in anticipation.

he caressed your cheek with his thumb looking down at you with soft but hungry eyes, signaling that you could do whatever you felt comfortable with. as you continue undressing his pants his fingers were back at your face, his thumb brushing over your wet bottom lip and pushed his digit past your lips and into your mouth, and you sucked greedily.

you slowly pulled his already hardening cock from his underwear, giving his tip soft kitten licks to which he threw back his head in pleasure, brushing your hair, slightly buckling his hips towards your mouth

“you can use my mouth lix, I can handle it, I promise” lapping at his slit and batting your eyelashes up at him innocently.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, doll” he groans at your invitation and didn't waste a second to shove his cock into your mouth, pushing your head down his impressive length.

gurgling and gagging you looked up at him for reassurance that your were doing fine, he slowly started moving his hips, fucking your mouth.

“such a good doll, doing so good f’me” he praised in a deep voice. your doe eyes just looked at him, tears escaping them as he kept diving himself into you thrusting in and out of your mouth quickly and desperately as you moaned around him.

he shifted his hips forward so you could take him further down your throat “such a tiny mouth, taking all of me hm?” he grinned proudly his other hand cupping your jaw and holding your mouth open for him as you choked around him, saliva escaping your mouth.

“you can take it, hm? my good little angel” he grunts looking down at your face tears just streaming down your face now. you hummed happily, the vibrations sending a shock through him that made him twitch and ram his hips forward into your mouth harshly.

“gonna come in your mouth okay doll? you’re gonna be a good girl and swallow it all right?” taking out his dick for you to answer and traced your glossy lips with his tip, your tongue darted out to flick over it and relish in his salty taste as you looked up giving him affirmative nods.

his thrusts became more frantic, feeling close, he lets out a long, gutteral moan, holding your head there as he thrust his hips up feeling your nose press against his pelvis, cumming down your throat.

“I know it’s a lot, be strong,” he groaned as he continued to spout cum, it was so much you thought you might bloat but swallowed all as he pulled off, you were coughing at bit.

you looked wrecked but smiled up at him proudly as he leaned down to kiss your lips softly taking your face in his big hands to admire you.

“what would I do without my favorite girl?”

[nnight-dances]

ONE KISS, ONE LOVE

PAIRING: park wonbin x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive dialogue but nothing explicit

TROPES: established relationship!au, idol!wonbin, age gap vibes but no real mention, reader babies wonbin like he deserves to be, texts at the end, just sickening sweet stuff

WATCH: wonbin's night routine

NOTE: inspired by the video above! once again, these wonbin fics write themselves ... he might be my favorite boy to write rn or maybe that's just my way of coping!! anyway don't be surprised if i just start spamming u with the wonbin fics i just have too many good ideas. but they're all gonna be set in this same established relationship style, he's just so bf coded lol... anyway, enjoy <3

you've been in bed for a good twenty, clad in cream pyjamas and skincare intact, when you hear the frontdoor open – signalling your boyfriend, wonbin's arrival. you pause the video you're watching on your phone and sit up to greet him, "bin? welcome home." his heavy footsteps stop where his figure finally comes into your view.

wonbin looks wiped out, no doubt, eyes shadowed by his somnolent lashes. he stares at you for a moment before humming, the sound halfway between a thank god you're here and i could die right now. he peels his layers off with speed, black leather jacket hung up on the tree-shaped rack near your closet and his other outerwear finding its place on the small cabinet next to it.

you watch fondly as even in his fatigue, he patiently makes sure no outside clothes pollute the bed. as soon as he's in nothing but his white tee and boxers though, he jumps onto you, deflating the air out of you like a body pillow.

"hello," he mumbles, face disappearing into your chest where he snuggles closer. 

"hi, love," you welcome him warmly, fingers carding through his hair as a force of habit. you breathe against his limp body, letting him unwind on top of you as he often does. it's a silent activity, a night routine of sorts for wonbin on his longest days. he'd trudge home and settle close to you, wordlessly like a cat looking for soothing. 

sometimes, you talked to him about your day and he'd hum along, eyes on yours telling all you needed to hear. other times, you would go back to doing whatever you were doing – watching a show, playing a game, or talking to a friend – while he recharged. he even insisted it worked best when you were just doing your own thing.

today, you do neither. setting your phone aside, you occupy yourself with wonbin himself, first meandering through his charcoal hair and then trailing down to his neck, tracing hearts and stars into his skin. you can feel him relaxing under your touch, his face finally coming back into your vision. 

"tired," wonbin says, voice coarser than ever. "need to sleep." 

"i know, baby," you croon, "wanna wash up first?"

he shakes his head adamantly, "no. sleepy."

you laugh softly, "angel, i'm sure you are but you can't sleep with your makeup on, can you?"

"had a few drinks with taro hyung," he murmurs as if that explains his behavior.

"really? you had time after practice?"

"he snuck it into practice. beer after all that sweating was nice."

"wow, look at you," you muse, hand brushing his bangs out of his eyes, "you sound like an old man."

"i am," wonbin pouts, "let the old man go to sleep."

"sorry, love, i can't do that," you say.

"rude."

"say what you will," you sit up fully, pulling your sluggish boyfriend with you. ignoring his groans, you kiss his nose, "wash up, okay? can't have my rockstar breaking out because he was too lazy to wash his face before bed."

he groans again but this time it's an endearment, his kiss on your cheek disguising his smile. "but i can't move, y/n. please."

"i'll help you," you snake out of the sheets, squatting as you heave wonbin out as well. he stands up unwillingly, head wilting like a sad flower. you laugh, pulling him toward the washroom, "will you listen if i do all the work?"

that gets the job done alright because two minutes later, wonbin's settled against the sink with you between his legs. you crane around his tall limbs to reach for his products, having memorized his night skincare by now. 

cleansing balm in hand, you carefully cover every inch of his face, the makeup turning into oil gradually. "okay, babe, now rinse your face for me."

"you said you'd do all the work!" he complains without missing a beat. 

you glare at him, "i can't possibly wash your face without making a mess of both of us."

"sounds like an excuse to me."

sulking, he turns around, washing the balm off. next, you go in with his foam cleanser, gently circling his cheeks and forehead. despite all his earlier declarations, he watches you attentively, his hand loosely clasped around your waist to keep you in place. you have to scold him midway at one point when he gets cheeky and sneaks a hand down your pyjamas, feeling the hem of your panties. 

eventually, you dry his face off with a hand towel. "there," you peck his cheek, "all clean."

when he doesn't let go of your waist, you raise a brow at him. "you only love me when i'm clean," he scowls, "don't you?"

you narrow your eyes at his tantrum, "i think you're forgetting how i'm sacrificing my screen time before bed to clean you up right now."

he looks unconvinced as he tails you out of the bathroom. he's about to throw himself back onto the bed when you stop him by his hand. "change first," you explain, pulling out fresh pyjamas and throwing them at him. 

wonbin stands idly and it's only when he starts raising his arms up that you realize he wants you to do it. you sigh, "bin, you're such a baby today." but you smile as you pull his shirt off, disregarding the way he instantly flexes when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. slipping his pyjamas on, a piece at a time, you clap when he's done.

"i would make a great mother," you pat yourself on the back.

"you can adopt me if you want," he shrugs and you snicker, "i don't think i need to." 

"you want anything to eat before you sleep?" you ask as if you hadn't quite literally brushed his teeth. "chocolate," he says without any conviction and you roll your eyes at him, watching as he launches himself at the bed.

"quick, come here," wonbin whines. you pad over to your side of the bed and join him, giggling when his body curls around you instantly. his nose finds its indent against your neck this time, cold and fresh. 

for a minute, you think that's all you'll hear out of your boyfriend for the night. but it's just as you're about to reach for your phone when he speaks up again, "sorry if i'm boring."

you're not sure if your ears hear right, "what?"

but his voice is solemn, "...i'm probably kinda boring lately. so i'm sorry."

you turn on your side to face him completely, hand coming to rest against his cheek. "bin, you idiot. you coming home is the best part of my day."

"really? even though i'm too dead to do anything?" he perks up but his eyes gloomy, "we don't even fuck anymore. or go to the movies. or go out at all."

you laugh, "you're making us sound like an old couple on the verge of divorce, baby. you're just busier because of your comeback! i'm so excited and you should be, too."

"i am. but i don't want bore you."

"you don't, though. i'm lucky enough i get to see you at night and take care of you when i can. plus, it's not like you won't have more time after your promotions, right? we can do everything you want then."

wonbin blinks at you, his cool hand finally coming to meet yours where it was still caressing his cheek. he kisses your palm, "thank you. i'm glad."

"of course, love. now, go to sleep or you'll regret it tomorrow," you chirp, rolling over and shutting the lights off quickly.

"...you really would be a great mom," wonbin laughs at your behavior. 

"good night, wonbin."

"good night, mom."

you hit his arm at his brazenness but when he just laughs again, the sound is too sweet for you to even pretend to be mad. so instead, you hug him closer, hand on his bicep and his legs tangled with yours. 

–

bin: I AM FREE AT LAST

bin: FROM THE SHACKLES OF IT

you: …

you: how would ur fans react if i leaked our texts

you: so much for being mysterious

you: "shackles of it" boy have you ever touched a book

bin: okay so you're rude today

bin: i miss y/n mom version

you: ew?? if u have a kink i dont think this is gonna work

bin: because…? 

you: is sungchan still single

bin: i was kidding! haha!

you: ok.

bin: seriously tho let's do smth fun 2nite

you: i get off work late today :(

bin: whatttt you have a life outside of me :0

you: do you WANT me to break up with you???

bin: what i meant was i will be there to pick you up <3

you: wtv man idgaf anymore

bin: noooo

bin: i'll do anything you want don't be mad

you: anything?

bin: well other than leaking our texts ofc

you: i want to live together

bin: ???

bin: we alr do

you: wonbin 

you: baby

you: you just always come over to my place

bin: i sleep there it's my home wdym

you: and you still pay the bills for your place?

bin: i don't make that bag for nothing

you: ok so what if we lived together instead

bin: but i really like your place!!

you: i do too

you: let's make it our place 

bin: shit

bin: i just actually blushed irl

you: :) 

you: is that a yes

bin: i want to marry you

you: okay well let's calm down

bin: did u just reject me

you: i'm telling u that you're gonna regret proposing through text

bin: i love u and i want u to be my wife

bin: omg i just shed a tear at the thought of calling u that

bin: wife…. im changing ur contact name

bin: or should i change it to fiancée? since we havent yet tied the knot

you: park wonbin

you: we are 20 years old

bin: untrue

bin: im 22 

you: i am not marrying you right now

bin: … is there someone else

you: i'm not marrying anyone right now

bin: ok so i'm not husband material

you: you are

bin: i'm not father material? you: no comment

you: but we aren't ready babe

you: let's take it slow k?

you: just move in first

you: we have so many memories to make

bin: you're such a flirt

you: ??? u just asked me to marry you but sure

bin: i'll be moved in by the time you come back home

you: i thought you were picking me up

bin: that was before u asked me to move in

bin: now i have to bring all my stuff over

bin: which side of your closet can i use? bin: also thoughts on letting me keep my rock collection next to your figurines?

you: right side and no

bin: wow u didnt even think about it

you: imagine we get into a fight

bin: i refuse to

you: i'm just saying i would be tempted to throw them rocks at u

bin: you would do that????

you: depending on what u do

bin: why are you expecting me to do anything at all????

you: …experience

bin: wow

you: to be loved is to be known

bin: you can't flatter me now

you: i love you 

bin: …

bin: i love you too

[wintrwinchestr]

obedience | part 2

summary: a week ago, you and joel had experimented with a new kink, and it’s been on your mind ever since. you had been too shy to ask to try it out again, but joel always knows exactly what you need.

warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink, pet play (egregious use of “puppy”, joel teaches you dog commands and refers to your hand as your paw, among other things), d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, praise kink, degradation/dumbification kink, cockwarming, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampie, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, etc), talk of reader wearing a collar, joel giving reader a bath/washing her hair, hella aftercare, reader has hair and can be carried by joel, implied age gap but reader is an adult, let me know if i missed anything!!

word count: 5.7k

a/n: literally nobody look at me please. this the most self indulgent self insert shit i’ve ever written in my life and if you get it you get it idk what else to say!!! anyway thank you for being patient with me and reading what i write, my big girl job takes it out of me sometimes but that’s what i write this type of shit to deal with <3 nice comments and reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed or if this awakened something in you :)

(read part 1 here if you missed it)

dividers by @saradika

“You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

It had been a week now since Joel had punished you, denied you for acting out over the phone, for disobeying him and sending him lewd photos of yourself when he had explicitly told you to stop. But you hadn’t listened, he wasn’t having it, and when he had returned home from work late that night, he had called you by a new name. Puppy, he had spat at you several times as he made you chase a ruined orgasm on his steel-toed work boot. 

The pet name hadn’t left your mind since then, repeating itself over and over, along with his question of if you wanted to be trained, if you wanted to be his pet. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself becoming desperate for it. Each day in the office was a struggle to stay focused on even the simplest of tasks, your thoughts overrun with fantasies of Joel getting you on all fours for him, giving you commands and praising you for following them, tugging you towards him by a finger hooked into a collar to tell you what a pretty puppy, what a good girl you’re being for him.

You’d left work every evening for the past several days with a damp spot in the seat of your panties, feeling ashamed by how depraved and inappropriate almost every one of your waking thoughts had become. When you would greet Joel at the door all needy and wanting, he would tease you with a “What’s gotten into you, lately, hm?”, but never push for more than you were willing to reveal to him, though he thought he might have had an idea. He would take you to the bedroom and have his way with you the way you liked, the way you had usually craved, before he had turned your world upside down by deciding on a whim to try somethin’ new that fateful night. 

Joel would be more than willing to try it again, to follow through with that question he’d asked you, but he decided he was content with waiting for you to come to him, for you to decide when you were ready for him to make you his good puppy once more.

–

The weekend begins just like any other. Joel’s internal clock wakes him up no later than seven in the morning, the sun just barely streaming in through the blinds in your shared bedroom. He tries to keep his creaks and groans to a minimum as he rolls out of bed, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before quietly padding his way into the kitchen to get a sizable pot of coffee brewing. He lets you sleep for another couple of hours, knowing full and well at this point in your relationship that he has the wrath of your grumpy morning attitude to face if he doesn’t. He does think it’s cute, though, how your face twists up into a pout but your eyes stay scrunched closed if he wakes you up at a time you deem too early.

When Joel does decide it’s a sensible time for the two of you to get a proper start on your generous two days off from the slog of your weekday jobs, he cracks the bedroom door open gently, making his way over to your still-sleeping form. He softly brushes some of your knotted hair out of your face as he places your mug of coffee on the nightstand beside your head, prepared just the way you like it. Whatever happened to good ol’ fashioned cream and sugar? Or just plain black, for that matter? Can’t believe you like it with all this cinnamon vanilla whatever you have me dump in it, he had teased, not long after you had first started sleeping over at his place. Can’t believe you drink it without anything in it. It needs at least a lil’ somethin’ sweet in it, you had bantered back to him, to which he was quick to reply with Got my somethin’ sweet right here, don’t I? before pulling you into his lap and kissing you hard until both of your cups ran cold.

You smile at the memory in your half-sleepy state, slowly blinking your eyes open to see Joel’s warm and familiar smile. “Mornin’, sweet girl,” he says, his grin only growing wider when you greet him back with the cute little squeal that comes out when you stretch your arms over your head instead of an actually intelligible word. “Got some emails and borin’ stuff to catch up on this mornin’, why don’t you just stay comfy and sip on your coffee while you wake up for a bit, hm? Probably be done in time to get lunch together somewhere, how’s that sound?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you reply softly, real words this time, as you push yourself up to sitting while Joel props your pillows up behind you for your back to rest against. You don’t put up much of a fight against the yawn that stretches your jaw, rubbing your blurry eyes as it does.

“Alright, gimme a kiss, sleepy girl. Enjoy your creamer with a splash o’ coffee,'' Joel taunts through a chuckle. He presses his lips to yours, and his coarse beard tickles the skin around your mouth, making you giggle. The smile hasn’t completely faded from your face by the time he slips out of the bedroom to head into his office, shutting the door gently behind him.

Extending a hand down to your nightstand, you hook your fingers through the mug’s handle and slowly bring it up to your face, careful not to spill any. He’d chosen your favorite Daddy’s Girl mug, the phrase written in bold pink text curved over a little illustration of two blue daisies. You always thought your coffee tasted a little better from this mug, somehow. Taking your first sugary sweet sip, you think the sentiment is as true this morning as it’s always been.

–

A little while later, when you feel somewhat more awake thanks to plenty of caffeine and sugar working its way through your body, you finally force yourself into comfortable clothes different from the ones you slept in. With your hair sufficiently tamed, face washed, and teeth brushed, you decide now’s as good of a time as any to try and act on the plan you’d been concocting over the past couple of days, waiting for a moment just like this to pounce on.

You still felt too shy to bring it up to Joel, to tell him how badly you’ve been wanting him to treat you like his little pet, and go even further with it this time. You know he’d never judge you for it, and he had seemed to like the experiment just as much as you did. But something about your little fantasy still felt taboo and shameful, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to use your big girl words and ask for it.

Though, you had finally realized, maybe you didn’t have to ask for it. Maybe you could quietly tip toe into his office one lazy Saturday morning and sit at his feet, nuzzle into his thigh until he brings a hand down from his keyboard to scratch behind your ear, asking you What’re you up to down there, babygirl?

And that’s exactly where you’ve found yourself now, answering his question with a dreamy whimper, leaning into his touch as the feeling of his fingers on your skin makes you smile so blissfully, wiggling on your knees.

“What’s got you feelin’ so snuggly this mornin’, hm? Just need some lovin’ from your Daddy?” he asks in his still-rough morning voice, gazing down at you affectionately.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his calf and rubbing your cheek against the soft leg of his sweatpants.

“Alright, lil’ thing. Just got a couple more emails to take care of and then I’m all yours, promise.” He removes his hand from your scalp to start typing again, and you pout in protest. 

Joel shoots a stern look down to you. “Poutin’ don’t typically get us what we want, now does it? Be patient, sweetheart, just a few more minutes.”

You release another upset noise, louder this time, and then he’s pushing his rolling chair back, your grasp around his leg coming apart as he does.

“Came in here actin’ so good and sweet, where’d this bratty girl come from, hm? If there’s somethin’ you want, gotta use your big girl words and ask for it, you know that,” he scolds, his expression becoming more serious.

You hadn’t meant to elicit this reaction from him at all, and it causes your eyes to well up as you stare at the carpet, avoiding his gaze. Opting to answer him with just a shrug, you fidget with your fingers in your lap to distract yourself from the sting behind your eyes. You do attempt to open your mouth and make your desires known to him, but think better of it, and any big girl words you did have swirling around in your brain are replaced by yet another half-hearted little whine.

A whine that sounds… a little familiar to him. 

“Oh, I see…” Joel muses, a little less authority in his voice as he assumes a more relaxed position in his desk chair. “I think I know what’s goin’ on here.”

You look up to meet his eyes, tilting your head in confusion. The action prompts his lips to tug into a knowing smile, and he leans forward in his seat, making a beckoning motion with his hand. “C’mere, baby. Between my legs.”

You obey immediately, crawling towards him to close the small distance between you, settling in a kneeling position between his spread thighs. “Good girl,” he praises, and the words make you beam as he cups your chin, the moisture that had been blooming along your water lines now forgotten.

“Think I know why my sweet girl ain’t usin’ her words with me this mornin’...” Joel says, scratching at the soft skin under your chin with his fingertips. You can’t help but lean into his touch, lashes fluttering, and it’s enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Reckon it’s because puppies don’t know to, hm? They just whimper and whine for attention from their Daddies cause they don’t know how to talk, ain’t that right?”

You let out a pathetic little noise when he finally says the word, the one that’s been dampening every pair of panties you own for the past week, but that you’d been too scared to ask to hear again. But you were right after all, you didn’t have to ask for it, because Joel always knows just what you need, somehow.

He uses his grip on your chin to nod your head up and down for you, and continues talking down to you in that gravelly tone of voice that makes you feel like you’re about to melt straight through the floor. “Yeah… ‘F you wanna be Daddy’s lil’ puppy this mornin’, tha’s alright with him. Figured you oughta be missin’ it by now, seein’ as how you liked it so much the first time around…”

You’re barely processing what he’s saying, your lips slack and eyes unblinking as your cunt releases little pulses of slick into your panties. Something about Joel seeing through you so clearly, calling you out on your newly discovered kink and using it to pull you hard and fast into this familiar saccharine headspace, has your whole body burning hot with arousal. 

“And if I know one thing about puppies, it’s that they need some trainin’, don’t they? ‘Specially impatient ones like the pretty thing I’ve got sittin’ at my feet. Don’t you agree? Don’t speak, just nod, babygirl.”

It’s unusual for him to request a nonverbal response, as opposed to a Yes, Daddy, but you’re grateful for the change as you allow yourself to fall deeper into your role. You give him what he asks for, a couple of eager nods in quick succession, even though you aren’t quite sure where he’s going with this yet.

“Asked you twice to be good and patient for Daddy, and all I got was poutin’ and whinin’ instead, didn’t I? Think my lil’ pet oughta learn her first command today: Wait. Because good puppies know how to wait for their treats, don’t they, sweet girl? Again, just nod for me.”

And you do, slower and with a little more guilt in your expression this time. But despite him making you admit to your disobedience, you’re not sure you’ve ever been more fucking soaked than you are right now. You’re throbbing, aching, shifting on your knees in an effort to get even the smallest bit of relief. You think you might be releasing little whimpers, but you can’t be sure, already feeling so floaty and far away from just his words alone.

Joel spots your desperate movements, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts in his chair, adjusting for his own arousal, and gets an idea.

“On second thought… Got another command I might like to teach you first. Somethin’ a lil easier for that dumb puppy brain of yours to understand, hm?” He tilts his head at you, lips curved into a mocking pout.

Your eyes flutter and roll to the back of your head involuntarily, his degradation prompting the instinctual response from you. Another syrupy slow nod lets him know you’re ready to learn, to obey to the best of your ability.

“Alright, sweet thing. When I say paw, want you to put your hand right on my knee here, ‘kay?” Joel explains, patting his muscled leg for clarity. “Paw, baby, gimme paw,” he coos at you, his tone not dissimilar to the one he uses to speak to actual dogs. 

Forcing your brain to work through the dense cloud of submission that shrouds it, you lift your hand and place it on his knee, just like he had demonstrated. His enthusiastic reaction to your obedience startles you at first, but you break into a beaming grin when you see the proud expression he wears.

“Good girl, tha’s a good girl,” he praises, scratching at the top of your head and ruffling your hair. Using his touch as a distraction, Joel places your paw over his hardening bulge with his unoccupied hand, the thick shape of him prominent through his thin sweatpants. He tightens his hand on top of yours, prompting your fingers to squeeze him. He guides your hand into massaging him for a second or two more, long enough for your melted puddle of a brain to connect with the nerve endings in your fingers. Your breath hitches when you realize what it is you’re feeling, your blissed-out expression morphing into a more desperate, wide-eyed one as you focus your attention to the movement of your hands.

“Yeah, feel that, sweet girl? Feel what you do to Daddy by bein’ so good for him?” He prompts, and your thighs squeeze together as you grope him. You can’t help but draw your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on it to stifle the needy whimper that threatens to escape.

“You wanna sit on it, pup? Hm? Wanna keep Daddy’s cock nice ‘n warm while he finishes up his work?”

Your aching cunt squeezes around nothing at the premise, and you nod so hard it makes you dizzy. You move to push yourself off the floor and stand up, but a firm hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Ah ah, gotta use your words this time. Speak, baby,” Joel commands, and it takes you a second of searching to find the ability to do so again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, wanna s-sit on it…” you answer softly, and you’ve never heard your own voice sound so wanton. It comes out in a pitch that you almost don’t recognize as your own, featherlight and dreamy and desperate all at once. The need in your voice alone is enough to satisfy him.

“Good girl, just learnin’ all kinds o’ tricks today, aren’t we? Trainin’ you so well… C’mon up here, babygirl,” he permits, and uses his big hands and sturdy forearms to assist you in your awkward and eager climb into his lap. “Take it out, baby, get your treat.”

You whine as you situate yourself atop his thighs, tossing your head back with a dramatic flair, overwhelmed and frustrated by all he’s been asking of you. You just wanted him to turn your brain off, to praise you, to not have to think while he plays with you however he wants, and instead all he’s been doing is asking you to listen, sit, speak, obey. But of course, you should know better by now, that Joel likes making you work for it, to wait for it.

“Hey,” he scolds, grabbing your face and pulling your head forward from where it had flopped between your shoulder blades. “You were doin’ so well, bein’ such a good, obedient girl. Don’t start actin’ up on me now. Could always change my mind, not let you have your treat after all. You want that?”

 “No, Daddy…” you admit, your words distorted through the way your cheeks are squished together. He’s not using much force, just enough to keep your focus on him. 

“‘S what I thought… Go on then, pup,” Joel commands, and you make quick but clumsy work of freeing his already leaking cock from the loose confines of his sweatpants and briefs. He lets go of your face in favor of placing both of his hands on your hips, lifting you up while you pull your loose shorts and panties to the side, maneuvering his length to just barely prod at your wet little entrance. You flit your eyes from where the two of you meet back up to meet his gaze, hesitating while you look to confirm your permission one last time.

“Sit, puppy,” he says through a smirk, and you release a sharp whimper as you sink down onto his cock. 

On instinct, you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between Joel’s neck and shoulder, rolling your hips back in preparation for a satisfying buck forward. His grip on your skin turns iron, holding you in place and preventing you from chasing after your pleasure.

He cuts off your pout with a strict, “I say you could move?”

“Mmph– No, Daddy,” you mumble into his firm muscle.

He huffs a mocking breath through his nose. “Really are jus’ a dumb lil’ thing for me, ain’t you? You already forget what you’re ‘sposed to be learnin’?” “‘M sorry, Daddy–” the embarrassment from his demeaning words makes you squirm, and his grip on you becomes bruising.

“Don’t need you to be sorry. Jus’ need you to listen. You’re gonna wait like a good girl ‘til I say you can start grindin’ that messy lil’ puppy cunt on me. We clear?” he orders, his deep baritone traveling straight from your ear to your needy core, the dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock already damp as a result.

You hug yourself closer to him, little fingers clawing at his t-shirt in an attempt to ground yourself, and nod meekly.

“Speak,” he spits again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, clear…”, you whine, managing to lift your head up just enough for your voice to come out a little more coherently.

“If I let go so I can finish up my work, you gonna behave and hold still for me?” 

You don’t seem to have a choice, but you agree, anyway. “Mhm, yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Now wait,” Joel instructs.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, the incessant clicks and clacks of Joel’s keyboard and mouse becoming more and more irritating with each passing second. Those sharp mechanical sounds, the vibration of his chest against yours whenever he clears his throat, the feeling of his pulsing cock as it splits you in two, it’s all so fucking much. You can’t help but release little whimpers and whines, pathetic pleases and Daddys that he either shushes or chooses to ignore. Any slight movement you make in an attempt to relieve some of the ache, he just responds to with a coo of wait, pup, and the tone of his commands as you twitching, clenching around him, soaking his cock more and more. It has to have been at least fifteen or twenty minutes by now, and at this point you’re sure he must be clicking around his desktop aimlessly just to drag out your training a bit longer.

Eventually, the noises stop, and Joel breathes a sigh as he replaces his large hands on your hips, their touch much more gentle this time. You lift your head from his shoulder to face him, wide and watery doe eyes frantically searching his face for a sign that the wait is over, that you’ve finally earned your treat. 

He grants you a soft smile, lifting a hand and using it to just barely grasp your chin, tilting your head side to side as he admires you.

“Got such a sweet girl in my lap, don’t I? Knew she could be good, just needed a lil trainin’ hm?”

You nod, already feeling so overwhelmed that your mind has started to drift elsewhere, to the relief you’ll hopefully be feeling in just a few minutes, after he’s finished toying with you.

He releases your chin, ghosting his hand downwards along the column of your throat, stopping when his thumb and fingers are resting on the tops of your collarbones. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just admires the placement of his hand for a moment, then hums.

“Neck would look so pretty with a collar wrapped around it, don’t you think, pup? With a lil’ heart-shaped tag danglin’ from it, engraved with my name so everyone knows that you belong to me? That you’re my puppy, hm?”

Fuck.

The sentiment alone, the domination and ownership of it all, has you crying out your most pathetic noise so far this morning, eyebrows peaked with need as you bite down on your lip so hard you think you might’ve drawn blood. Joel predicts your reaction, clamping down on your hip with his other hand to stop you from moving before he’s decided you’re allowed to.

Again, you nod, willing to agree to anything and everything he wants from you if it means you’re getting closer to getting what you want from him, what you need.

“Say it, baby,” Joel demands of you, his voice calm but commanding.

You tilt your head at him, humming a confused little noise, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Say it, c’mon,” he repeats. Your foggy brain is on a second or two delay, but it catches up eventually, and you realize what he wants to hear.

“I’m y-your… ‘m your puppy,” you say, softly, your voice tinted with embarrassment. 

“Wha’s that, sweetheart? Didn’t quite hear you. One more time for Daddy.”

You swallow hard, inhaling a shuddering breath before repeating the phrase a little louder, with a little less control. “I’m your p-puppy, Daddy. I’m your puppy, ‘m Daddy’s–”

“Yeah, y’ are, fuck.”

He moves his hand from the base of your neck back to your hip, and uses his strong grip to hold you still while he begins a series of sharp but rewarding thrusts in and out of your swollen cunt, each one seeming to hit deeper and deeper inside you. Falling against him once more, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face into him while you let him fuck into you like a doll. His movements are quick and desperate as he growls an incoherent string of filthy praises in your ear, his words accompanied by the sloppy wet sounds of skin on skin.

“Perfect girl, Christ, tight lil’ puppy pussy feels so fuckin’ good, always feels so fuckin’ good. Such a good girl, such a good goddamn girl for Daddy.”

The harsh bounce of your body in his lap jostles every last one of your thoughts from your brain, and he relishes in the animalistic cries and yelps you mumble into the flesh of your upper arm, now damp with your drool. He must feel the moisture as it pools underneath your face and wets the thin fabric of his t-shirt, because then he’s laughing at you, spewing more obscene words at you as he spears you up and down on his cock.

“Shit, are you fuckin’ droolin’ on me, sweetheart? Got this messy cunt and that pretty mouth both soakin’ me, Christ. This cock make you that dumb, hm? You Daddy’s dumb puppy?”

You are, you both fucking know you are, so you agree and repeat it back to him to the best of your fucked-out ability because you know it’s what he wants to hear. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to hear it too, the self-degradation lighting your whole body on fire as some of that heat forms itself into a tight ball in your tummy. 

Joel’s hips begin to stutter, his hold on you starting to falter, complete sentences turning into sharply whispered expletives as he nears his orgasm. He can feel you squeezing around him, notices the telltale sign of your muscles tightening and your breathing coming out in short bursts, and uses that four letter word against you one last time.

“Not yet, babygirl, don’t you fuckin’ come for me, not ‘til I say. Wait,” he spits through gritted teeth.

You were so ready, just teetering on the edge of your orgasm, all you needed was a few more jackhammering thrusts and you’d be careening down the steep cliff of it. It takes everything in you to hold it in, to not let go. But you’ve been so good for him, and Joel doesn’t have it in him to torture you much longer, and he permits you to finish just a few minutes later.

“Alright, come, puppy, come for Daddy,” he orders, and you spasm in his lap with a debauched cry, that ball of heat in your tummy dispersing through your bloodstream, igniting every one of your nerves and sending sparks flying behind your eyelids. He reaches his high at the same time, spilling his release inside of you the way you both like.

It takes a few moments for the both of you to come back into yourselves, heaving chests eventually matching each other in a more relaxed rhythm. Joel softly scratches at the back of your head while you place delicate kisses mindlessly along his neck and up behind his ear.

“You were so good, sweetheart. Always take everything I give you so well,” Joel quietly praises next to your ear. He touches his lips to the side of your head, then your temple, then gently maneuvers your face so that he can press a final kiss to your forehead. Your eyelids flutter open in response, and your lips tug into a sleepy grin as you focus on his face. “There she is, my beautiful girl.” He sweeps a few tangled locks of hair away from your face, and even though you know you must look like a mess, you let him admire you anyway.

“Still up to go out for some lunch? After we get ourselves cleaned up ‘n all,” Joel asks, shifting his gaze down to where his spend leaks from you, staining both of your clothes a darker color and dripping onto the fabric of his desk chair.

You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a bit before shaking your head.

“No? Tha’s alright, sweet girl, don’t blame you one bit. You’ll still let Daddy get you cleaned up though, won’t you sweetheart? How’s about I run you a bath with some o’ that new flowery bubble bath you just got, hm?”

You light up at the premise, nodding eagerly, and Joel flashes his handsome smile at you in return. “Alright, hang onto me, baby,” he says, and you wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders as he scoops you up and carries you to the bedroom, his softening cock still nestled inside you. The two of you detach when he sets you down on the small, handmade wooden bench adjacent to the tub, and leaves only for a moment to retrieve your favorite pink blanket from the living room. He wraps it around your shoulders when he returns, and starts the bath for you. He makes sure to squeeze a generous amount of the bubble bath into the roaring stream of water, ensuring that the bath is sufficiently fragrant and relaxing.

When the tub is full, with mounds of white soap bubbles threatening to spill over the smooth porcelain walls, he helps you strip out of your clothes, tugging your bottoms down your legs as you remove your own top over your head. Joel offers you one of his hands to steady yourself with as you step into the bath and lower yourself into the steaming water. It feels perfect, because just like he knows exactly how you take your coffee, how you want to be fucked without you having to ask, he also knows the almost-too-hot temperature of bathwater you prefer. 

He allows you to wash your own body, while he uses the cup you keep by the tub to douse your hair with water, using his rough fingertips to massage your favorite coconut shampoo into your scalp. You’re almost done scrubbing yourself by the time he’s raking conditioner through your damp ringlets, and then he’s rinsing you clean, the humid air in the room now smelling like a dozen different flowers and fruits, all of them mixing together to smell definitively like you. It’s his favorite scent in the whole world.

You don’t exchange many words during your bath, mostly enjoying the intimacy of the activity in silence. The action alone is enough to let you know how deeply the two of you care for each other, how much you trust and love each other.

When the water eventually runs cool, Joel helps you out of the slippery tub, and wraps you in one of your plush bath towels, a lighter shade of pink than your blanket, but just as soft.

“I’ll let you finish up in here, and I’ll see about orderin’ us some delivery, hm? I’ll get you whatever you want, and we can throw on a movie to watch while we eat, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds good, Daddy,” you reply, the bath leaving you feeling refreshed and more like yourself, able to find your voice again.

You settle on ordering your favorite fast food, and it arrives shortly before you tiptoe your way into the living room, your wet hair now pulled up into a clip while the rest of you is dry and comfortable, wrapped in a soft lounge set and your cozy blanket.

“There she is, the Poky Lil’ Puppy,” Joel teases, removing your containers of chicken tenders and fries from the plastic bag they arrived in, setting them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You giggle at his quip, settling down on the cushion next to him. “I’m not… poky, or whatever,” you reply, in a tone of voice that isn’t sure if you’re supposed to feel complimented or offended.

He looks at you in minor disbelief for a second, then moves his head and brows in a gesture that suggests something like touché. “It’s the name of a kids’ book. Written a lil’ before your time, I guess.”

“Oh… I’ll take it, then.” You settle against Joel’s warm, sturdy form as you munch on a fry, watching the TV screen as he flips through the most promising of the half dozen streaming services he’s subscribed to. “You know…” you start, but let the rest of your sentence drift away, not sure if you want to continue.

“Yeah, babygirl?” he replies, and it encourages you to finish your thought.

“I really liked, um… what we did today. Earlier,” you continue, doing your best to push through your shyness in an effort to get better at communicating your desires with him.

Joel pauses his browsing, putting the TV remote on the table so he can meet your eyes. “In my office, you mean?”

You can’t help but smile cheekily at the memory. “Yeah… I really like being called… that, I think. And if you don’t think it’s too weird–”

“Course I don’t, sweetheart. Would never judge you for likin’ what you like. If it makes you happy, makes you feel good, if it ain’t hurtin’ anyone, then there’s nothin’ wrong with it, baby.” Joel’s turned his upper body to face you now, to make sure you understand the sincerity of his words.

You smile, and his reassurance gives you the confidence to continue. “I really like that… collar idea,” you admit softly. “Maybe we can try that next time.”

He tucks his tongue into the pocket of his cheek, his face forming into a satisfied expression. “Thought you might. Keep bein’ Daddy’s good girl, he just might get you one. Maybe a matchin’ leash, too, somethin’ to tug on when I need you to listen.”

Your eyelids perform their involuntary flutter, a quiet whimper escaping your lungs at the thought. 

“Alright, settle down now, baby,” Joel says through a chuckle, shaking his head before kissing the top of your head affectionately. “Got all the time in the world to try whatever we want. Just focus on eatin’ your lunch for now, sweetheart.”

You snuggle up close to him after he starts the movie you both decided on, happily eating your salty and savory meal as you watch. For the rest of the afternoon, you feel warm and satisfied for a few different reasons, the most important one due to how grateful you are to have Joel.

He takes care of you, understands you, and loves you like nobody else ever could. And it’s mornings like these that make you especially aware of that fact. You’ll be his good girl for as long as he wants you to be–forever, hopefully–and he’ll always give you exactly what you need in exchange for it. 

Even if that something might be a collar with his name on it, fit for his perfect little puppy.

tag list (no pressure if this one isn't your thing!!) @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw (if your name is crossed out it won't let me tag you!!)

[genshin-obsessed]

When Someone Flirts with You! | Honkai Star Rail

Someone saw this coming and I'm very proud of you for figuring it out. Yeah, I've been getting into star rail and I thought I'd just write since I can't really think of genshin things to write right now lol this is barely edited, so have mercy <3 idk tags rn so please help me out :') ✧ Includes: Dan Heng, Welt, Sampo, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Blade ✧ Extra: Luocha and Blade might be ooc, I'm not too familiar with them as of right now. ✧ Come one, come all! See what happens when someone flirts with you in front of your men!

Dan Heng

Dan Heng is a really private person, he’s not a fan of showing off everything. So he’s not one to flaunt you around, but it’s not hard to tell you’re both in a relationship. He’s around you like… all the time.

He’s not one to follow around like a helicopter boyfriend, but he’s got an eye on you. If he sees someone bothering you, he’s behind them in an instant.

0/10. Dan Heng’s not super scary so they could ignore him and continue flirting with you. For a moment, he’ll just stand there as he listens to some of the dumb things they’re gonna say. You two make fun of them later for it. But then he hears something along the lines of, “come on, i’ll treat you better.” he don’t like that. 

How is this creep better than him?! They couldn’t even tell you were uncomfortable. Dan Heng will usually place a hand on their shoulder and his grip gets tighter every second the creep is still in front of you. Paired with his glare…

10/10 the creep is gone. You sigh in relief and walk to Dan Heng quietly, wrapping your arms around his waist. He immediately hugs back, stroking your hair a little.

“Let’s go somewhere else. I don’t like it here anymore.” You agreed.

Welt

Well, he doesn’t hang around you 24/7, he’s a busy man. But it’s also not hard to tell you’re dating either. Welt isn’t crazy about PDA, but he’ll give you a quick kiss every now and then and often gives you hugs (per your request).

He believes you’re capable of taking care of yourself, so he’s often not paying attention. That doesn’t mean he won’t look over at you every now and then. This time, he just happened to see some creepy creep trying to creep up on you. 

“Are you ok, (y/n)?” Is the first thing he asks when he walks up to you. He will literally ignore the existence of the creep beside him. Usually what happens here is that you’ll nod and he’ll “accidentally” shove the creepy away and urge you to come talk with him and his friends. The creep is usually so confused they walk away. But sometimes- sometimes- they follow.

Welt does NOT like that. I mean it was one thing to not take the hint from your face, but then to stop you when you’re actively trying to leave?

Welt will turn around and just glare at them. Like that silent, “I will kill you” kinda glare. It’s a staring contest for a moment before the creepy creep just kinda turns away and leaves. Sometimes, Welt does have to smack them with his lil cane. Sometimes.

“Anyway, we’re over here. Would you like a drink?”

Sampo

Sampo is all over you, usually. He loves you and the world should know? Sometimes, he can go too far so just let him know. Anyway, since he’s always over you, people know you’re dating him.

Usually at parties and events, he’s hanging off your arm, but sometimes he’s gotta go talk to some of his other friends and acquaintances. He keeps an eye on you.

Here’s the thing, he’ll come up and flirt with you too but try to one up the creep. “You look fine, darling,” - the creep. “You look so beautiful, every star in the sky and the moons pale in comparison.” - Sampo.

0/10. Of course, the creep gets irritated and asks what the hell Sampo is doing. Sampo just gives him a condescending smile and says, “that’s my partner you’re talking to. I’m not gonna let you just creep up on them.” There’s… a glint in his eyes that’s unnerving. Even you can see it.

69/10. The creep runs off, making some excuse or whatever. Sampo watches them for a minute before turning to you and smiling. You rush to give him a hug and he happily returns it.

“Wanna go home? Seems like that idiot trashed your mood a little.”

Gepard

Gepard is a very shy guy and he’s not one to be all touchy-touchy without you doing it first. He gets all flustered and looks away… but he’ll lean into your touch.

He usually sticks around you, keeping your attention so no creepies come by, but sometimes he gets pulled away. He always lets you know he’ll be right back and leaves for just a few moments. Enough for a creepy to sneak in >:0

When Gepard notices the creep, he wastes no time walking over to you. “Is everything ok?” He asked, looking at you. If you shook your head, that was it. The captain of the silvermane’s came out!

The first glare is usually a 50/50. Sometimes, the creeps acted all annoyed and walk away, pretending they’re not scared but other times… they challenge him. Gepard just places a hand on their shoulder and shoves them back. It’s actually surprisingly strong- they’ll fall over sometimes.

10/10, that usually sends them running. On rare occasions there’s that ONE creepy who just stands up and tries to take him on lmao. You know to take a step back because Gepard kinda skips the arresting and just goes to ass kicking. And he’s the shy boyfriend.

“So… we should go now. Yeah, no, just leave the creep there.”

Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan isn't the most affectionate boyfriend, but he doesn’t mind letting people know you two are together. Depends on your comfort level.

He’s a busy man, so at that fancy event, he can’t always be at your side but he tries to keep you by him. Of course, you decided to go get a drink, he happily agreed. You went off and he kept greeting more officials. You didn’t return, so he looked over and he just saw you turning away from a creep who just grabbed your arm!

Jing Yuan elegantly excuses himself and basically sneaks up behind the guy. He’ll stand there which brings you tons of relief, enough to let the creep ramble and ramble and ramble. “I could take you out to dinner, (nickname you don’t like). I’ll buy you (food you don’t like).” “Actually, they don’t like that. And they don’t like being called that.” The creep jumps away and is standing beside you at that point.

5/10, honestly, some just get scared and leave. There’s the other half though that just kinda scoff and look at you. Before they can even say anything, Jing Yuan grabs them by the shirt and force them to look at him. “Do not speak to them like that. Do not look at them, and don’t even think about them. You leave now or I’ll drag you out myself.”

10/10!!!!!!!!! They are GONE. No sign of them for MILES. Jing Yuan huffs and looks down at you. At this point, everyone’s looking at you two, making you extremely uncomfortable. He’ll stand beside you and pull you close, using that half of his jacket thing to cover you.

“We can leave. I’ll deal with everything else later. Come on.”

Luocha

This man is unpredictable. Sometimes, he’s grabbing your hand to prove your dating, others are just a straight kiss. You don’t mind. Either way, the world knows you two are together.

Luocha doesn’t mind leaving you alone, he’s got confidence in himself and you. That doesn’t mean he’s not there as your backup. Creeps creep on a daily- he’s gotchu. He sees the creep and he’s already walking toward you.

“No!” You exclaimed with a frown, “I'm not interested. Leave me alone.” Luocha didn’t mind scaring the creep off… but it was when they grabbed you that kinda set him off. “Hey.” Is all he says as he grabs their wrist to shove their hand away. 3/10. SOMETIMES people do get scared off by his demeanor. But there’s always that one. Our favorite.

For those guys, he’ll just get physical. There’s just this switch that goes off when it comes to you. 10/10. They’re either gone or out like a light.

“Come, we should go somewhere else.”

Blade

Lol. First of all, people know you’re dating this dude because you’re still alive while hanging off his arm. He’s not affectionate in public other than some sweet words. “You look nice today.” “I think you did well.” Things like that.

Blade can… be a helicopter boyfriend because he just has a 6th sense for creepies. You can be doing your own thing and he’s just standing there. Menacingly. There are days where he’s away from you, but he keeps a sharp eye on you. Then he notices the creep.

“Go away.” You say with a huff as you turn away. “Stop!” You yell, trying to pull your hand away. Suddenly, the creep is silent and frozen. You probably know exactly what happened.

You feel your arm come loose and look behind you to see Blade pointing… well his blade at the creep. He doesn’t say anything and the creep can’t help but just feel the icy fear in their veins. 10/10, Blade doesn’t fail.

“Thank you.” You say with a sigh as you run and hug his arm, looking up at him. Blade sighs and looks down at you, feeling that relief in his chest knowing that you’re fine and right beside him where you should be.

“It’s because you look cute today. Let’s go somewhere else.”

[girasollake]

Can you please write something for Mattheo Riddle with academic rivals and if we get caught I’m blaming you

Tyty <3

✧ mattheo riddle x fem!reader x academic rivals x "if we get caught I’m blaming you"✧

( this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )

❁ i love all variations of enemies to lovers hihi, anyway this might have some mistakes which i’ll probably fix in the future

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

You stormed out of the class the moment it ended. You couldn’t stand his remarks and comments on every topic, often resulting in an argument where the teacher had to step in to end it. You huffed and went outside to get some fresh air, Pansy followed your steps and you both sat down on the cold pavement. She took a cigarette out of the box and placed it in between her soft lips. To her surprise, you looked at her and extended your hand flat so that she could share one with you. She saw you smoke like at best - three times, throughout all the years she’s known you. You hated that smell, because whenever you smelt it he was somewhere close.

‘You want-‘

‘Yes.’ You cut her off and she silently placed a cigarette in your hand. ‘Don’t question it.’ You muttered as put the thing between your lips as well.

‘I wont.’ She mumbled as she pulled out a lighter.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled the smoke, both the taste and the feeling of smoking made you cough a bit. Pansy kept her mouth shut, but her eyes never left your figure.

‘What?’ You turned to her, still clearly upset.

‘Nothing.’ She sighed and took a puff. “I just think you should pay less attention to him, he sees that this rivalry makes your blood boil and he uses that to get a rise out of you.’

You didn’t reply for a moment, thick smoke slowly escaping your lips.

‘But I can’t let him win.’

‘You have been fighting for the best grades since i can remember, why are you so obsessed about it anyway?’

‘I-.. I don’t know. I just dont want to give him the satisfaction of being better than me.’

She nodded slowly, ‘You comin’ to the party on tomorrow?’

You sighed, ‘Probably not. We have classes on Monday.’

‘And? You have the whole Sunday to study’ She replied. ‘Mattheo will be there, you both need to relax for one fucking night, right?’ She tilted her head and smirked.

‘I still won’t go.’ You replied and took another puff.

‘Ohh come on!’ Pansy whined and she grabbed your arm to shake it roughly. ‘Pleaseee… I dont remember the last time we went to a party together..’

You looked at her and sighed deeply while closing your eyes, ‘I’ll think about it.’

She chuckled, ‘Merlin, you are so easy to persuade.’

‘You want me to say no?’ You remarked and she raised her hands in defense, her lips in a thin line so that she wouldn’t say anything more.

During supper on Saturday the Slytherin party was everything anyone could talk about. The more things you heard about it the less you wanted to go, but the previous day you agreed to Pansy’s request, now regretting it fully. You moved your fork around your plate, sometimes taking a bite of the food but mostly playing with it. As soon as you could exit the Great Hall you hurried to your dorm. After what felt like four hours of looking through your closet, you finally found the most decent outfit for the party. It started at 9 p.m. but you arrived an hour and a half later. After all you said you’d come, not when. You spotted Pansy in the crowd easily, she was currently engaging in a possibly flirtatious conversation with Theo Nott. You liked him, unfortunately, because it meant wherever he was Mattheo fucking Riddle would be close by. This time wasn’t any different. You slowly squeezed your way through the crowd of drunk students and tapped Pansy on the shoulder after reaching her side.

‘Why are you so late?’

‘What do you mean? I thought the party started at 11?’ you replied sarcastically.

‘Yeah, sure you did.’ She jokingly rolled her eyes at you.

‘Hi Theo.’ You gave him a smile.

He gave you a nod and went back to slowly sipping his whiskey. A moment later you felt someone squeezing between you and Pansy to rest their arms on both your and her shoulders.

‘Hello ladies, can I get you anything?’ A chirpy voice asked.

You chuckled, ‘Hi Enzo, nice to see you too.’ You wanted to add you didn’t want anything but Pansy was quicker.

‘Yeah, we both want the strongest thing you have.’

‘Wha-‘ You tried to interfere.

‘Our friend here needs to take her busy mind off of things.’

And with that Enzo nodded in understanding and disappeared into the crowd with a smirk.

‘Pans, what the fuck?’ You raised your voice.

‘Relax, you need a night off.’

You scoffed.

‘If he is having fun then you should too.’ She replied and nodded towards something.

You turned around to see Mattheo on a couch, sloppily making out with some Ravenclaw girl.

‘I’m gonna puke.’ You turned to Pansy. ‘That is not my idea of fun.’

‘I’m not saying you have to hook up with anyone! All I want us to do today is to get completely plastered tonight!’ She pleaded. ‘Please?’

You wanted to reply but before you could Enzo had brought the drinks. Part of you knew this was gonna have consequences, but the other part of you was like fuck it. You sighed and with a smirk took the beverage from his hand, you listened to the second option.

The night was full of dancing and drinking, mostly the second one which led to you sitting in a circle at 1:45 am, playing truth or dare. You were laughing at Fred Weasley’s poor try to do a split when he suddenly gave up and drank his shot as punishment. Then the bottle landed on you.

“So, truth or dare?” He asked you with a cocky smirk.

“Dare.”

To be honest, you would have chosen truth if not the fact that you were already a bit drunk.

“I dare you to go in a closet for 7 minutes with Riddle.” He and George started sneering.

You locked eyes with Mattheo and without thinking replied.

“I’d rather take a shot than spend a second with him alone.”

He scoffed at you, “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You picked up your glass and the liquid soon started burning your throat.

On Sunday morning you woke up in your bed, how you got there though - you had no idea. You slowly sat up and felt like your head was going to explode in any moment. Then you remembered why you don’t get drunk, but it was too late to change that. You spent the rest of the day in your bed, away from any noise that would make this pain worse. You tried opening some books to study, but with this hazy mind and eyes not focusing on any sentence you quickly gave up and threw them to the side. After all, not studying for once wouldn’t bite you in the ass, right?

Monday morning was much better, you did your routine and the pain was gone. You quickly hurried to class and sat down next to Pansy just before the clock struck 9:00.

Professor Binns entered the classroom and everyone expected another boring lesson, where he hopefully falls asleep. Instead, he cleared his throat and told everyone to only leave their quills and a piece of paper on their desks. The students started looking at eachother in confusion, Binns had never done any sort of test without announcing it before.

“Today, I want to see how much you lot remember from the last few classes, there will be three questions, answer them briefly. You’ll have 10 minutes.”

Your eyes widened so much you thought they would pop out from the eye sockets. You were screwed, not only you hated this subject because you couldn’t remember much from what Binns was saying but you also haven’t studied because of this stupid party.

Everyone started groaning and trying to bargain with the professor but he was persistent. You scribbled the questions quickly as he was saying each one of them and you realised you don’t know anything.

“Shit.” You whispered to yourself.

You saw Mattheo giggling across the room and writing on the paper. If only you could read his mind and copy the answers, but you couldn’t. You started writing anything that came to your mind, none of it was probably right, but maybe you’d get some points for trying. Unlike Berkshire and Nott who didn’t even write the questions down.

When the time was up all the papers flew directly into the professor’s hand. The rest of the class went by much quicker and as soon as it ended you stormed out of the class.

At the end of the day you found yourself in your dorm, studying whatever you learned that day in class. You picked up your History Of Magic book and started flipping through it in order to write down the correct answers to the questions which you luckily remembered. They turned out to be way complicated than you thought, you were officially screwed. Before reading them you at least had hope Binns would give you some points, now the hope has vanished.

Then, out of nowhere, a crazy idea popped into your mind. You turned to the side to see your roomate sleeping soundly and slowly got up from your bed and went over to the door. Holding your hand over the knob, unsure of your choice, you sighed deeply.

“Fuck it.” You whispered to yourself and exited the dorm.

This was not a good idea and you knew it. But it was better than being worse than Riddle. At least that’s what you were telling yourself as you walked through the dark corridors of Hogwarts Castle. At night it was even harder to find the correct classroom where the professor would’ve kept the tests.

It felt like you have missed the correct room at least 10 times already, this was too hard. You were about to give up when you heard shuffling in the classroom a few metres away from where you stood. The door was slightly agape and there was a soft blue light coming out, someone was surely using lumos. You took a few small steps and remained as quiet as possible, peeking your head through the door you saw someone going through the desk drawers as quietly as they could. The person stood up and when your eyes landed on those messy curls, you instantly recognised him.

“Riddle?” You whispered as you entered the room. “The hell are you doing here?”

He looked up in horror, but immediately relaxed his stance when he saw it was you.

“I could ask you the same question.” He placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Looks like we had the same idea. Didn’t think you were one to break the rules, though.”

“What do you mean?” You scoffed.

“You came here to replace your test with the correct answers, didn’t you?” He smirked at you and pointed to the piece of paper you were holding.

“Why are you here?” You avoided his question.

“For the exact same reason, love.” He waved his paper sheet.

“Don’t call me that.” You replied and came over to him. “I saw you giggling in class, surely you must’ve known the answers.”

He shrugged his arms, “I was giggling because I knew I was screwed.”

You rolled your eyes at him and took a look around the class.

“Have you found them, then?”

“I don’t think they are here.” He nodded towards the desk.

You went over to the cabinet on your right and opened the shelfs, finding your tests in the lowest one.

“You are so daft, Riddle.” You gave him a smirk and waved the papers in front of his face.

He scoffed at you and took them from your hand. He started looking for your names and you both successfully replaced your tests.

“I wanted to be better than you and now we are gonna be even.” You sighed.

“I’m always better than you, though.” He replied.

“No you are not.” You hissed.

“Mhm.”

“I’m going back to my dorm. I can’t stand another second with you.” You huffed and started walking away.

Mattheo didn’t respond, instead he smirked to himself, put the tests back in the drawer and started silently following after you.

“Fuck off Riddle.” You whisper-yelled at him when he caught up to you.

“Why do you want to be better than me so much?”

“Just because.”

You didn’t even know why, you just knew you couldn’t be worse than him. This unspoken rivalry had been going on for far too long and you never understood why it mattered to you so much. You stopped walking and looked up at him, even though it was dark you could see his soft features. You opened your mouth to say something when a soft meow echoed through the corridor. Mattheo instantly grabbed your hand and pulled you into the nearest room, which happened to be a small closet full of different jars containing various herbs. You felt his warm breath on your face.

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.” You whispered.

“Can you shut up for one second?” He whispered back.

“I’m just-“ He stopped you by putting his hand over your mouth.

You heard someone walking next to the door behind which you were hiding. You closed your eyes and tried to calm down, but feeling Mattheo’s warm hand on your face made you even more nervous. You slowly reached up and took his hand away. Your eyes were flickering between the door and each other’s faces. The light from a lamp Filch was carrying shined through the bottom of the door. It lit up the room to the point that you saw your enemy almost clearly. He looked… pretty. Saying you didn’t find him attractive would be a complete lie. You realised how close you were to each other, his body heat making you get goosebumps. This is the closest you had ever been and for the first time you didn’t find him annoying. His eyes were glued to the bottom of the door, waiting for Filch to go past the room. Slowly the light started fading and so did his features you were studying, like the scar on his nose you never noticed. You wondered where it was from.

“I think he’s gone.” He whispered which got you out of the trance.

“Hm?”

“Filch.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” You whispered and turned your attention to the door.

Mattheo kept his eyes on you, little did you know he also felt nervous with being this close to you. He noticed you were still holding his hand, you didn’t let him go after taking it off of your mouth. He changed the position of your hands, interlocking your fingers. It took you by surprise, but you didn’t show any reaction, visibly. He led you through the corridors as you slowly made your ways to your dorms. You were about to let go of his hand and head off to your room when he tightened the grip.

“Guess you fulfilled the dare after all.” He beamed.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“The night of the party you said you’d not spend a second with me and now you’ve spent much more than that.” He smirked.

“Wow, you are so full of yourself.” You let out a breathy laugh and a soft smile grew on your face. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t.” He reciprocated the smile.

You both looked down at your intertwined hands and slowly let go, your hand going back to hanging at your side.

“I still hate you, though.” You said with a smirk and started slowly walking away.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” He replied with the same sentence he did the night of the party and smirked at you as well.

“Night, Riddle.”

“Night, love.” He replied and you rolled your eyes at him, but smirked to yourself after you were out of his sight.

The next morning History of Magic was your last class, which meant Binns had probably already graded your tests. He shook his head and said he is disappointed, as only two students got a good grade. You and Mattheo looked at each other and he sent you a wink.

“Stupid bastard.” You whispered to yourself, hiding your smirk and trying to ignore the feeling in your stomach.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

© girasollake 2023

i feel like this is bad .. sorry for the wait guys i am TRYING ..

[moonstruckme]

Hey!! I’ve spent most of my day catching up on my reading goal for the year, on your blog. I love your writing!! I wanted to know if you could write something poly!marauders where the reader comes home from work early due to chronic pain (winter weather sucks sometimes), and the boys take care of them? Pls add your own spin however you see fit! Hope your day is going well! :)

And happy holidays!

Thanks so much lovely, you're too sweet <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Breathe, angel,” James reminds you, eyeing you worriedly as he sinks into downward dog. “Deep breaths.” 

“I’m breathing,” you sigh, following him down. The movement, the stress it puts on your legs and back, aches, but you feel better than you had when you’d come home. 

You weren’t expecting James to be here (he typically likes to get out of the house on his days off, too energetic and cabin-fever-prone to stay in) but he hasn’t let you have even a moment of peace since you’d come in the door, unannounced and several hours from the end of your workday. He’d first tried to get you to go on a walk, but the frigid weather outside is what had doomed you in the first place so he’d settled for pulling up a short, low-intensity yoga video on his laptop. 

A small part of you resents him for it, just a little. The smarter part of you is grateful. 

“Just a bit longer,” James says, likely sensing your growing discontent. “After this we can get you a warm bath. Or a massage, if you like.” 

You hum a weary thanks. Either of those sound great, but a nap would be spectacular. You want to evanesce. Sink into a sleep beyond pain. 

The serene voice on James’ laptop guides you into a cat-cow pose, but you’re only starting your first cat when you hear the click of the door opening. You turn to James in confusion. He won’t quite look at you. 

You recognize the loud clunking sound of Sirius kicking off his shoes a moment before he comes into view. 

“Ooh, yoga.” He’s smiling, but there’s a watchful quality to his gaze as he drapes himself across the sofa. “Mind an audience?” 

You shoot James an accusatory look. “Why’d you call him?” 

“Excuse me,” Sirius says, reclaiming your attention. “Do you not want me here?” 

You give up on the yoga, sitting on your mat. “I don’t want you to have to leave work,” you say quietly. 

Sirius tsks, sliding off the couch and moving closer to you. “I couldn’t have been productive while I was worried about you anyways. Figured I’d save my boss the money.” His smile slips, a tiny pucker appearing between his brows. “You alright for a hug?” 

You answer by opening your arms, and he gathers you up. He doesn’t squeeze the way he normally might, hands careful on your back, but it’s still nice. 

“How bad is it?” he asks, turning his face to mush the words lovingly into the side of your head. 

“Not bad,” you murmur. 

“I’d say it’s pretty bad,” James contends gently, “if you had to come home from work.” 

You turn your head to look at him, offering a sheepish shrug. “The yoga helped some.” 

James’ smile is lopsided, eyes flickering with relief behind his glasses. Sirius isn’t so easily convinced, loosening his grip on you so he can see your face. Despite how used to it you should be, it’s still an effort not to shrink under that gaze. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, if he finds it or he doesn’t, but a few moments later Sirius’ hands slide up to your face. He kisses the skin next to your nose lightly. 

“Let me make you some tea, sweet girl,” he says, standing. “You’ve had pain meds already, yeah?” 

You hum that you have, and James says after him, “Not the chamomile, it’ll just make her sleepy.” 

You try not to sulk as Sirius calls back, “I’m not new here, Potter.” 

James is trying to get you back into the yoga when the door opens a second time. If you hadn’t gotten there by process of elimination, the soft, considerate footfalls would have let you know who it was. 

“Oh, hi,” Remus says when he finds you and James already waiting for him. Pity softens his expression as his eyes fall on you. “How are you, dove? Is the yoga helping?”

“It was,” James grouses, though his little smile lets you both know he’s only teasing. He extends his arms out in front of him, beckoning with his hands. “Come here, give us a hug. She got to go first last time.” 

Remus doesn’t put up any argument. James stands as he comes forward, weaving one arm over Remus’ shoulders and the other under. 

“I am ailing,” you point out. When Remus angles his head on James’ shoulder to give you a concerned look, you add softly, “Not terribly, though.” 

Remus chuckles, pushing a spindly hand slowly up and down James’ spine. The other cups the back of his boyfriend’s head, sinking into his plush nap of curls. “I think you’ve worried him down to the bone,” he observes. 

There’s a noncommittal hum, followed by a muffled smacking sound as James kisses Remus’ shoulder. 

“Have you considered that I’m just soaking up all the hug I can get?” 

“Nefarious,” Remus murmurs lovingly. 

“I leave the room for two seconds, and of course a lovefest commences.” Sirius strides in with a steaming cup of tea. “It should be outlawed. I feel swindled and scorned.” 

“You got to go first,” James argues, but Remus extricates himself from his hold anyway, folding a leg under himself to sit on the couch. 

“Irrelevant.” Sirius sets your tea down on the coffee tables, using his free hand to wave James off. “Do either of you want tea?” 

“No thank you,” Remus says while James shakes his head. “You didn’t give her chamomile, did you? Because that will only—”

“No,” you all say, you rather mopily. 

You scoot towards the table and reach for your tea. Sirius settles into the couch, leaning his back against Remus’ side. 

“Alright,” James relents, shutting his laptop, “we can call it quits on the yoga. We were basically at the end of the video anyway.” His big hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Want one of us to get a bath ready for you, lovie?” 

A whole new ache starts up, right in the center of your chest. You set your tea back on the coffee table, too hot to drink, and lean your head on James’ shoulder. Your throat clogs slightly. So, so sweet to you. A bath does sound nice, but you’re not sure you can commit to it. That’s at least a half hour between you and sleep. 

“Thank you,” you say, making sure he hears the sincerity in the words, “but I think I just want to go to bed.” 

James’ sigh is so soft you think you’re not meant to hear it. “It’s a bit early for that yet,” he says, thumb swiping back and forth on your shoulder. “How about a massage?” 

“I’m tired,” you complain, and you try not to whine but a bit of it comes through anyway.  

“I know, love,” Remus says, leaning his elbows onto his knees so that his face is nearly level with yours, “but if you nap now you won’t be able to sleep tonight, and then you’ll be tired all over again tomorrow.” He reaches across the coffee table, the tips of his fingers brushing yours. “This is to help you, I promise.” 

You let your little sigh fan cool air over your tea, raising it again to your lips as you nod. 

“Go for the massage,” Sirius says. He raises his eyebrows at you, grinning like he’s letting you in on some sort of secret. “Trust me, babe. Jamie missed his calling with that one. Hands of an angel.”

You look over, and James is grinning so hugely you wonder if his ears pop. “Alright, fine.” He shrugs, feigning reluctance. “After I’m done with her, you can have next turn.”

[pantherxrogers]

Dating Luca (The Bear Headcanon)

Content warnings: kinda smutty 18+ only, explicit language, there's fluff too :)

A/N: Idc how much screen time Luca got, he has a whole personality in my head LMAO 😩 I hope you guys enjoy more Luca content! This is super short, but I had so much fun writing it 😄 My requests are wide open, so let me know what you'd like to see next! <3 If you liked this, please like/reblog! It means a lot! 😘

Summary: A short headcanon of what I imagine it'd be like to date our fav pastry chef 🥰

Let’s start with the fluffffff 😊

I feel like most of the reason we all love Luca (aside from the fact that Will Poulter plays him) is that he’s so gentle (but have you guys heard the term Stern Brunch Daddy?)

Let’s say you’re not very good at baking, doesn’t matter because he’s fully committed to teaching you. He will literally start with something as basic as baking a cookie from scratch and later making more complex desserts. It doesn’t even matter how long it takes because he just enjoys being around you :’)

Speaking of spending time together, Luca’s love language is defffff quality time.

When he spoke about learning from the chef who was much better than him (Carmy??) it made me think about how much he would enjoy just being around the person he loves. Whether you’re baking, watching a movie, or even napping together, the pair of you are like magnets.

He shares his love of food with you every chance he gets (he wants to combine two of his greatest loves 😭)

Going out to dinner with a chef is always a unique experience, but no matter what he’s letting you choose the restaurant (if he has to choose he'll just wind up cooking something for you at home since he can make it better anyways)

Thinking about how he’d definitely bake a birthday cake for you, spending hours on it because it needs to be perfect 😪 (he could bake a cake in his sleep but this isn’t just ANY cake)

He asks you to sample everything whenever he's coming up with a new menu item, he trusts your judgement and knows you'll be honest with him

When he’s working late, he tells you not to wait up for him (much to your displeasure) but every morning, you wake up to a new dessert in the fridge 🥺

He’s been doing it since you moved in together just because he knows it makes you smile (he’ll even leave little notes behind, sometimes silly, sometimes super sappy) you eat it up regardless

Now for the smutty stuff 😈

In the beginning of your relationship, Luca is SUUUPER shy. Like to the point that you have to literally spell it out that you want him to make a move. 

Like Carmy, he doesn’t really have much time for socializing, so he might miss the cues that you throw at him. 

The first time Luca spends the night at your apartment, he’s sure he’s going to pass out on like three different occasions 

1. When you open the door, you’re wearing a satin robe that leaves very little to the imagination (He’s hard before he even sits down)

2. You’re baking together in the kitchen, taking every opportunity to bend over and "grab a mixing bowl", flashing your lacy thong in the process. 

3. When you move into your bedroom because you’re getting “tired”, you ask him to unhook your bra for you, making a show of sliding the robe down your shoulders. And whoops! It just so happens to fall to the floor. 🤗

By that point, you’re done with the subliminals, pushing your ass back, feeling him straining against his jeans. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands (it’d be adorable if you weren’t painfully horny rn)

“Luca, you can touch my boobs if you want to, I swear I won’t mind,” you playfully tease him, shifting into a sigh when his hands immediately connect with your sensitive nipples. 

That’s actually how the both of you found out that manhandling is one of the quickest ways to turn you on

Later in your relationship, he makes a show of tapping your ass (when it’s appropriate of course)

He casually shows his strength a lot because he knows it gets you going (thinking of him picking up those packs of flour 😓)

Both of you love the soft moments too. He’s a passionate lover, so slow, gentle sex is always amazing

Back to our regularly scheduled, fluffy programming 😋

Overall, I see Luca as a sweet, loyal boyfriend. The way he spoke about the chef he shadowed (again, do we think it was Carmy??) it seems like he really values the close relationships in his life

Of course, he values his relationship with you the most, always wanting to be the best version of himself for you (and vice versa) 🥰

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@wakandamama @wakandama2 @blowmymbackout @nolita-fairytale @douceurrrr @mercang @eddiemunsonreader @cryobabyy @superhoeva @kdoxkeic

[harrygoeswest]

Infatuation On A Mutual Level

You and Harry are housemates and are both secretly quite fond of one another.

A/N: Woooo she’s here!!! I loved writing this one shot a lot and I really hope it shows. I haven’t had motivation to write for ages and this year I’ve really come back to it and I’m so happy. I hope you all love it as much as I do. She’s special to me. Special mention to the only person who ever wants to read for me @all-things-fic​ <3 Please come tell me what you think afterwards!! Katie x

Trigger Warnings: sexual content, brief mentions of loss, nightmares

Word Count: 18,777

~.~.~.~.~

Now

Every morning was the same.

The creak from the only bed on the first floor began the day. Then the gush of the tap in the shared bathroom. The kettle in the kitchen on the ground floor. The door closing when George left for the day. Then again 15 minutes later when Rhys did. Abbie starting the shower immediately afterwards now her boyfriend was gone. And then the only thing that ever made your skin prickle:

Harry’s door opening.

Every morning you would roll over at the sound, away from it. God forbid the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ ever pinned you with that warm, green-eyed stare first thing in the morning through the open gap of your own bedroom door. No, you might never be able to survive such a thing.

Living in a shared house was hard. Not least because you felt responsible for the place itself; owned by your single dad who would do anything to bring in what income he could, including taking more rent off his eldest child than he’d like. An argument arose regularly over your living situation but it was hard enough filling the fourth bedroom with a tenant. Living in the third was the least you felt you could do. The building was in dire need of some TLC but it wasn’t exactly an affordable fete. Sometimes the ceiling leaked on the second floor when it rained thanks to some shabby scaffolding work a few years back; the main reason why it was so hard to let the fourth bedroom. Part of you didn’t want to.

It was also hard in a house share because people were messy and you had a horrendous phobia of general mess. If you could quit your job and play full-time housekeeper you absolutely would. But your dad wouldn’t allow that. “Not in my lifetime,” He’d say with the gentlest scowl.

But the hardest part, by far, was being in such close proximity to the man who rented the bedroom across the hall. You weren’t sure why you were so terrified of him. Scarred by your original encounter with him, perhaps, but he wasn’t actually scary. He was, rather annoyingly, the nicest person in the house. Constantly aloof, yes, but still the poster boy for gentlemen everywhere.

Maybe if you spoke to him you’d learn he’s just a normal bloke, your inner voice trilled.

“Shut the fuck up.” You hissed into your pillow.

You waited for the inevitable sputter of the shower starting up again, and then rolled out of bed, threw on the clothes you’d hung up on the wardrobe door the night before - clean white shirt and grey trousers, ironed within an inch of their life - and scurried downstairs to arrange your usual to-go breakfast. Coffee in a reusable cup and a cereal bar. Hair and makeup could be fixed at work. You were always thirty minutes early anyway.

~

Harry wasn’t sure how you managed it. How every day you managed to evade him to avoid a puffy-eyed “good morning” or a potentially awkward conversation over breakfast.

As he stood in the hallway between your bedrooms towelling his hair dry in nothing but a pair of boxers and a damp t-shirt, he stared into your bedroom and marvelled yet again at how you seemed to have managed to keep it tidied to a borderline compulsive degree.

A large king bed sat against the left wall with ironed white linens and a plush sunflower yellow throw draped across the foot. One lone bedside table tucked against the right side with a tasselled muted green 60s velvet lamp and a book resting atop. A picture hung above the headboard - some vibrant canvas of abstract art. Every morning he wondered if you’d painted it yourself. Against the opposite wall stood a tall regal-looking cherrywood wardrobe next to a matching dresser with a sleek TV on top. It was the most modern thing about the room. In the window overlooking the garden a dream catcher hung in the dead centre. It was the only nicknack you seemed to have, and part of him hated that it seemed like something negative. Something to catch nightmares, to ward off evil.

Did you have bad dreams? And if so, why?

As always, the window had been opened two inches to let in fresh air. You never closed your door, not even at night. You never had clothes left out. Clutter didn’t exist in your vocabulary. Dust wasn’t permitted in your room. Or the bathroom, or kitchen, or living room, he’d deduced. You took Wednesdays off in the week and cleaned when no one else was home to bother you. He doubted the others had picked up on these things about you, but he’d noticed.

Harry had noticed a lot about you.

Especially that in the mornings, you waited until he took his bathroom time to get ready for work and leave without having to run into him. Some chaotic part of him wanted to change his routine so you’d have to. He wanted to know what you looked like straight out of bed with puffy eyes and linen marks on your cheeks and hair in disarray. The other part of him, the gentleman, told him not to. Who knew what might happen if he threw your routine off kilter.

Distress, probably?

No. He wouldn’t be having that.

Shaking his head, he wandered into his own room and shut the door behind him. One day the puzzle of you would finally form a complete picture. Today, he settled for the tethered, jumbled segments he’d managed to collect this far.

~

You stared at your phone, face a picture of bewilderment. Deciphering text messages from the housemates was starting to get increasingly difficult, no thanks to the fact that you were shit at it and everyone else seemed to excel.

Blackpool Tower

🌚 👰🏼❌🧽🍽️🔄

🌝 🙈🖕🏼

👰🏼 😕

Translation: Abbie George didn’t wash his dishes again.

Rhys Oh for fuck’s sake.

George Whoops.

You were on a roll with the emojis. It had started as a joke because George had said he hated people who only used emojis to text each other rather than actual words, so for a week the four of you had sent every text using only emojis. Then it had turned into a bet: how long could all of you go without using words, and who would be the first one to crack. You all knew that, without a doubt, Rhys would crack first, even though he was the one who’d proposed the bet in the first place. It had been two weeks and no one had cracked yet.

🍉 🤔👰🏼🥄🥄🍱🔄

👰🏼 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😠

🌝 😒🙄

🌚 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

👑 ❌❌❌❌❌❌❌

Translation:

Harry Maybe George should cook dinner again…

George HAHAHAHAHAHAHA no.

Rhys Yeah right.

Abbie No thank you.

You Absolutely fucking not.

Why did all of you have such ridiculous headers?

Abbie and Rhys were the twin moons because that was the look they always gave each other when they thought something was cute, funny, interesting, or otherwise. They’d moved into the house as a couple and had remained in said couple for 3 years. Sharing a room was their way of saving money to buy a house. It made sense.

George was a blonde bride because he was the most outwardly gay man any of you had ever known and often acted like an utter madam. Madam was actually George’s nickname to his friends now thanks to the house’s light ribbing. He had also chosen his own emoji.

Harry was the watermelon because we were never without it thanks to a frankly concerning obsession. If there wasn’t a watermelon in the fridge, or slices, or packaged chunks, something was very wrong.

And you were the crown because you’d refused to pick an emoji and the house had affectionately bestowed the title of Tower Queen to you. You’d pretended to hate it, but they all knew you viewed it as the highest compliment.

Oh, and the group chat was called Blackpool Tower because you lived together in a tall, two-rooms-to-a-floor townhouse at the top of town. The Eiffel Tower had been suggested but George immediately pointed out that we were not a classy enough bunch to live in such a fine establishment. I’d told him to speak for himself.

The talk of food made you hungry, and it hit you like a landslide that you hadn’t had any dinner. You rolled off your bed and sent a text to Blackpool Tower, then shoved your phone away.

~

Multiple things happened at once. The shower turned on in the bathroom; your bedroom door opened with a quiet creak (which would not happen again since you went through WD40 like a bee in pollen); Harry’s phone vibrated with another text.

Blackpool Tower

👑 👩‍🍳🍝 … 🌚🍝🌝🍝🍉🍝➡️🧊 … ❌🍝👰🏼

Harry snickered.

Translation: You Making dinner. Leftovers in the fridge. None for George.

It wasn’t unusual you’d make enough food for everyone. Harry had learned that you’d picked that trait up from your dad. Sometimes no one would stop you, especially since there was never anything wrong with a meal you’d cooked. In fact, if there were a restaurant with food cooked by you, Harry would dine there every night. But he also knew that letting you cook for all the other housemates all the time wasn’t fair.

🌚 🍉➡️🍉❌🍉➡️🍉❌👑

👰🏼 🚫🚫🚫🚫

“For fuck’s sake.” He muttered.

Rhys must have been in the shower. If George or Abbie were home they’d have rugby tackled you to the floor given the chance.

Harry abandoned his phone and lurched out of his room, down the stairs to the kitchen. He nearly stacked it twice but he made it, with panting breaths to accompany him.

You turned your gaze on him with a startled look, giving him a once over. “What are you doing…?”

“Don’t you dare cook for everyone else.”

You blinked twice and then rolled your eyes. “It’s fine - I’ve got plenty.”

“It’s not fair.”

“If I don’t cook it today it’ll go off. So might as well.”

Harry looked at the produce you’d piled on the counter and back at you, then back again. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You bought enough for everyone.” He straightened and folded his arms across his chest.

You spluttered and scoffed for far too long. “No.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t stop me.” You scowled at him.

It was the most emotions he’d ever seen on you. If he’d known all this time that all he needed to do to get a conversation out of you was wind you up a bit, he’d have done it much sooner.

“Yes I can.”

You put a hand on your hip. Christ. “How?”

He stared at you, statuesque and cursing himself for challenging a bet he couldn’t win. You were right. How would he stop you? He wasn’t going to drag you away from the kitchen and up the stairs without your permission. Hell, he didn’t want to do anything without your permission, threats begotten. He hadn’t thought this through.

You let out a breath, a mocking one, and turned away from him and picked up a knife to start chopping. “Didn’t think so.”

“You can’t do this forever.”

Chop.

“Do what?” You challenged, refusing to look at him again.

Chop chop.

“Look after every person that comes in here because you feel like you owe people something. The world will take advantage of you. Is that what you want?”

Your shoulders visibly tensed over the words that tumbled out of his mouth. They weren’t even spoken with malice. They were soft and cautious.

CHOP.

“This feels like a very deep conversation to be having on a Tuesday evening.”

He growled, frustrated. “Stop babying everyone.”

Chopchopchop.

“If they didn’t want me to baby them they simply wouldn’t let me. And maybe I like babying people. Sometimes it’s nice to have a responsibility.”

“That’s just it, though. They’re not your responsibility.”

You smacked the knife down on the chopping board and turned to face him, an unfamiliar anger in your eyes that muddled with something else murky and grey. Hurt. “Will you just let me cook my fucking dinner in peace?”

Harry stood, tense, staring at you with his fists clenching and unclenching. Finally, he said, “Fine. But you’ve got to let me help you.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Harry.” Your head lolled back.

“Two different people, but I appreciate why you might get confused.”

You stared at him for an indecipherable length of time. Or gawked might have been a better descriptor. And then you snatched the tea towel off the side and smacked it in a whip-like movement against his arm. “Git.”

~

Two weeks later and you and Harry had begun a sort of ritual; you would cook with each other every other night. The distinct difference was that when you bought food, you bought enough for everyone. When Harry did it he only bought enough for the two of you.

You hadn’t quite figured out yet if being in this new… friendship with Harry was better or worse. Cooking together four nights a week versus blissful ignorance towards him and his attractiveness? The now near-constant proximity to him was making your head spin for stupid reasons. Namely said attractiveness.

His biceps for one. No one should be allowed arms that had the ability to make one’s mouth water. Pair his strong muscles with the litter of tattoos that were drawn down his right arm and you’d found yourself sweating even on the coldest day. A man’s body should not have such a strong effect on a person, yet here you were - a swoon personified.

Then there was his face, which was worse. Eyes mouth jaw. Those three things individually on a man were the first thing that always drew you in, but Harry had a triple threat. Seaglass green, blush pink and the perfect 100 degree angle. Not too square. And to top it all off, a wispy mop of chestnut waves atop his big head.

The perfect man?

“Aye,” Harry took the knife off you before you started chopping an onion, “thought we established that needed sharpening. A blunt knife is more dangerous than a sharp one.”

A man who cared about your wellbeing?

His bedside manner could use some work.

“Fuck off.” You whispered to your inner voice.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, cheeks burning. Great, he probably thought you were crazy.

You silently passed Harry the stone out of the drawer. He could sharpen it if he was going to make such a big deal out of it.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, and started swiping the edge of the knife along the full length of the stone.

Chalky noises. Sharp noises. Furrowed brow. Biceps flexing. Obscenely attractive. Abort abort abort.

You busied yourself by turning on the hob and drizzling oil into a pan. Basically looking anywhere but at Harry and his arms. Sexy arms.

Sex on legs.

Your legs were wobbling. A flame of burdened heat licked its way between your thighs and you had to lean against the counter to stop from buckling. It had been a long time since a man had touched you.

Yeah. This was worse. Definitely worse. Hyper-awareness of everything going on around you wasn’t unusual, but being hyper-aware of everything Harry did was like some unfound form of torture. There was being attracted to someone and then there was whatever this situation was.

Ridiculous?

It was ridiculous, but at least you could suffer knowing that your inner voice had been wrong. Harry was not a normal bloke. He was some kind of enigma.

~

For the past couple of nights Harry had kept his door open. He’d learned that you did indeed have nightmares regularly so the dreamcatcher you kept in your bedroom window was doing little for your unconscious mind. He’d debated buying a bigger one for you but wasn’t entirely sure how appropriate that would be.

You weren’t loud. In fact, if he hadn’t kept his door open he never would’ve known, because the ajar-ness of his door had come prompted for completely different reasons - that unusual urge to see you first thing in the morning. Now two nights in a row he had been woken up by your little yelp, followed with a hissed string of curses while shifting around your bedsheets to get comfortable again. As soon as he knew you were asleep, he wasn’t too far along after you.

He still hadn’t been able to decide if cooking with you nearly every night was a good thing or a bad thing. While he never failed to enjoy himself during your bi-nightly kitchen sessions, he hated separating from you afterwards. It wasn’t enough. The persistent nearness of you for an hour or so only to be followed by a later severance was almost painful. The bedroom door being left open was just another attempt at trying to get closer to you.

He knew it was you in the bathroom because you took longer than everyone else. Not because you were using up all the hot water but because you used it as an excuse to give it a thorough clean. Being able to hear everything going on in the house was both a gift and a curse, but Harry wasn’t attuned to all the tenants. Only you.

Five minutes later the bathroom door opened, and you plodded up the two flights of stairs. He knew the way all the stairs creaked, and you were going at nothing more than a leisurely pace. He caught a glimpse of you as you passed, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. The scent of strawberries and jasmine wafted through the gap in his door after you.

Harry’s phone vibrated.

Blackpool Tower

🌝 Friends coming over tomorrow night for drinks 🍻 we’ll behave

👰🏼 You idiot

🌚 RHYS

🌝 NOOOOOOOOOO

🍉 Pay up dipshit

🌝 😭😭😭

A few minutes later Harry got a notification to say he’d received a £10 payment into his bank account.

~

Then

The cold had crept in again. Not from the weather - it was warm at night. This was a different kind of cold. The sweaty kind that kept you up at night. Medication had kept the nightmares away for some time but now you were locked in the house for the foreseeable future you couldn’t bear the idea of being constantly dimmed down by it in front of your housemates.

Last night was the first time you’d had a nightmare in close to a year and it was just as terrifying as it used to be. Some traumas just wouldn’t leave you be. You’d taken a couple of painkillers to numb your headache and they’d graciously knocked you out for another few hours and brought you right on through to 8am. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept that late. With everyone at home all the time now, it seemed no one wanted to get out of bed.

You had a job to do today, anyway. The room next to yours had finally been rented, so you’d been tasked with giving it a proper clean before the new tenant arrived this evening.

You did need to eat, but before that you wanted to get the window open in there to coax some fresh air in.

Hauling yourself out of bed, you meticulously tidied your room the same you did with every morning, dressed in clothes appropriate for cleaning, and took the short step across the hall to the other room.

The door was closed which was unusual. You always left the doors to the empty rooms open with a wedge so they wouldn’t get stuffy from disuse. Maybe you’d opened the window yesterday and forgot? Had the wind closed it for you?

Shrugging to yourself, you opened it anyway.

“Oh,” your eyes widened, “fuck, shit, sorry.”

Inside, collapsed face down on the bed dressed with only a sheet was a man, near-naked in only a pair of boxers. You couldn’t see much of his features bar a mop of chocolate curls, a heavily tattooed arm, and a particularly nice arse beneath his pants.

He lifted his head, complete with a gorgeous profile, and peeled open an eye. A very green, beautiful eye. He made a confused, questioning noise.

The room was full of belongings, so this must be the new tenant and not some homeless person who’d managed to sneak in without anyone realising. At least you hoped.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were moving in later today. Sorry.”

“Friday.” He managed. A sleep-coated, groggy and somewhat delirious voice. It was delicious. You wanted to taste it.

“What?”

“Friday was moving day.”

“Yes. Today.”

“No. Yesterday.”

You looked at your phone. “Christ. I’m sorry. Isolation is getting to me. You don’t care. I’m sorry. I’m interrupting your sleep. I’ll go. Sorry.”

You pulled the door closed before you could embarrass yourself any further, and then hid yourself in the bathroom out of sheer embarrassment.

If you never saw that marvellous-looking man again it would be too soon.

~

Now

Harry often thought about that first day.

Morning. Just after dawn. Early summer sun casting you in gold. Tiny shorts. Faded creaseless t-shirt. Sleepy face messy hair.

He hadn’t seen you anything of the sort since and he craved it like an addict did cocaine.

A pandemic had ruined many things for many people, and the most recent ruin back then had been Harry’s longest relationship. That’s what had brought him to a double bedroom in a shared house rather than a flat and his own fucking space. He couldn’t afford the latter.

It had been hot that night, moving into a new home in the darkness. He’d picked up the key from the owner, your dad it had turned out, and transferred his possessions from one place to another in the late night simply to avoid having to discuss his situation with people he didn’t know.

But yes, the heat is what had caused him to strip down to his underwear before passing out. The startled look on your face at the sight of him had absolutely been worth it. The sight of you had been worth it. Such a strong attraction to someone fresh after a breakup should be wildly inappropriate, but there you suddenly were, bare-legged and dangling yourself in front of him like a piece of string to a kitten. Still, the fact remained that Harry liked to think himself a gentleman. He tried to be a gentleman, and after living so close to you for so long, it didn’t take long to learn that you liked to keep to yourself. So he had done the same.

Until now, apparently.

“That housemate of yours here?”

Harry’s ears pricked up at the question like a cat’s would if it heard something interesting. He recognised the voice and hated the speaker. He always had. Today was no exception.

“Which one? I’ve got three of ‘em if we don’t include Abbie.” Rhys’s oblivious laughter filtered up the stairs to the sanctuary of the top floor.

“Well I ain’t talkin’ about the lads, am I?”

Harry shivered. He imagined if you could hear them then you would too.

“She’s here”, “Don’t bother,” came simultaneously from Rhys and Abbie. Abbie sounded almost defensive, and that pleased Harry to no end.

“Why not?”

“Because she isn’t interested.”

“Maybe you should let her decide that for herself.”

Unconsciously, Harry rose from the desk in his room and made his way across the hall to yours. The door was open, obviously.

You were sitting up with a book but you had earplugs in. Whether it was playing music or just to block out the noise from downstairs he wasn’t sure. As soon as you spotted him a small smile curved on your lips, and you pulled an earplug out. It was playing music.

Harry had never met anyone who could listen to music and read at the same time. There were surely plenty, but this put you in the Elite Tier in his head.

“What’s up?”

Footsteps began on the stairs, and Harry threw a cautionary glance over his shoulder before he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, sliding the lock across.

You were leaning forward now, a crease in your brow. “What’s going on?”

“Rhys’s friends are here.”

You blinked. “I know.”

“Yes but his idiot friends are here.”

You tipped your head. “I’m not following.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know… Gaz? The one with the teeth.”

“Oh. Right. Why not? He’s harmless, no?”

“Is he? I’m not so sure.”

Your name suddenly trilled from the floor below. “You home?”

You looked at the door as Harry moved to the side, dumbfounded. Harry shook his head at you when you began to move.

Why not? You mouthed.

Harry pretended to drink from an invisible glass and grimaced.

The idiot called your name again and knocked on the door. “Come on, come say hi.”

Harry was really scowling now. You flashed glances between him and the door multiple times.

“She’s probably asleep, mate!” Rhys hissed from outside the door. “She works early some Saturdays.”

That was not true. You’d never worked weekends, not even as a teen. It was Rhys’s smart ruse to get him to back off.

The door handle jostled. Harry suddenly looked more threatening than a mafia boss, and your jaw fell slack from shock.

“Oi,” smack, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What? Worth a shot.”

“No it fuckin’ weren’t, go downstairs.”

Some heated muttering commenced, but neither you nor Harry moved or spoke until you were satisfied they wouldn’t hear anything.

“Did he seriously just try and get in here?”

“While you were ‘sleeping’?” Harry air-quoted around the word. “Yes. He did. Hence the distrust.”

“What the fuck…”

He watched you for a moment and the look on your face said it all. You were upset, in a confused sort of way. Your mind was somewhere else, no longer in this room. Eyes glassy and breathing shallow.

Someone had tried to come into your personal space while they had the impression you were sleeping. If that had been the case there was no telling what would’ve happened. If Harry hadn’t come in you probably wouldn’t be any the wiser to Rhys’s friend’s real character, and that was what scared him. You had a tendency to put too much faith in people as just people. If someone was being nice to you that must mean that they are nice.

“What are you reading?” He asked into the silence, not only to break the quiet but to pull you out of the trance you’d been in.

“Oh, er,” you looked down at the book in your lap and turned it upwards, flashing the cover to him, “some daft romance.”

You put it aside after slotting the bookmark inside to keep your place. He smirked to himself. God forbid you dogear a page.

“Happy ending?”

You nodded, playing with your loose earbud. “Yeah. Has to be.”

“They’re my favourite.”

You gawked at him then. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Is that so shocking?”

You laughed musically. “I don’t know… I kind of assumed a guaranteed happy ending would irritate you or something.”

“Not at all. Sad endings are rubbish.”

“Aren’t they?” You patted the bed by your lap, suddenly animated. “I hate them.”

“Me too.”

“What are they for? No one wins, everyone is miserable, and someone has almost always died in the middle.”

He folded his arms, brows furrowed in a mock defence. “Now who hurt you? Tell me. Who do I need to beat up?”

“John Green.”

Harry scoffed. “He’s the worst.”

“Paper Towns? What the fuck was that all about?”

“Load of shit.”

“Exactly!”

He grinned, relaxing his posture. A commotion began downstairs, and he turned over his shoulder towards the door. Two phones dinged inside the room.

Blackpool Tower

🌝 🍻🍻➡️🌃➕👰🏼

You were being left alone. Thank God.

Harry met your gaze with a passive smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

“Wait…”

He raised a single brow at you. “Yes?”

“Why don’t we watch a movie? If they’re pissing off out…”

He was both surprised and elated by your suggestion. All he’d be doing otherwise was looking for flats to move into alone and listening to some murder podcast before passing out. Friday nights were raucous in one’s late twenties.

“Two movies.” He bargained. “One we can bitch about first, and then one we like to make ourselves feel better.”

Your returning smile was prizewinning. Priceless. “And… takeaway? I really don’t want to cook.”

He clicked and pointed a finger at you. “You’ve got yourself a deal, madam.”

~

This was a new low for you. Or perhaps it was a high - you hadn’t decided yet. Using the newfound common ground over a love of happy endings off the back of the fear of a mad man trying to let himself into your room to coax Harry into a movie night with you. In your room, no less. The house was empty yet you chose to suffer the shitty WiFi signal in your tower room because your bed was more comfortable than the communal sofa in the living room on the ground floor. The cold ground floor.

Now, after a shared pizza that was delivered in record speed, you and Harry lay parallel to one another as you batted bitchy comments between one another about the infuriatingly devastating plot of Atonement.

“I wanna smash her face into a wall.”

You nearly choked on your wine, and wiped a pre-existing tear off your cheek. “Harry,”

“What?” He whined. “Every time I get to the end and she tells the real story I see red. Why get people’s hopes up like that?”

His eyes were red around the rims.

You sat forward as the credits began to roll and looked at him with a timid smile. “Opinionated, aren’t you?”

He was draped across the left side of your bed closest to the door, legs crossed at the ankle and hands tucked behind his head against the headboard. He was close to slouched, but he looked so impossibly at ease you wanted to just nestle right into him.

You could do it. Nothing is stopping you.

You repressed a growl.

“Coming from you?” He retorted, amused.

Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him. “What’s next?”

He pursed his lips and gave a thoughtful look towards the ceiling. “Notting Hill?”

You gasped. “Fuck yes. Do you fancy dessert?”

“Always. What have you got?”

“I picked up a chocolate trifle on the way home from work.”

“That sounds dirty as fuck.”

“It is dirty as fuck.” You agreed and stood from your bed. “I picked it up on the way home with the intention of eating it all by myself, but… I’m willing to share.”

“How kind.” Harry chuckled. You felt his gaze on you leaving the room.

Two minutes later you returned with an unwrapped trifle and two spoons. Harry had already found Notting Hill on one of the many subscription sites you paid for and had it paused right at the start. He sat up straighter as you settled back down, pressed play, and then the two of you sunk into cake and gooey chocolate layered beneath sweet cream.

“Is Hugh Grant too posh?” Harry asked between mouthfuls.

“Yes, but it suits him?” Your question pondered. “Like, I couldn’t imagine him with a Scouse or Georgie accent.”

Harry’s returning laughter was delighted, magical. “This would be a very different film if he did.”

You gave a gutterall, mischievous laugh. “I would like to see it.”

Once you’d spoiled yourselves with trifle you settled back down, two parallel figures unmoving in the dim room, except to drink wine.

Harry was an ominous presence beside you. Warmth radiated off him in languid rolls, beckoning to you like an evil sea siren. Your hands fisted on your stomach, muscles tense. It really was taking everything in you not to lean into him and inhale his scent. Let it lull you to sleep like a safety blanket.

Occasionally you peeked glances at him. If he’d noticed you he never said anything, and it made you brave. After so long the film became background noise and Harry was the real star. A black t-shirt across a flat, muscular chest, steady breaths causing a rise and fall. Black jogging bottoms that rose higher up his legs with each slight movement, showing more scrumptious leg hair per inch. Big, boney, veiny feet with heinously long toes. Hair taken off his face with a tiny claw grip, a little greasy around the ears.

The overwhelming need to shove your face into his armpit finally gave motive to look away. Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts meant nothing anymore. There was a sexy man sprawled across your bed who ate your trifle and wanted to watch stupid rom-coms with you.

You fell asleep before the end.

~

Harry was sure he was dreaming. It wasn’t possible, the situation he found himself in. It was what he wanted, what he had really wanted for a while now, but the actual possibility of it coming to fruition had been next to none. Zero. Impossible.

He’d woken up in your room. That was the first tell that he was still dreaming. Then he found a warm body curled around him, and him around them in return. Your warm body. Leg draped over his thigh, arm slung across his torso, head tucked under his chin, his arms around your shoulders and inhaling your strawberry shampoo.

You were both still on top of the covers, neither able to finish the movie without passing out. He’d even noticed you had nodded off first but he didn’t want to leave you without making sure you’d lock the door behind you again in case Rhys and his idiot friends returned.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. That was too accurate and not nearly lucid enough for an unconscious mind.

He didn’t want to move in case he stirred you, but he was desperate to see your face. Your beautiful, sleeping face. He refused to believe you’d cuddled up to him while conscious. Because it had been that way around - you were parked up on his side of the bed. His lips pricked upwards at the corners with that knowledge.

It was raining heavily outside. It fell against the window in loud smatters, the room cast in a dull grey tone. It made him want to squeeze you tighter, to keep you from any harm. He still refrained.

Eventually you woke. He could tell from the way your body tensed and your breath caught in your throat.

“Don’t freak out.” He mumbled, voice thick from lack of use.

You took in a deep, obvious breath. “No? Why not?”

“You don’t need to.��

“I think I do.”

“Explain, please.”

You hesitated, wetting your lips, and took in another deep breath. “I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“How?”

“I’ve put myself into your personal space without your permission.”

“You were unconscious.” He argued.

“Doesn’t make it any better. You should’ve run for the hills the second my foot touched your lovely hairy leg.”

Harry chuckled. He tightened his arm around you and brushed his nose through your messy hair. “Maybe I don’t mind you in my personal space. Maybe… I like it.”

“Do you?”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

He laughed again. “You’ve nothing to worry about.”

You sat up and faced him.

Gah. There you were. Puffy eyes, cracked lips, scruffy hair. His stomach did a backflip at the sight of you - a dream he had nightly. In equal measure, he missed having the warmth and weight of your body against him.

“Don’t think about it too much.” He gave you a gentle smile. “Nothing needs to be complicated.”

You remained silent, either awestruck or dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure.

He stood, reluctantly, and pinched your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re in shock.”

That sorted you out. Your face rearranged itself into a scowl, gaze following him as he left the room. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but such a conversation felt too poignant for 8 o’clock in the morning. You needed space to let your thoughts take over.

~

Cooking dinner and movie nights. That had become yours and Harry’s thing. After he’d dropped what you considered a bombshell that he didn’t mind you in his personal space you’d had the longest shower of your life - accidentally using all the hot water - and then spent the morning face down on your bed trying not to scream into your pillow.

Since then you’d been obsessively cleaning, more so than usual by way of distraction from the man living across the hall. The house was spotless. You’d even cleaned the windows at one point, outside, with help from your dad and looked at a way to fix the leaking problem in the empty bedroom.

It still didn’t stop your mind from constantly drifting back to the other morning. Waking up curled around Harry like that had been both terrifying and utterly perfect. For a man with such a hard physique he’d been incredibly comfortable. Too comfortable. Then he’d said a number of things that threw your somewhat orderly brain into complete disarray and chaos.

“You’re cute when you’re in shock.”

Harry hadn’t seemed to take his own words lightly, either. He’d been more comfortable in closer proximity with you since that morning, in the little things like light touches to your arms and back while you cooked together, or a kiss on the top of your head before you disappeared into your room for the night. Some nights you would share a bed after a movie because it was just easier - you were already settled, and you always woke up cuddled against him like a fucking creep.

“This,” Harry said as he pulled the oven door open, a waft of heat filling the cold room, “is gonna be fuckin’ banging.”

“Mhm.” You quipped, shoving a tortilla chip into some salsa, and then into your gob.

It was a Saturday night. By a freak stroke of luck, all the other housemates had gone away for the weekend - George to his parents’ and Rhys and Abbie on a weekend break to Amsterdam. So, a dinner and movie night had been a given, but you’d stuck a portable heater in the communal living room downstairs, found as many blankets as you could and piled them onto the sofa, then queued up enough movies to last all night.

Harry’s carefully crafted pizza sat atop the stove, cooked to perfection with your favourite ingredients on one half and his on the other. Your mouth watered.

You carried everything into the lounge, set it all up on the coffee table, and pressed play on your first movie of the night.

It was civil while you ate, and you were admittedly starving. To Harry’s credit the pizza was delicious and you wished it was bigger because you could’ve eaten another. You filled the hole in your stomach with tortillas and salsa instead. He graciously took all the dirty plates back into the kitchen when you were done, and returned with two bowls of strawberries, raspberries, and of course, watermelon. It was a very healthy dessert but the watermelon looked seriously out of place.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me eat your watermelon.” You joked. “Feels like a sacred honour.”

He snorted but remained silent.

Eventually, after all the food and a couple of glasses of wine, you were horizontal, your feet in Harry’s lap. He had his hands locked around your ankle after you accidentally kicked him in the thigh.

“If you were in a rom-com, who would you want to play your love interest?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Hugh Grant.”

You giggled, turning your face into the sofa cushion. “90s or current Hugh Grant?”

“90s. Current Hugh Grant is into much more sophisticated roles that I don’t care for. Even if they are generally great films.”

“I see…” you mused.

He squeezed your ankle, a smile flirting on his lips. “No, I don’t know. Who’s queen of romantic comedies? Reese Witherspoon? J-Lo?”

“Oh my God, I love J-Lo.” Your voice was a dreamy, breathy sound.

“A fine woman indeed.”

“I love it when you talk like it’s the 1800s.”

He laughed so loudly it was almost a bark. “Noted. Who would you want to play opposite?”

“Sam Claflin.”

“The king of rom-coms.”

“Exactly. Very easy on the eye.”

Harry was smirking again. His hands were moving now, smoothing up and down your leg in easy strokes.

Thank fuck you shaved, you little scruffy bear.

You mentally flicked your inner tormentor behind her ear.

The film played on and held your attention for some time. You were possibly the most relaxed you’d been for a very long time. Not one muscle in your body felt tight.

Harry’s lackadaisical caressing continued, which you were still half-conscious of. It was nice to be touched that way - you don’t think you ever had been. You didn’t panic until you realised he’d been venturing just a touch further up your leg with every stroke; until his fingers tickled your thigh.

You gasped, grabbing his wrist, wrenched yourself upright.

Heat flooded your centre, slick and warm. It was so instantaneous it took you by surprise, and your cheeks burned, the tips of your ears warm.

His eyes were on you, wider than usual. “Sorry,” he tried to speak but it only came out in a whisper.

What is wrong with you, woman? You wanted this.

The inner tormentor was right. You had wanted it, and for quite some time. But the advance of it had taken you so completely off-guard that your body had reacted before your brain did.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Harry muttered, a furrow between his brow. He was angry with himself.

Finally you managed to shake your head. You managed to manoeuvre yourself by taking one leg - the leg he still had his hand on because you were keeping it there - off his lap and tucked it under itself. You pressed his palm flat against your skin, smoothing over each of his long fingers in turn, and met his intense gaze.

You were much closer now, faces and bodies mere inches from each other. You could feel his breath against your face, and you knew he could feel yours too from the way his eyelids fluttered with each exhale. Shiny eyelids, you noted.

He slowly closed the space to brush his nose upwards against yours, and your next exhale was much shakier.

“What are we doing?” You asked.

“Whatever you want.”

You wanted many, many things. And 99% of them involved him.

You licked your lips, and his gaze dropped to them at the action. Your stomach squirmed and your inner voice squealed with nerves.

Harry placed his other hand firmly on your hip and tugged, and you spilled over his lap, straddling him with your hands using his shoulders for balance. Another gasp fell out of you at the feeling of a certain something between your legs. A certain hard something.

“Is this okay?” He asked, both hands tentative on your thighs.

“Mhm.” You managed.

His hands spread wider, and you grew wetter, breathing heavier

He swallowed thickly. “Can I kiss you?”

All you could do was nod.

You noticed the beginning of a smile before his mouth was on yours. That mouth you’d thought of many times, at all hours, on all days of the week. And it was finally on yours, and perfect too. Soft, big, spongy. It felt like heaven against your own.

He took his time, leisurely testing the waters with you. What you would allow and what you wouldn’t. What you liked and what you didn’t.

You liked all of it.

His tongue was reverent as it eased your lips open, but thorough once you’d granted him access to you. He tasted like strawberry and watermelon, a delicious combination. A lethal combination.

His hands still smoothed over your thighs, reaching for your arse but never quite making it there. He didn’t want a repeat of the previous reaction from you.

You held onto him tightly, hands squeezing over his shoulders in an accidental but welcomed massage. You wanted to touch him everywhere but weren’t sure if he was okay with it.

“I never thought I’d be able to do this with you.” Harry’s voice was gruff, strained. He spoke against your lips.

“Neither did I.” You said breathily.

“Thought about it a lot.”

“Me too.”

He groaned into your mouth, hands rising to your hips and waist, tugging on your loose t-shirt.

You continued kissing, mouths bruising with lust, skirting around the removal of clothes. His arousal only got harder between your legs and it made you wriggle. Your wriggling caused friction, and the friction caused whimpers.

“I won’t last if you make noises like that.”

This information gave you immense satisfaction. He practically ate the smile off your face, and you wriggled again over the top of him. More whimpers, more movement. Back and forth, back and forth until you were utterly soaked inside your pyjama shorts.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed.

“Harry,” you moaned, fisting his t-shirt at the chest.

“Keep going.” He practically begged.

You gave a frustrated noise and did as he said, rolling your hips over the length of his clothed shaft. Over and over and over again. Tits began to bounce. Back began to sweat. Toes began to curl.

Harry stripped you of your top and buried his face in your chest. Kissing, licking, sucking, bruising. A canvas of vivid colour. He dragged his lips across any inch he could, leaning forward, arching you backwards, just to access more. More more more.

Rolling, dragging, rolling and dragging your dampness against his erection. It was your sole focus. You needed it - the release you hadn’t felt for some time. You were always too nervous to masturbate with only two walls and doors separating you and Harry. You needed this more than anything else.

He held onto your back with one strong arm, hand gripping your waist while his other cupped your breast, and he took your nipple into his mouth without any further hesitation. Lick, suck, lick.

You squealed at the sensation, grabbed his face and brought his mouth back to yours. Faster faster faster you moved your hips and devoured his mouth until-

“Harry!”

Heat burst through your body, crashing through every cell, corner and crevice. You were tense as you came, clinging to Harry as tightly as possible. Then, as breath left you, you fell limp against him.

Harry stroked your hair and kissed your temple. His nose drew circles on your cheek.

When you pulled back, thoughts catching up to you, you looked confused.

“What?” He asked, head tipped to one side.

“This doesn’t make sense to me.”

“What doesn’t?”

“This,” you pointed between him and you.

“Why doesn’t it?”

“Because,” you gestured at him and then dropped your hands to your lap, “have you seen you?”

“Many times.”

You gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m serious, Harry. People that look like you aren’t interested in people who look like me.”

“What a horrifically outdated cliche.” He said in a flinchingly bored tone. “For the record, I think you’re bloody gorgeous. Have done since the day I met you.”

“Why?”

“Because I do! Life is too fucking short to let society dictate who is attractive enough to date who.”

You made a face, one where your eyebrows and your mouth stretched. “Yes, but-,”

“-No buts. I fancy the pants off you and that’s all you need to know.”

“Are you sure?”

He laughed. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t have let you do what you just did if I wasn’t sure. Would I?”

“I don’t know… some men are pigs.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Look,” he took your face in his hands, “some men are indeed pigs. But I like you. A lot. And I’ve had fantasies a hell of a lot like what we just did together for a damn embarrassing amount of time. About you. That’s all you need to know. Ever since I met you, I’ve been all about you.”

You pulled your lips between your teeth and stared at his chest, unseeing. Giddiness filled your tummy and white noise flooded your ears.

Harry picked up your hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. He watched you closely as he peppered kisses to your skin. “You’re thinking too hard, but I get it.”

“I think too hard about everything.” You mumbled. “Especially when it comes to you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know but I’ve always thought about you more than I’d like to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re very distracting.”

“Sounds like a compliment to me.” He said, and pecked your nose. “Shall we finish our movies and go to bed?”

Involuntarily, and as if prompted by the suggestion, you yawned. “Probably a good idea.”

Harry smiled, wrapped his arms around your middle and squeezed you tightly to his solid frame. “Let’s do it.”

~

Harry worked late a lot over the next week or so. He hated it mostly because it meant less time with you. Less conscious time, anyway. For the first few nights he’d come home to find you asleep and couldn’t bear the idea of accidentally waking you up, but after sharing a bed with you for so many nights now, it had been a hard drug to quit.

It was late now, well past midnight and you’d probably fallen asleep hours ago. But seeing you curled up and facing the window, sheets bunched up to your chin and face buried in your pillow, he couldn’t help himself.

He quietly stripped out of his clothes, save for his boxers, shut the door behind him and slid into bed beside you. He surrounded you with his warmth - arms around your middle and his face pressed between your shoulder blades. He tugged you backwards until your bodies were flush together, chest to back, and sponged a wet kiss into your shoulder.

You did rouse a little, giving out a soft, sleep-filled squeak. “Hi.”

He smiled, leaving another kiss closer to your neck. “Hi.”

“Wondered when you’d be back.” You said around a content sigh.

“And me.”

You giggled. You took a hand that clasped around your chest and brought it up to your lips. “Tried to stay awake for you but failed.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to.”

He littered more kisses against your skin, because he could just never get enough of you. “Thank you.”

“Pleasure.”

“Now go back to sleep.”

“Yes sir.”

~

“You look different.”

You frowned, meeting your sister’s scrutinous eyes between washing a saucepan clean. You were washing, she was drying, like you always did. You didn’t trust her enough to actually clean the dirty tableware. Sometimes she didn’t properly dry things either, but you’d make the most of what you could.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “You’ve got a kind of… air about you.”

“Right…”

“Hey,” your dad appeared, nudging your sister’s arm, “maybe she’s got a boyfriend.”

Embarrassed heat filled your body.

“No, that’s not it.” Your sister shook her head. “Anyway, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“I don’t…” you didn’t know how to finish that.

Perhaps your many nights sharing a bed with Harry had been what she was talking about, but the label of boyfriend/girlfriend definitely hadn’t come up yet. You just liked each other. A lot. Add that to the fact that any night you shared a bed with him you didn’t wake up in cold sweats or choked screaming fits, it wasn’t exactly something you planned to stop doing any time soon.

“Oh my God, don’t overthink it like you do everything else. It’s a compliment. Take it.” She rolled her eyes.

“Aye, don’t be snotty.” Dad swatted your sister’s arm.

“I’m not!”

Your sister was younger than you, and for all eternity most definitely cooler. She was in school and that hadn’t changed into adulthood. It didn’t particularly bother you. Generally you got on very well, she just didn’t have a problem opening her mouth when she had an opinion.

“Anyway, don’t forget family dinner night. Next Friday?” Dad reminded you.

Ah yes. Family dinner night was not here at Dad’s house with just you and your sister. It was at the house with Dad, your sister, and all the housemates. George proclaimed it his favourite time of the month, because Dad, an ex-chef, always cooked. Harry, because of his often awkward shift work, was almost always absent.

“Okay.” You nodded.

After finishing your last dirty dish, you pulled your phone out.

Blackpool Tower

👑 ❌😃

Sometimes a text simply couldn’t be written exclusively in emojis, so you’d come up with a rule whereby if you needed to write one, you’d send a ❌😃 to alert them.

👑 Family dinner night next Friday. Be there or be square 💘

👰🏼 🤯🤩🤯🤩🤯

🌚 🎉🎉🎉

“You’re still doing the emoji thing?” Your sister asked with a narrowed gaze.

“We have another bet running to see who’ll crack first.”

“Right… will everyone come?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That’s me asking if Harry will be there, by the way.” She said with a smirk, nudging your arm.

If you didn’t know any better you’d be hot under the collar thinking she was onto you. The mention of his name got you flustered anyway, but you did know better. As any sensible woman would, your sister had a little thing for Harry that she’d never shied away from.

“I don’t know.” You repeated, somewhat irritated.

“Well, find out! Do I need to make an effort or not, you know?”

“I mean… he doesn’t usually come. So probably not.”

“Double check. To be safe. Or give me his number.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Bore.” She scoffed, and swished away.

~

Sundays were laundry day. Harry knew this, which is why he’d never do his on the same day. Everyone in the house knew that first thing on a Sunday morning you would head down to the basement with a book and a basket full and sit there until everything had been through the tumble dryer (unless it was delicate in which case you’d air it in your window for the day).

Today, though, Harry travelled from the top of the house to the very bottom and slipped inside the utility room, closing the door behind him before any of the other housemates could hear him.

“What are you doing?” You asked, voice light with laughter.

Harry’s gaze rested on you, full of some kind of infatuation. You were sitting atop the industrial-size tumble dryer in the far corner of the room, back against the wall and knees up, book held against your thighs.

He shrugged. “Wanted to come irritate you a bit.”

“You never irritate me.”

He grinned and put himself in your personal space. He found your bookmark and placed it between the pages, and then took it away, abandoning it. “Are you sure?”

You let him manoeuvre you; pulled you forward a little and spread your knees apart. Your legs fell over the side, resting either side of his hips, and your breathing quickened. He placed one hand on your thigh and the other stroked over your cheek.

“Feel free to interrupt laundry day any time you want.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You laughed at his mock genuine tone and brushed your fingertips against his lips. “You know, my sister has a massive thing for you.”

He stood quietly for a fraction of time, gaze assessing. “I would tease you about it but I just can’t. I kind of already guessed.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm. She’s not exactly subtle.”

“No, she’s not. She asked me for your number.”

“Did you give it to her?”

“What do you think?” You rolled your eyes.

He smirked. “You getting possessive of me?”

“Maybe. But she’s too self-absorbed to realise. She thinks I’m doing it because giving out your number willy nilly is morally wrong. Which it is. But yeah, I also just don’t want her to have it.”

His lips tightened, nose flared, eyes light - batting away a smile. “I think I like this side of you.”

You gave an uncharacteristic grunt, but your eyes never left him. “You look like a frog when you make that face.”

His face neutralised and he sucked in a breath. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

This visibly delighted you. “Maybe I’ll start calling you Froggy.”

“Too far.” He pinched your waist

You giggled, hands pressed against his chest. Your palms felt warm over his t-shirt and he never wanted you to take them away.

“How long left on your cycle?”

“Er…” your gaze dipped downwards to the screen on the washing machine. “Like, 20 minutes probably.”

“And then it’s going in the tumble dryer?”

“Yes… why?”

“Because,” he pecked your lips once, “I think I know,” he kissed your left cheek, “something we can do,” then your right cheek, “while we wait.”

Your gaze was curious and intense as he started sponging his lips down your front, from neck to chest to stomach. You reclined some, breathing heavy, and he pulled your legs up by the ankle and planted your feet back on top of the dryer.

“Oh,” you spoke, voice caught.

“You okay with this?” He asked hesitantly.

Even though you’d been sleeping side by side something close to 5 nights a week, your little dry humping session last weekend was as far as you’d gone in the sexual intimacy department.

You made a strangled noise. “Christ, yes.”

Grin fully spread across his face, he smoothed his palms up your thighs to your hips and tucked his fingers into the silky waistband of your pyjama bottoms.

“Can we take these off?”

You hummed an affirmed noise, and lifted your arse off the surface. In one smooth pull he had the garment off your legs and over his shoulder, probably in the same vicinity of the book he’d taken off you.

He met your gaze with a lifted brow. “Not a fan of knickers?”

“Not in my jim-jams, no.”

His smile blossomed like daffodils in spring. “That’s either the cutest or sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Can we go with sexy considering what I hope you’re about to do?”

“Sure thing, cutie.”

You squealed a little at the name, but he couldn’t tell if you loved it or hated it. Regardless, he kept a firm grip on your legs and lowered his lips to your knee. In a slow, measured movement, he kissed his way up the inside of your legs with his hot, wet mouth.

Your breath was laboured as you watched him, eyes wide when he met your gaze again but so incredibly keen. To prove it, you pushed a hand through his curls and massaged his scalp, coaxing him forward.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so fucking long.” He admitted, mouth dragging over the softest part of your thigh.

His hot breath fanned against your waiting lips and you visibly clenched.

“I’ve wanted you to, believe me.” Your voice was but a rasp.

“Yeah?” He sighed happily, left hand moving closer to your centre. He extended his thumb out, “Are you wet for me?” He pulled your lips apart, and the noise he made at the sight of you was practically carnal.

“Harry,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair.

He hummed again, face inching closer to your dripping lips. He licked between you, wetness collecting on his tongue. The taste of you was something better than he could’ve ever imagined and he growled because of it. He gripped your legs tighter, hesitant no more, and buried his face right between your soft thighs.

“Oh, God,” you whined. Your head lolled backwards and both fists found purchase in his beautiful hair, twisting and tugging.

He grunted in response to you, spurred on. He collected as much of your juice as he could, firm stroke after firm stroke of his perfectly capable tongue.

He played with your clit in a way that made you squirm and squeal, eliciting the most delectable little noises out of your hoarse throat. Harry didn’t hold back - he never had in that department. He went for it completely and utterly.

The washing machine launched into rapid spinning, filling the room with wheezing, screaming noises.

“Harry, don’t stop.” You begged, body rigid with desperate tension.

He obeyed your every word. He spread your legs further and further with his digging grip. He burrowed his face into your cunt, tongue plunging inside of you and spading inside your heat like a desperate gardener.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you panted as you lifted your head again to watch him.

His eyes were already on you, dark and hooded and filled with keen lust. His head moved with an eager precision like his mouth did. He wanted you this way. He’d wanted it for so long he couldn’t quite believe he was getting it. You were a goddess, ethereal and perfect.

The washing machine’s cycle reached its peak, vibrating harshly beside the two of you. It was deafening yet the least bit distracting.

Harry pursued his advances on your cunt relentlessly and without breath until your body went rigid and then shuddered. You screamed his name, withholding nothing, any cries drowned out by the washing machine. Your body visibly vibrated like the machine beside you, and eventually your limbs weakened to jelly.

Harry stood straight and helped you sit up again, wrapping his arms around your middle. He tucked your head into his neck and twisted his face into your hair.

“You’re right, that was incredibly sexy.” He mumbled.

He revelled in your returning laughter, the sound light and airy. You showed no shame in clinging onto him, fingers raking through the curls at the back of his neck.

“Maybe you can do it again later.” You suggested, lips sponging against the skin on his neck.

“Any time you like.”

After another minute or so you pulled away, eyes scouring his face. “You’re a mess, sir.” You commented as you wiped your thumb around his shiny mouth.

He made a wordless noise, held your wrist, and took your thumb in his mouth. “I’ll be a mess for you.”

“Perhaps I’ll be a mess for you, too.”

His brows shot up and it made you laugh. “It’s cruel to joke about that.”

“I’m not joking.”

He gave you a challenging look.

“Want me to prove it?” You offered.

Was it even worth the question? “Always.”

You grinned. “Let me put my washing in the dryer and I will.”

He took a step back and bent at the waist, arms extending like he was bowing. “M’lady.”

You hopped down from where you’d been sitting and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Sir.”

~

The kitchen was a hive. And a mess. There was shit everywhere and your anxiety was through the roof just looking at it. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight because any kitchen your dad found himself in nowadays ended up looking like a pig sty but it didn’t settle the tightness in your chest.

He moved around the room with chaotic precision while you trailed after him tidying up any unnecessary mess, and your sister sat at the dining table Rhys and George had brought up from the basement an hour ago, scrolling through her phone.

“What about him?” Your sister flashed her screen to the two of you, the next Tinder profile filling it.

Your dad leaned over and squinted. “His eyes are too far apart.”

“Ugh. Knew you were gonna say that.” She grumbled.

This was a game you played regularly. Your sister would showcase potential Tinder matches either for her or for you (which you always declined to comment on), and your dad would garner his unfiltered opinion. It was probably a big part of the reason you were both still (technically) single. No one was ever good enough. That, and you didn’t have a Tinder account. Or any dating app account, actually.

“Him?” She flashed the next profile to you both.

Cute. But…

Not Harry.

Your inner tormentor smirked.

“What’s his anthem?” Dad knew all the terminologies now for the dating app world. He liked to call Hinge ‘UnHinged’, because that’s what the suitors on there usually were.

“Um… Wonderwall.”

You gagged, and Dad scoffed. “Next.”

You carried on for a little while, joining in when you felt like it but mostly just trying to keep the kitchen at an acceptable level of clean.

Rhys, Abbie and George were upstairs getting themselves ready for dinner as if it was some kind of gala they were about to attend. They did it everytime; dinner with Dad felt like an occasion. Harry wasn’t home and you hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask if he was going to be. He left at such a weird time this morning you couldn’t figure out what shift he was on and how that would affect his ‘home time’.

“Lay the table please, poppet?” Your dad asked of your sister, because he knew it was the only task she’d willingly do.

She leapt to her feet in a dramatic flurry and made for the cutlery draw. “Have we got enough for matching sets?”

“Very unlikely.” You muttered. You hadn’t eaten dinner with matching cutlery since you moved in.

The front door opened, cold air blustering in and mixing with the heat of the kitchen. Harry stepped in, bundled up in a big coat and rucksack slung over one shoulder.

“Hope I’m not late.” He said in a gravelly voice, smile sheepish.

“Harry!” Dad greeted him with complete joy. “Wasn’t expecting you, what a nice surprise.”

Your sister looked flustered all of a sudden. She’d convinced herself he wasn’t coming. Part of you had, too.

“I’ll just change and be back down.”

“Sure, we’ve got a bit of time yet.” Dad waved him away.

You’d pretended to busy yourself, but you watched as he headed for the stairs and caught the subtle wink he gave you.

Ah shit.

“What am I going to do?” Your sister panicked. “I'm a disaster - I look hideous.”

“No you don’t.” You grumbled. She’d never looked hideous in her life.

“Can I borrow some makeup?”

It was easier to just give her what she wanted rather than fighting her on it. “Sure - what do you need?”

She listed off a bunch of makeup items, most of which sounded completely foreign so you were sure you didn’t have them. You’d just give her your entire makeup bag and let her do what she wanted.

You knocked on Harry’s door before you went back down, makeup bag in hand. He opened in just his jeans, a light straight-leg pair with gaping holes at the knees.

“Hey,” he smiled, and rested an arm against the doorframe.

“Hi… I thought you’d be working late?”

He shook his head. “I was supposed to be. Swapped my shift ‘cause I always miss family dinner.”

“I see… well, you’ve successfully panicked my sister.”

“That was my plan all along, actually.”

“Mhm, sure.” You bit away a smirk. You liked this playful side of him a lot. “If you need half an hour to mentally prepare… I’d take it.”

“Noted, thank you.”

You left him to change and made your way back downstairs. Your sister eagerly took your makeup from you and dashed to the bathroom on the first floor.

Neither she nor Harry, or anyone else for that matter, came down until it was time to sit down.

Your dad sat at the head of the table as he always did, spread laid out in front of you in the middle. You sat to your dad’s right on the corner, and your sister to the left. You knew she was going to try and save the seat on her other side for Harry, but George ended up taking it instead, which visibly irritated her. She did have a particular ‘gay man’s best friend’ vibe about her - they flocked to her like sheep. Abbie sat at the other head, Rhys on her left, and then Harry sandwiched between Rhys and you.

He squeezed your thigh under the table, and you tried to pretend like it didn’t have some obscene effect on your intimate places. You lightly kicked his shin and started piling food onto your plate.

Like some kind of mafia father, your dad went around the table and asked all of the housemates for an update on their lives. He liked to do this, and fortunately your housemates liked pleasing him. He was a good landlord, and that showed by the way they gravitated towards him. He probably wouldn’t do this sort of thing if you weren’t living there, but he had a responsibility to them as tenants as well as you, his eldest daughter.

When you were done eating you sat back in your chair and put your hands in your lap. Harry didn’t hesitate to take one in his own and link your fingers. You peeked up at him as subtly as possible, unable to fight the giddy warmth that spread through you. He didn’t meet your gaze for the sake of keeping everyone else out of your business, but he did squeeze your hand, which only made the airy, slightly delirious feeling inside of you that much stronger.

Your sister spent 20 minutes talking about herself without breath, and as self-absorbed as she was, she was harmless, really. Not to mention entertaining. You never laughed as much as you did when she had her mouth open.

“Harry, you should come to these more often.” She said to him, batting her eyelashes.

You were about to walk her and your dad to the car and send them on their way. Harry was trying his absolute hardest to escape.

He cleared his throat. “I probably should, yeah.”

“It was good having an extra nice body.”

You gave her a look, brow raised. She shrugged. “I think it’s home time, no?” You prompted, gripping her arms and nudging her away.

“Fine.” She huffed, and began walking towards the street. “Bye team!”

Most people had already disappeared to their rooms but you had to admire her spirit. Dad was already gone, eager to go to bed.

You were halfway to the car when your sister asked, “So are you gonna tell me or what?”

You met her gaze with another raised brow. “Tell you what, exactly?”

“Mate,” she swatted my arm, “I am not an idiot. I know when I’m not wanted, because it’s not often.” She could not get any more vain if she tried. “I always did wonder what I had to do to get Harry’s attention better, and today I finally figured it out. I need to be you.”

Ah. Not as ignorant as she appears, then.

You pressed your mouth closed, looking away. “Er,”

“Don’t ‘er’ me. I saw that wink he gave you when he got home, but I thought he was just trying to wind me up. And then he sat next to you, not by choice it seemed, but there was barely an inch of space between you and practically a metre between him and Rhys. Then he just didn’t stop looking at you, even though he pretended he wasn’t. Let me tell you, that boy has not learned the art of subtlety.”

She turned to you then, a searing gaze heavy. “Look, I don’t know if you’re aware of it, or if you’re already shaggin’ him and lying to me about it-,”

“-We’re not having sex.” Yet.

“Okay, fine. Whatever. Just do something about it, please. If I can’t have him you should. Don’t let a man that beautiful go to waste. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good.” She huffed, and then pulled you in for a tight hug. “Fed up of seeing you alone and underselling yourself. You’re hot shit! I know it, and Harry clearly knows it.” She suddenly takes your face in her grasp. “So do something about it.”

~

You appeared in the doorway of Harry’s room around 20 minutes later, fresh-faced and in your PJs. He was reading in bed, having stolen a book out of your cupboard.

“Is he secretly in love with her?” He asked without taking his eyes off the pages, his long finger brushing the spine.

You squinted at the title as you moved closer to him. “Yes. What made you pick that one?”

“Because it’s obviously your favourite.”

“How’d you work that one out?”

“The spine is cracked beyond belief. It’s nearly falling apart.”

“I might’ve bought it from a charity shop.”

He lifted a brow. “Did you?”

“No.”

He put the book aside, focussing all of his attention on you. You’d sat down cross-legged on top of the covers, and you wore a calm yet unreadable expression. There was a hint of something in your eyes. Infatuation, maybe?

“What’s going on?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Nothing. I’m just… happy.”

“Me too.”

You remained quiet for a moment, gazing at one another in a comfortable silence. Eventually, Harry opened his arms in request of your embrace, and you gave it to him without hesitation. You settled against him, head tucked under his chin.

“I like this, Harry. Us.”

“So do I.” He nodded, pressing his lips into your hair. “A lot.”

“You make it easier.”

“Make what easier?” He asked, and then held his breath.

A beat passed. “Life. Sleeping. Consciousness. Cooking. Just… being.”

“That’s a very big compliment.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

When you peered up at him, he lowered his mouth to yours for a slow and tender kiss. It wasn’t abrasive or demanding; it was perfect. Full of an understanding that neither of you expected to find in another person.

“Tell me about your nightmares.”

“I don’t have them when I’m with you.” You admitted, as if he hadn’t already worked it out. When he didn’t respond to you, you reluctantly continued. “They’re about my mum. She died in a car accident a few years ago and I dream about it sometimes.”

Harry’s heart found its way into his mouth. “You were there?”

“No. My sister was. I was with dad - it was a weekend. Me and dad at his work cooking, mum and my sister shopping in town. Were on their way back and someone just ploughed into the side of the car, driver’s side. She died on impact and my sister was in hospital for a week.”

Harry held onto you tighter, his lips against your temple. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s okay…” you swallowed, body tensed in stillness. “I dream about that day a lot. Mostly the part where Dad broke the news to me. Seeing my sister in the hospital plugged in and drugged up. The funeral; the look on Dad’s face. I wake up crying more than screaming, usually.”

He took a deep breath, and he clung to you like you might disappear. “I’m really sorry. Sorry that happened to you and your family, and that you have to relive it most nights. That’s not fair.”

You met his gaze, cupping his cheek. “Ever since we started doing… this, I haven’t had a single one. Not even on the nights we don’t share a bed. I don’t know why, I guess my conscience has decided it’s safe with you. And I do feel safe with you.”

“Then I will stay with you every night to make sure you never have a bad dream again.” He vowed, turning his head enough to kiss your palm. “I like knowing that you feel safe with me. S’a pretty big compliment.”

“I’m full of those when it comes to you.”

His chest swelled, a helpless smile on his face. “Even when you tell me I look like a frog.”

You snorted and hid your face in his chest. “You do, though.”

“Okay, thank you.” He huffed, feigning offence, but he didn’t let you go; didn’t loosen his hold on you.

You talked late into the night until you fell asleep, wrapped around one another and bundled under his bedclothes. Having you so close and being so open gave Harry a sense of clarity. He’d had an attraction to you since the day he met you, but this was turning into something more. Feelings were now coming up to bat, and he had a pretty solid idea of where they were heading.

~

“You are filthy.”

You wiped your brow, meeting Abbie’s gaze with indifference. “I am not letting this garden turn into a jungle again like it did last year.”

“I know, but I’ve never seen you so dirty. You’re the cleanest person I know.”

“Believe me, I’ll be jumping straight in the shower once I’m done.”

It was the warmest day of spring so far, and for once it wasn’t raining, so you’d taken the opportunity the second you had it to get outside and sort the garden out. The winter had turned it into a tangled overgrown mass of green mess, and you’d been desperate to get it sorted.

Abbie had offered to help but had realised very quickly that she was out of her depth, and eventually offered moral support in lieu of the physical kind. You didn’t mind the company - it beat waiting inside for Harry to come home, alone all day.

You chopped away at the forest that had grown, turned the soil over when you found it, and potted some new plants to give it some life. By the time Harry came home your legs were covered in dirt, cuts and fresh bruises, nail beds black, hair full of dead foliage, and just downright sweaty.

Abbie had surrendered to the house to be entertained by Rhys, and George wasn’t home. He was never home much anymore, you were all under the impression he had a boyfriend.

Harry helped you to your feet where you were kneeling in the soil, eyes giving you a thorough once over. “You look…”

“Filthy. Yes, I know.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I like it.”

“Really?”

He followed you as you collected your gardening tools and hid them in the shed tucked against the side of the house. “Absolutely. You’re so clean and put together all the time, it’s kinda nice seeing you a bit roughed up.”

You hummed out a laugh. “Interesting.”

Harry boxed you up against the wall, out of sight of any of your nosey housemates. His hips trapped yours, hands holding your sides at the ribs. Without a hint of hesitation, he pressed his mouth to yours, eagerness overpowering tenderness.

You simply let him, never one to deny the most handsome man you knew a hot and heavy kiss. You enjoyed being wanted by him. Who the fuck wouldn’t?

“I’ll let you go shower.”

“Okay.” You murmured, delirious.

He pulled away, giving your hip one last squeeze before he vanished into the house. You spent five more minutes in the garden making sure you’d tidied up after yourself, and took some pictures to send to your dad.

Your shower was longer than you’d have liked thanks to the state of you, and in turn it took you longer to clean the bathroom down than usual. You were starving by the time you got back to the top floor.

Harry was at his desk when you slipped inside his room, browsing something on his laptop.

His room and yours were polar opposites of one another. Where you hid all your belongings, made your bed and kept things as minimal as possible, Harry had more shit than necessary. A bulging wardrobe, unmade bed, things everywhere. He was a man with stuff, and lots of it. Sometimes it made you itch. But he wasn’t dirty in any capacity. It smelled of fresh linen and clean air all the time.

“Do you feel better?” He asked, closing the lid on his laptop again.

“Mm. Loads better.” You gave him a warm smile as you perched on the edge of his bed.

He rolled over to you but abandoned the chair halfway to stand up. Then he crawled over you, forcing you to lie backwards and caged you against the bed.

“You smell amazing.” He said with a voice like gravel.

You ran a hand down his front and slipped it under his t-shirt, trailing your fingertips over his chest. “Thank you,”

He lowered onto his forearm, face an inch from yours and groin against your pelvis. You inhaled sharply, noticing the very obvious stiffness coming from Harry’s midsection. His hand smoothed the length of your side, down your thigh to your knee and then back up again to your arse.

He met your mouth with a kiss, deep and hungry. Dizzying. He led and he was all over you, tongue devouring yours.

“It was a lot harder than it should’ve been to not follow you into the shower.” He admitted.

You let out a soft whine and fisted his t-shirt, pulling him flush against your chest. You wanted to feel the weight of him on you. “You should’ve.”

He returned that with a growl, and his hand on your arse gripped tighter. Your name tumbled off his lips in a husky plea, “I want you so fuckin’ bad.”

Hooking your legs around his hips and pushing his centre against yours, you gave him the silent go-ahead. You looped your arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I’m right here, and you can have me.”

Something inside Harry snapped. Any reservations about your desire for him vanished. His kisses became punishing and carnal. His hands on you a little rougher than before, than ever. Possessive.

You helped him out of his top and in turn he helped you out of yours. You scooched backwards up the bed as he drank you in. It wasn’t lost on you that this was the first time he’d seen your top half naked. Somehow, amongst all the nights of bed-sharing, you’d never been fully naked.

His eyes were dark, hooded. He looked at you like you were his last meal, and honestly you lived for it. You wanted to die under that gaze.

“You’re so sexy.”

You bit away a timid, flustered smile. Bashfulness wasn’t sexy.

He stalked you like a wild cat as you lay back. His mouth and hands descended on you again, searching and exploring every inch of you, searing hot and wet kisses into your skin.

His hands slipped into your pyjama bottoms, feeling around your arse again before he tugged them down your legs, leaving you completely stark under his burning gaze. A strangled moan fell out of him while he regarded your naked form, hands smoothing and squeezing your hips, your waist, your boobs.

“You’re so fucking soft.” He said the words like praise.

You laid your hands on his as they travelled over you, and he pushed his mouth back to yours in that same eager dance as before. He ground himself against you, hard as a rock underneath his joggers, and it was doing all sorts to your core. Your heartbeat fell down and down again to your middle, slick heat flourishing between your legs.

“Please, Harry,” you begged him, pushing his hand down.

“What do you need?” He asked, a little cruelly, as if he didn’t know exactly what you needed.

“Touch me.”

The man gargled at you. He was fucking strangled. He traced between your thighs delicately to the point it tickled, and swiped a finger easily in a stripe up your folds, wetness collecting.

“Like that?”

“Yes.” You wriggled under him, desperate for more. “More.”

He played with your clit teasingly, enjoying the way you squirmed. “More?” He asked as he slid a finger into your waiting heat.

A small cry left you. It wasn’t enough and he knew it. “More.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?”

You whined. Now you were the one being carnal. You gripped his head tightly and kept your mouth to his, tongue abrasive and lashing.

While he wound you up in the most irritating way, you found your own ways to move him on. Your feet dug into the backs of his thighs and pushed downwards at an attempt to budge his joggers off. You didn’t want to wait anymore. You wanted him in all his solid glory, right now.

“Are you trying to take my bottoms off with your feet?”

“Yes.” You grunted.

“Oh,” he gave you a dark laugh as his kisses trailed back down your front, “that’s gonna cost you.”

He licked around your belly button, the warmth of his hands vanishing from your body to push his joggers down. He gave your cunt the shortest, most mind-blowing piece of attention with his mouth, dragging noises out of you that you weren’t even aware you could make. Then he turned you over without warning, on your front, and tugged your arse up to rest against his crotch.

You gasped, excited by the somewhat aggressive nature he’d taken on. Your Harry - soft and gentle as they got - man-handling you. You peered at him over your shoulder as he produced a square foil wrapper from somewhere and ripped it open with his teeth. He watched you watching him as he rolled it down his shaft, drawing your attention to it - visually, anyway - for the first time. You had to swallow the lump in your throat.

“This what you wanted, darlin’?” He asked as he smoothed his hand over your arse, but his gaze never left you. “You want me to fill you up with my cock?”

“God yes.” You said without a hint of a waver.

“You want it like this?” He lined himself up, fisting himself at the base, and glided the head of him through your wet, parted, waiting folds.

“Yes.” You whimpered. “Please. Please please please.”

He made that noise again, his large fist grabbing your hip as he hovered at your entrance, and then he thrust himself inside you.

A ripping, searing pain had you wanting to scream so loudly you had to shove your face into the mattress to muffle it. An ache blossomed in place of the initial pain, one that was all too familiar and yet quite unfamiliar. It had been absent, like a friend who lived too far away. Now it homed itself inside of you like it belonged there. Perhaps it did, and the only way to quell it was to entertain it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you feel good.” He hissed, his hands squeezing your hips and your bum in turn.

Harry pulled out, enough that only his head remained inside you, and then he gave another powerful thrust until he completely filled you. “So fucking good, my God.”

He started moving, in steady, sharp movements. He didn’t want slow. Hell, you didn’t want slow. You wanted fast and hot and sweaty, and that’s exactly what he gave you.

Harry started fucking into you so viciously you could feel it in every part of your body, from the jiggle of your tits to the shake of your arse to the rock of your hips. Oh, and the stretch of his cock as he buried deeper and deeper inside you. Every part of your body was aflame with need, a desire, a craving to be fucked into oblivion.

His hands were on your hips again, fingertips digging into your skin. He rocked you back and forth in time with his thrusts, not that you needed him to. You were doing that all on your own.

He grunted and hissed through every single powerful drive of his cock into your cunt, your name tumbling out of his mouth over and over again.

“Harry,” you whimpered, “harder.”

He growled and obeyed, pistoning inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes.” You cried, head burrowing again.

You felt him on you, all over you then, his chest against your back, lips kissing your shoulders and his arms with a vice grip around your middle. His skin was tacky, as was yours. You were surrounded by a cloud of packed heat, like a humid summer day.

“You are…” Harry began to say, panting in your ear, and his head shook against you, “fuck, I can’t even think straight.”

You moaned, lifting up and twisting your head in search of him. He caught your chin and brought your lips to his in another deep, claiming kiss. You wanted every kiss to be like that from then on - owning, possessing, asserting. You were his and you wanted him to know it.

He gave another round of punishing thrusts before he made a winded noise, “Turn over,” he pleaded, “I want to see your face.”

A whimper fell out of your mouth when his thickness disappeared from inside you, and he helped you onto your back before he got straight back in there. He was low over you, chest on your chest, hand on the back of your thigh, and his eyes roamed your face while it contorted with pleasure.

He hooked your leg over his hip and went harder. Harder, faster, harder, faster. Your head lolled back and a string of curse words fell out of your mouth. His lips danced across your chest and you tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him there. There was nothing better than being worshipped by a mouth. Especially Harry’s mouth.

He licked and sucked over your skin until your boobs and sternum were littered with little purple spots of lust, and honestly you didn’t care. You wanted them all over you. You wanted yours all over him.

His hips never stopped moving - pushing, pushing, pushing you towards a beautiful, glorious high like a high-speed train ploughing towards a dangerous cliff edge. God, you wanted that edge and you wanted it now. You wanted to be flung off it whilst securely attached to the man currently pushing you there.

You pulled Harry’s mouth back to yours, holding your body to him as you clenched, milking him towards his end and yours. You needed it. Your head was about to explode with rampant thoughts and you needed to wash them away.

“Fuck, Harry,” you whispered, neck and shoulders spiked with heat. It radiated off you.

“I know.” He groused and bit your lower lip. “I’m fucking close. So fucking close, and I’m gonna blow if you keep doing that.”

“Please do it,” you begged, clenching again to feel his growl in your mouth, “come, Harry.”

And boy did he fucking come.

His body wracked with a shudder, movements ceasing as you wrapped yourself tightly around him. His muscles rippled beneath your fingertips while he came, oblivious to your own masterful undoing.

You calmed together, lips moving in tender kisses until your breath was caught again and your limbs were sore. You deflated when Harry abandoned you to clean himself up, and you dipped into your bedroom to do the same when you found the strength.

When he came back you snuggled up to him in his bed, between his legs with your head on his chest. His lips grazed through your hair, breathing light and content.

“I am… fucking obsessed with you.” He mumbled.

You traced your fingers over the hair and the swallows on his chest, a warmth filling you, like an acceptance. Being wanted hadn’t mattered to you until now. Until Harry.

“I… am also quite infatuated with you. And I have been for some time. Just… quietly.”

“You been sniffin’ my bed sheets while I’m at work?”

You giggled and nuzzled closer to him. “No. Not recently, anyway.”

“Not recently?”

“I’ve never sniffed your bed sheets, Harry.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“I’m weird, but I’m not that weird.”

“But you’ve been infatuated with me for ages.”

“Not enough to go into your room and sniff your bed sheets.”

“Did you do anything a bit weird?”

“No.”

“Really? Not even… a little… you know?”

You gave him a bewildered look, and he waggled his eyebrows at you.

Haha. You totally did that, you creep.

“Maybe.” You murmured, hiding your face again.

He chuckled and held onto you tightly. “I did, too. Feeling’s always been mutual, darlin’.”

You heaved a content sigh. “I’m glad it was. I really do like this. Us.”

“Me too.”

~

Harry had been living life with a permanent spring in his step. He had you, living in the same house and sharing a bed, cooking at dinner time, shagging at night time, and just generally being wonderful, fantastic, gorgeous, brilliant you.

Tonight you were at your dad’s house with your sister so he was cooking alone, but George was in the living room watching one of those daft culinary competition programs on Channel 4, the commentary filtering out with an occasional expletive. Abbie and Rhys were out but would likely be home soon. You’d be back eventually, too, and he liked knowing that nowadays you came home to him.

Rhys and Abbie came back first. Harry had decided to join George in the living room, too intrigued by the shouty drama on Come Dine With Me to ignore it.

Abbie gasped at the TV. “This is the one!” She squealed.

“What one?” Rhys demanded. “Oh, yes!”

“What am I missing?” Harry asked, a little bewildered.

George shushed everyone with a finger to his lips. “I’ve been talking him through it but I want him to see.” He flailed a hand in the couple’s direction.

All four pairs of eyes glued to the TV, a vetted interest in the argument unfolding. The contestants from that week’s episodes were gathering in the final host's living room, bank notes spread in a circle atop a silver tray and holding up a scroll wrapped in red ribbon.

The front door of the house opened again, and in you waltzed, a baffled look on your face. Very rarely did you come home to find everyone in the living room.

Abbie squeaked your name, begging you to join before it kicked off on the telly. “Come on, quick.” She patted the space between her and Harry, conveniently.

His eyes were no longer interested in the TV drama, only in you.

“In fourth place is… me.”

“Ah,” you said in recognition of the scene on the telly as you sat down. Your arm brushed against Harry’s as you tucked your right foot under your left thigh, and caught yourself before you settled into his side like you normally would.

A chorus of patronising oohs filled the room from the contestants on the screen. The host was shaking his head.

“Wait, is this the-,”

“You won, Jane.”

Barking laughter filled the room from the housemates, including Harry, but the host didn’t stop there.

“Dear Lord, what a sad little life, Jane.”

“You’ve got that on a T-shirt!” Harry swatted George’s arm.

“Damn right I do.” He grinned. “Cultural icon.”

“You, or the bloke having an aneurysm?”

“Both.”

“... grace of a reversing dump truck.”

More squeals filled the room, as if the entire scene hadn’t been a meme for years now.

Abbie patted your shoulder. “Did you see the video of Penn Badgley doing this?”

“Obviously.”

“Wait, I wanna see.” Rhys frowned.

Episode forgotten, Abbie found the clip on her phone and showed it to everyone.

“Oh my God, I think I’m going to hear it in that voice forever now.” George muttered, a wistful look in his eyes.

“Shall we watch a movie or something?” Abbie suggested, a hopeful look in her eye. “We never do anything all together… it would be nice.”

“I’m up for that.” Rhys grinned, because why would he ever turn down one of his girlfriend’s ideas?

“Yeah, me too.” George nodded.

All eyes turned to you and Harry. You couldn’t very well say no now, it would look odd. Especially if you both did, which is what you both wanted to do. There were two perfectly good beds upstairs, one of which needed to be destroyed. That wasn’t very well going to happen if you both sat on the couch and watched a film with your housemates.

“Yeah, sure.” You finally said, because you hated the way everyone was looking at you.

“Go for it.” Harry managed, much worse at hiding his disapproval than you were.

“How are we going to decide, then? ‘Cause I don’t really watch the horror films you two are into,” George pointed between Abbie and Rhys, “and Harry probably only watches underground indie movies or something.”

Harry had no idea what gave him that impression, but the laugh that came out of your mouth - hearty, loud and delighted - was worth the assumption.

“Why don’t we all write a movie name down on a piece of paper that we’ll all like - a comedy or something - and do a raffle.”

“Okay, but who’s choosing?”

Harry rolled his eyes and waited for the inevitable to happen. George and Abbie fought for five minutes, both arguing that one of them should choose, and then the decision was given to you as the honorary house mediator. Everyone wrote their choices down on a scrap of paper and dropped them all into one of Rhys’s beanies. Then you closed your eyes, body screaming reluctance at having to be the decision-maker, and plucked a folded square out.

Your mouth lifted at the corners. “Shrek 2.”

Snacks were brought in, beers were shared out, and someone pressed play on the film where it had been queued up.

“Wait!” George screamed.

You all looked at him, bewildered by his dramatics. He’d even stood up.

“What?” Rhys gave him a baffled look.

“I wanna sit in the armchair.” George pointed to the very one Rhys sat in. “I don’t wanna sit in a couple sandwich. A third wheel is bad enough, but a fifth wheel is a disaster.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, laughter nervous and the ultimate giveaway.

“Oh fuck off if you two think we don’t all know you’re a thing.”

Your body tensed. Harry could feel it, the way you went from soft to rigid in a split second. “What?”

“We’ve known for ages.” Abbie said with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, like, the second Harry moved in.” George rolled his eyes.

“But we haven’t been-,”

“-Maybe not the whole time, but definitely recently. I can hear the floorboards creak, you know.” George gave you an accusatory glance. Curse him living directly beneath you. “Amongst other things.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or whether he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned pink, and you looked like you were in shock. “Right…”

“I am slightly offended that you didn’t want us to know.” Rhys folded his arms. “What did you think was gonna happen?”

He had a point. What did you think was going to happen? Mild ribbing and inappropriate jokes? It wasn’t exactly any of their business what the two of you were doing on the top floor, but that didn’t mean you’d needed to hide everything from them. Why had you stopped yourselves from being affectionate when around them? They were your friends. You all had inside jokes and a group chat and emoji code names. They were like a second family in a way. Even though you all enjoyed your own company, you liked each other too.

“I think… for a while we didn’t really know what was happening.” Harry finally spoke, twisting in his place. “We just started hanging out and it kinda grew from there.”

“I called this on day one, by the way.” George said smugly.

“It’s true, he did.” Abbie nodded, still smiling. “Two good-looking people at the top of the house? Recipe for heaven.”

“We’re happy it finally happened. Just… don’t hide shit like that from us. We’re all friends.” George was back to scowling.

“Friends.” Rhys cooed, like Jay from The Inbetweeners.

“Anyway, now that’s all out there, can we start the film please? Or it’s gonna be my bedtime.” Abbie flailed her hand around.

The movie started, everyone settled into their places, and you managed to find a comfortable position against Harry’s side.

Even though you chatted along with conversations and laughed at the telly, Harry knew something was off. You were still tense, and you didn’t touch him like you normally would. He wanted you in his arms, not pushed awkwardly against his side. He wasn’t sure if it was because you were uncomfortable displaying affection in front of other people, but whatever it was he wanted to make it go away.

He shifted at one point in an attempt to wrap an arm around your middle, but instead you moved further away. That utterly terrified him.

As the movie credits rolled, everyone started to move, ready to get to bed for the night. Except you.

“Guys,” You said, quiet as a mouse, but everyone heard you. Because you never stopped anyone for anything, “can we all have a chat?”

Dread nestled itself into Harry’s stomach. A chat? About what? Everyone? Why did everyone have to be present? What was going on?

The housemates sat back down, if a little tentatively, gazes wary. You finally gave Harry your attention, if only fleetingly with a worried smile.

“Are you alright?” Abbie asked and pulled your hand into hers.

Harry leaned forwards.

“You’ll all be getting an email tomorrow, but I wanted to tell you in person.” You licked your lips, stare heavy on the stone floor of the living room. “Dad is selling the house.”

~

A little piece of your heart broke that evening when your dad told you his plans to sell. It was a place that you had such an odd relationship with, because while it cost a lot of money and caused a lot of financial problems, it also brought you a family you never asked for and a man you never dreamed of having.

You knew your dad would try and hold onto it as long as he possibly could because it had become your home, and he’d been in bits over dinner as he broke the news. He cried, so you cried, and then your sister cried, too. Everyone had been a mess.

“What?” George said, dumbfounded. Hell, everyone was dumbfounded.

“It’s the last thing he wanted to do, but it’s kind of burning a hole in his pocket and we can’t afford it anymore. Between the leaking second floor and dodgy plumbing there’s also woodworm and stone repairs and all sorts of other crap I don���t want to bore you with.”

“You found this out today?” Abbie asked, bottom lip trembling.

“Yeah, an hour or so ago. I’m really sorry, guys.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Rhys frowned.

Abbie crawled across the small gap between her and you and wrapped her arms around you. “We get it. It’s old, it’s a bit rickety and it needs a lot of TLC. We all know your dad gave it all the care he could afford and it’s okay that he can’t afford it anymore.”

“How long do we have to find new places?” George asked, biting his lip.

“As long as it takes to sell. Given the condition of the place it could be fuckin’ ages.” You managed a laugh.

“If your dad needs us to do anything, he just needs to let us know. And we’ll make sure it’s tidy as fuck for viewings and shit.”

“Thanks, Rhys.”

The housemates starting shifting again, collecting up their bits and leaving with softly spoken good nights. You still didn’t move, and neither did Harry. After a quiet minute or so, he slipped his hand into yours and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“What are you thinking?” He asked in a gravelly whisper.

You took a deep breath, nibbling away at your lower lip. “That I’m scared.”

“Scared?”

“Mhm.”

“Scared about what?”

You turned to face him, cataloguing every crease of worry on his handsome face. “Us. What this means for us.”

He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “What do you think it means for us?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’m scared it means the end, when I don’t want it to. I’m scared that what we’ve been doing is just… convenient? And now that we have to leave it won’t be so convenient anymore and it will be over.”

“You don’t want it to be over.” It wasn’t a question.

“No. Not even a little bit. I… I don’t want a night without you ever again. I can sleep with you around. I can breathe. I need to breathe, and I can’t do that without you. And part of me hates that I need you, but I do, and the rest of me that doesn’t hate it tells me to fuck everything to the wind. Because it’s not just need, it’s also a want. I just want you around, like you have been. Presence is such a funny thing when it comes from different people, but yours… I like yours. A lot.”

Harry spoke your name in a low voice, gaze on your mouth as he smoothed his thumb across your lower lip, “I don’t want it to be over, either.” He meets your gaze again, cool, calm and collected. “I really hoped it wouldn’t be at any stage ever, least not because we have to leave the house and find another one. I’ve been living with you for three fucking years and I also don’t want to have to spend a night where you don’t live with me. Hell, it’s not even a fucking option. I know you love this place because it’s your family’s, but I don’t care where we live as long as we do it together. I’ve been looking at other places since the day I moved in, and the only reason I haven’t bothered to leave is because you kept me here, whether you meant to or not. And now we have to leave, and I’m sure as shit gonna take you with me, because I can’t live without you.”

You stared at him for a moment, and then launched into his arms, tackling him into the sofa. You peppered his face with kisses until he caught your lips and held you there, happy in the knowledge that you needed each other and that was absolutely fucking okay.

“You’re special to a lot of people, but especially to me.” Harry mumbled into your lips. “I’m selfish enough to not let you go.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Good.”

You remained in the lounge for a little while longer, wrapped up in one another, until movement began upstairs and you decided it was probably time to head upstairs to bed. Before you made it to the stairs, Rhys and George appeared in front of you. Rhys looked apprehensive and George looked irritated he’d been dragged out of his room again.

“What’s going on?” You asked, cocking your head.

“Abbie’s in the loo so I’m gonna make this real quick before she comes back.” Rhys threw a wary glance over his shoulder. “I need your help.”

~

Every morning was the same.

This week it had been, anyway. You woke up with the sunrise, wrapped in Harry’s arms, and you listened to his heartbeat and his unconscious breathing for a blissful twenty minutes before his alarm went off. Then he’d fall out of bed with a reluctant yawn, mooch his way around the room and disappear into the bathroom to get ready for work.

Upon reappearing he’d head to the kitchen to make a coffee and leave a cup of tea on your bedside table, then a kiss on your lips, and then you’d watch the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ leave your apartment from the comfiest spot in the bedroom.

Today was the same, but different. He wasn’t going to work today, and neither were you. It meant longer in bed, with enough time for sexy shenanigans, then he’d make for the bathroom, bring you tea afterwards and breakfast.

You spent the day in bed, right up until 5 o’clock when you had to get up and go out to give your keys back.

Yes, your dad had managed to sell the house. It had taken a while, but it got there. The new owners were moving in tomorrow, and you’d all arranged to meet your dad and your sister there to do a final ‘handover’.

George had moved into a studio flat in the centre of town but spent most of his nights at his boyfriend’s place. Rhys and Abbie had finally bought that house they always wanted, out of town but easy to travel into. And you and Harry also had your own place, still renting and in the city, but it was yours together, and that was all you wanted.

“Are you nervous?” Harry asked as you walked up to the front of old Blackpool Tower.

“I’m not the one that needs to be nervous.” You shrugged, even if you had been the one to help Rhys with most of the planning.

He’d been a lot of work over the past few weeks. After he initially asked for your help he spent so long searching for the damn jewellery he forgot about the rest of it. You had reminded him on many occasions that it didn’t need a big song and dance, but he insisted, because he wanted it in the house you’d all shared with her favourite people to witness it.

The garden was lit up in the early evening with fairy lights and candles. George, your sister and your dad were already at the far end waiting for Rhys and Abbie to arrive. You gave over your keys - dad had the house professionally cleaned even though you had offered, because it was too big a task for one person.

Blackpool Illuminations

Rhys We’re nearly there…

Yes, Rhys had really named the group chat for the planning committee ‘Blackpool Illuminations’.

You stood next to your sister who wrapped herself around your middle, and Harry kept hold of your free hand.

“I hope she says no.” Your sister said, and Harry snorted. “Just for a laugh.”

“I don’t think Abbie has it in her to say no to Rhys.” You mused.

Five minutes later the couple in question turned up. Abbie had no idea what was going on, obviously. She’d been told they were going for dinner and then for a walk. The walk was always supposed to end here, at the old house.

Abbie gasped at the sight before her, hands on her mouth as she moved through the garden. “What’s going on?”

Behind her, Rhys swiftly dropped to one knee and presented the ring he’d spent months agonising over. “Abbie,”

You all watched and listened as Rhys spent five minutes talking about how perfect his girl was for him. It was very typical Rhys - overboard and unnecessarily long. Most things maybe could’ve been kept for his wedding vows.

Just as your sister was about to explode from restlessness, Rhys finally asked, “Will you marry me?”

“I would’ve said yes five minutes ago.” Abbie giggled, nodding, and held her left hand out.

George and your sister started hollering, your dad was pretending not to cry, and you fell into Harry’s hold again, watching the happy couple with a warm smile.

“I hope to God they don’t ask me to help plan the actual wedding.”

Harry chuckled and pressed his lips into your temple. “I’ll make sure they don’t.”

Your sister presented herself in front of you with an assured look on her face. “When are you two getting engaged, then?”

Harry choked behind you, and you gave your sister a bewildered look. “Reel it in, please.”

“What?” She shrugged. “Being in love suits you. A wedding would really suit you.”

“A wedding isn’t something you arrange for an aesthetic, sis.” You reminded her.

“Speak for yourself, but I do recommend heavily considering it.”

After she turned away, Harry lowered his mouth to the shell of your ear. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”

You tightened his arms around you. “One day.” You said with a kiss to his palm.

His smile imprinted on your cheek. “One day.”

~.~.~.~.~

Thank you so v much for reading if you make it this far. It’s a long one, I know. The longest one shot I’ve actually ever done. Much love to you <3

[anifever]

maybe some Dallas Winston OR Sodapop Curtis dating headcanons? :3

Dating Sodapop Curtis HCs ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Sodapop Curtis x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : HC’s of dating Tulsa’s pretty boy

A/N : I see soooo much of Dallas all over tumblr so I picked Soda 😭 may do him next tho. Also Rob serves sm face

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🥤 ˚₊‧⁺˖

୨ SO attentative

୨ I wrote this for Darry too but he loves having his hands on you at all times

୨ I think handholding or a hand on your hip would be the most common

୨ PDA is scared of this man.

୨ Loves sleeping with you; napping, etc, he just likes knowing you’re with him

୨ Most of his jokes are awful so you laugh out of pity or are simply the only person that finds them funny

୨ Steve makes fun of his ‘charm’ around you all the time

୨ He always gives you his flannels whenever you get cold (or if there’s even a slight breeze… he might be showing off a bit)

୨ He’s also the type to lay his jacket on top of a puddle for you when you could easily walk around it LMAO

୨ He’s just a gentleman in general

୨ Carrying bags for you, opening doors, etc

୨ You also get piggybacks from him constantly even if you could walk by yourself

୨ You get spoiled whether it’s with affection or items- doesn’t even matter that they’re kinda poor

୨ You definitely get flowers every date night (whether he bought them or picked them himself)

୨ You have to care for him every time he digests dairy

୨ Drinks chocolate milk every morning anyways even tho he knows it’ll kill his stomach

୨ Also comforting him whenever he gets dragged into one of Pony and Darry’s fights

୨ You guys definitely dance around in the living room or something

୨ It’s pretty playful yet still romantic

୨ Protective.

୨ He also gets jealous pretty easily whether you wanna say it’s because of Sandy or just in general

୨ You get hugged CONSTANTLY, usually from behind

୨ You always come to visit him after school- or on the weekends- as he works at the DX

୨ You usually sit with him behind the counter but sometimes you have to go to the break room because he gets too distracted whilst working 😭

୨ On top of all that, you bring him lunches with you as well (along with ones for Steve)

୨ He remembers every little detail you tell him

୨ Like even if he’s a little dumb (😇🫶) he somehow knows what your favorite pre-school teacher’s name was

୨ He writes you short and cheesy love letters from time to time

୨ Yes, half the words are always spelt wrong but who cares??? You can’t make fun of that pretty face

୨ The gang almost never hears him call you by your actual name

୨ It’s always a pet name unless he’s talking about you to them and other people

୨ You eventually get used to/enjoy the smell of grease and gasoline from how often he gets covered in it

୨ You guys def shower together on a pretty regular basis whether it becomes sexual or not

୨ Baking together!! (he makes the biggest mess in the world and is kinda bad at it but you help him)

୨ You guys definitely get red and blue slushies from the DX and both have purple tongues an hour later

୨ You always offer to wash his clothes for him which seems kinda weird but it’s just because you want his clothes smelling like you/your detergent

୨ He definitely started letting you do it constantly from then on

୨ He’s literally the embodiment of “THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND!!!!”

୨ He’s just such a sweetie- sodapop I wish u were real 💔