#i made this on mobile so shes just long

[tkbrokkoli]

just thought about that sherlock relapsed without his support system after being "dead". he's not wearing his sobriety pin anymore. he hasn't told watson about it. watson says he seems happy and he says that working as a detective abroad but not as himself was the best time of his life. I'm not sure if that's actually true????

[fingertipsmp3]

Had THE funniest dream last night

[dreamerlynx]

did Not realize how badly I’d spiraled and made myself feel like I’d ruined this class and just needed to accept I’d fail and wouldn’t graduate this semester until I went to the meeting I arranged to talk to the teacher abt if I had any chance of passing still and she like. outlined a different thing I should do for the final project which already feels more approachable n manageable And suggested I try to talk to the dean abt getting a medical extension. and like I left feeling actually hopeful. like Oh I can actually do this and she wants to help me do this.

it’s not just dream ppl r good and lovely 💚 /joke

[lessycusee]

henley should’ve been in the second film bc she deserved to interact on screen w lula & have a positive on screen interaction w another woman. bc like henley is SUCH a girl’s girl. she loves other women, loves to hype them up! like !!!

[ddejavvu]

no cause now I'm thinking about Garcia freaking out when Spencer comes to work with a smartphone and asking him what made him finally get one after years of her asking him too and Spence just going bright red and stammering trying to think of a reason that isn't related to your nudes 🤭

part 1

--

Spencer's text tone is what gives him away, because he's not interested enough in the device to use it for anything other than necessity. But the familiar whistle has everyone digging in their pockets until they see Spencer reaching into his own bag.

"Reid, I don't think it's your landline," Prentiss snickers, checking her own phone to find a blank screen.

"I got a new phone yesterday." Spencer grumbles, "And I keep forgetting to ask Y/N how to turn the sounds off."

Penelope blinks at Spencer owlishly as he retracts a brand new, shiny iPhone from his messenger bag, default background shining especially bright against the dark wood table. She'll tell him later that it's the switch on the left side, but now she gawps, "Spencer, you got a new phone?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" He already looks mildly annoyed at the teasing, probably because he'd stubbornly stuck to his outdated mobile for so long that his pride has an iPhone-shaped bruise.

"What made you make the change?" Hotch asks, voice gentler but curious all the same.

"Yeah, I've been begging you for, like, years, Reid." Garcia frowns, "Texting me isn't really texting me if I can't send you gifs from the gif keyboard."

"She favors the one of the dancing baby," Rossi drawls, "But I'm sure that's not what Dr. Reid felt compelled to upgrade for."

The notification that's displayed across his screen is a message from you, but that's predictable because he'd adamantly refused to get notifications from anything but text messages and calls. He's still partial to his newspapers, and he won't fill an online grocery cart if he can help it.

'Y/N: Attachment: 1 image'

There's not much he can see from the little thumbnail to the right of the notification, but- it's enough. It's the color of your skin, mostly the color of your skin, with splashes of red in between. He knows he can't open it now, and he wishes he had just a little more experience with situations like this so that he could maintain some composure.

"Uhm," He starts, cheeks most likely bright pink, "I don't know, I just- I just thought it was time, probably. Y/N says she didn't like that my messages were green."

"Oh, it's Y/N," Morgan croons, and JJ consoles Garcia with a sympathetic smile and a pat to the arm.

"Well-! And, and it's good for the GPS, but I do still prefer paper maps," Spencer rambles, "And it's- it's nice to see how many literary-themed emailing lists there are."

"Emailing lists," Morgan scoffs, "Pretty boy, you're signing up for spam. But whatever text has got you blushing there isn't about Shakespeare. Just let me know when you need a lesson in taking your own pictures, m'kay? She doesn't want weird angles or bad lighting, trust me."

[gf2bellamy]

I know that this is a common trope in the Spencer Reid fandom but a cliche is popular for a reason and I'd love to see your take on it please:

The BAU finding out Spencer has a girlfriend because he left something/his lunch at home whilst he was getting ready so she comes to his office to deliver it back to him ♡

file — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think a/n: hi hi thank you for your request !! also omg i rewrote this like 3 times

You set your coffee cup down with a quiet clink, the ceramic making a sound against the kitchen counter.Your breath hitched as your gaze locked onto the object in front of you.

There it was.

Spencer’s case file.

He never shared too much about his cases—partly because of protocol, but mostly because he wanted to shield you from the horrors he faced daily.

But this one? He had mentioned this one. Briefly. Just enough for you to know it was important.

And now, he had left it here.

You exhaled through your nose, rubbing your temple as you stared at the file like it might somehow transport itself back into his hands.

Well, this was a problem.

Your mind raced through the inevitable sequence of events: Spencer, halfway through his workday, reaching for the file. The sharp inhale as realization struck. The way his fingers would twitch slightly before running through his hair in frustration. He’d mutter something about cognitive failure rates, probably cite a study about memory lapses under stress, and then—inevitably—blame himself. He was hard on himself like that.

But, in all fairness… this was totally your fault.

Oops.

He had barely made it out the door this morning because of you.

Not that you regretted it.

You smiled to yourself, warmth flooding your chest as you remembered.

Spencer hated leaving you in bed alone. You hated being in bed alone. It was a whole thing. A silent agreement, an unspoken rule between the two of you—when morning came, you stretched those precious minutes as long as you could. And today, you had stretched them a little too long.

He had sighed against your hair, murmured something about needing to get up, but his arms hadn’t moved from around you. His body was warm and you had curled closer, pressing a lazy kiss against his collarbone.

“Five more minutes,” you had whispered, voice still thick with sleep. Spencer hummed in response, fingers tracing mindless patterns along your arm. Five minutes had turned into ten, then fifteen…

And, well. Here you were.

Thirty minutes passed. Still no text back from Spencer.

Not that it was unusual.

You had once asked him about his habit of completely ignoring his phone for hours on end, and in true Spencer fashion, he had launched into a full-blown explanation—something about the overuse of mobile devices leading to dependency, the correlation between constant notifications and increased anxiety, and the statistical probability of missing something actually important when bombarded with mundane messages throughout the day.

Point was—Spencer wasn’t glued to his phone. Which meant he likely hadn't even seen your text yet.

You chewed your lip for a moment, the decision hanging in the air.

Well, if Spencer wouldn’t come to you, then you’d go to him.

It seemed like a trip to the BAU was in order.

And if, in the process, you just happened to pick out your favorite outfit before heading out? Well, that was purely coincidental.

It wasn’t like you were nervous or anything.

Okay. Maybe just a little.

Because, despite how long you and Spencer had been together, you’d somehow never officially met his team. You had heard plenty about them—stories from Spencer scattered between sips of coffee, casual mentions of their names, the occasional anecdote about Garcia’s pranks or Morgan’s teasing. But meeting them in person? That had never happened.

And if you were about to walk into the BAU for the first time, to meet all of them in one go, all while hand-delivering a file Spencer had forgotten because you’d been too busy keeping him in bed this morning…

Well. You wanted to look nice, at the very least.

So, you’d taken a little extra time to pick out an outfit. Something that felt casual but still put-together.

After a final glance in the mirror, adjusting the hem of your shirt, you grabbed the case file and headed out the door.

By the time you reached the FBI building, you were… okay. Not totally at ease, but you weren’t quite spiraling, either. A small victory, considering the nerves that had been building inside you since you’d left the house.

You checked in at the front desk, received your visitor’s pass, and found yourself standing in front of the elevator. You couldn’t help but tap your foot nervously against the tiled floor, your mind racing with the possibility of meeting everyone.

As you waited, a tall man stepped up beside you. He had dark hair, a sharp jawline, and an air of professionalism.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. The man stepped forward, and you followed.

“What floor?” he asked, his voice calm, his eyes already on the button panel.

“The sixth,” you said. “The BAU.”

He nodded, pressing the button. Notably, he didn’t press any other buttons, which meant he was heading to the same place.

The elevator hummed upward, the soft sound of its ascent filling the silence between you. You tried to stay still, but the nerves in your stomach had made their way to your foot, which began tapping again—slightly faster this time, almost involuntarily.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance down at your foot’s restless rhythm before looking ahead again, his expression still unreadable.

When the elevator doors finally slid open, you both stepped out. As you moved into the hallway, you hesitated, glancing around the space, trying to figure out where Spencer’s desk could be.

Before you could overthink it too much, you turned back toward the man, suddenly realizing you had no idea how to address him.

“Uh—excuse me, sir?” You winced inwardly at your own awkwardness. Sir? Really?

To your relief, he didn’t seem offended. He stopped and turned just slightly, offering you a neutral look, like he was patiently waiting for you to continue.

“Do you, um… know where Spencer Reid works?” you asked quickly, holding up the case file in your hand as if it were some sort of explanation. “He forgot this at home, and I just—”

You cut yourself off, realizing you were rambling. Oh my god, you were turning into your boyfriend.

The man studied you for a moment, and you felt a wave of heat creep up your neck, suddenly worried that you’d just embarrassed yourself in front of someone important. But then, with a small nod, he answered.

“He’s in the conference room. I’ll take you.”

“Oh. Thank you!” you said, managing to sound more confident than you felt.

Without another word, he turned and began walking. You quickly fell into step behind him, eager to keep up.

As you followed him down the hallway, his words replayed in your mind. Conference room.

Wait.Didn’t that mean—

Oh. Oh no.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks just as the man ahead of you pushed open a door. He stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter, and you barely had time to collect yourself before walking into the room.

And suddenly, all eyes were on you.

Your stomach dropped.

Around the large conference table sat several people, each of them pausing whatever they were doing to look at you. Some were curious, others confused, but most were simply… staring. And then there was one person who seemed to be completely frozen in shock.

That one, of course, was your wonderful boyfriend.

Spencer Reid sat there, motionless, eyes wide, as though you’d just appeared out of nowhere. His pen was hovering mid-air, as though he’d been caught in the middle of a thought and his mouth hung slightly open.

You felt your face heat up.

“Uh—hi?” you offered weakly, holding up the file like it was some sort of lifeline.

The man who had led you here—who, at this point, you were very sure was someone important—cleared his throat. His voice was as flat as ever.

“Reid,” he said, his tone unreadable. “Your file.”

Spencer blinked rapidly, snapping out of his trance.

“Right! Right, yes—um, thank you,” he stammered, his voice flustered. He stood so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor,nearly knocking over his coffee ,causing you to wince in sympathy.

You stepped forward to hand him the file. The second your fingers brushed against his, you swore you saw the tips of his ears turn the faintest shade of red.

From across the room, a dark-haired woman—who you guessed had to be Emily Prentiss, judging by the barely suppressed smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth—glanced between you and Spencer, her head tilting slightly as she observed the scene.

“So,” she said casually, her voice light but full of mischief, “you’re the reason he was almost late this morning?”

Your face went hot, and Spencer made a noise somewhere between a cough and a strangled gasp.

Emily’s smirk deepened, and you could practically feel the attention of every single person in the room zeroing in on you and Spencer. The room was so still, you could hear a pin drop.

Even Penelope—who had been in the middle of explaining a case, hands gesturing wildly—had completely abandoned her train of thought. Her mouth dropped open in delighted shock, her eyes widening as she took in the scene.

“Oh my god, is this real?” she squealed, her voice way louder than it probably needed to be. “Reid, my little geeky bean has a girlfriend?!” Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement. “A very cute girlfriend, I might add!” She made a big show of squinting at you through her oversized glasses, like she was some sort of detective herself. “How did we not know about this?!”

JJ raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but Derek—well, Derek looked like it was Christmas morning.

He leaned forward with an expression of pure glee. “Hold up,” he said, grinning ear-to-ear, “Reid, you got yourself a lady and didn’t tell us?”

“I-” Spencer stuttered under his breath, looking like he was actively trying to will himself invisible.

Penelope was practically bouncing on her heels now. “Not just a lady,” she chimed in again, adjusting her glasses dramatically as she looked you over with wide, sparkling eyes. “A very cute lady. Like, ‘I need to know everything about you’ cute! How did you two keep this a secret? You’ve been holding out on us, Spence!”

Rossi, who had been sitting back and watching the chaos unfold , leaned back in his chair with a half-smile. “Seems like , Dr. Reid has been keeping secrets,” he said dryly, giving Spencer a knowing look.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh at the scene around you. It was hard to stay composed when everyone was so… extra. You shifted awkwardly on your feet, feeling your face burning, but it didn’t stop you from noticing how Spencer scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly wishing he could vanish into thin air.

Spencer, still very much red-faced, finally turned toward you, his expression caught between mortification and fondness. His voice was soft.

“Thank you,” he said, with a small awkward smile. “For, um… bringing me the file.”

You smiled, tilting your head, trying to suppress a grin at how adorable he looked when flustered. “Of course,” you said, your voice warm, matching his tone. “Anytime.”

Before Spencer could muster a response, you leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek. The moment your lips brushed his skin, Spencer froze, his eyes going wide for a split second like he couldn’t quite comprehend what just happened.

The entire room went silent, save for the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as Penelope’s excited squeal filled the air.

Spencer remained absolutely still for a moment, blinking as if he were trying to reboot his brain. You couldn’t help but feel a tiny rush of satisfaction at how flustered he looked.

“I’ll see you at home,” you murmured, your smile widening as you pulled back. “Love you.”

You watched as Spencer’s mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was about to say something, but his words failed him completely. It wasn’t surprising—he’d never been the best at handling public displays of affection, especially when they caught him off guard like this.

"Bye everyone." Without giving him—or the rest of the team—a chance to respond, you turned on your heel and made your way toward the door.

“Did you see that?” you heard Penelope say as you left the room, her voice barely containing her excitement. “Reid, my little shy genius has a girlfriend and she just kissed him in front of us!”

JJ chuckled from across the room, her voice full of amusement. “I think Spencer might need a minute,” she said dryly, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

The sound of their teasing faded as the door closed behind you, and you allowed yourself a little breath of relief, knowing that Spencer’s team was kind but very curious.

As the elevator doors closed, you found yourself grinning, already imagining how the rest of the day would unfold.

[flippinpancakes64]

the cullens with a reader who isn't the best at showing emotions so their way of showing love is by biting? Like not hard but gently.

BTW I love your writing, keep up the good work 💞

The Cullens with a reader who bites

Thank you for the kind words! And I definitely relate to this prompt. But with my cat. Like cuteness aggression is real and I’m a victim. Petting her isn’t enough I need to eat her yk

Anyways thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He understands a little bit

He can hear the thoughts in your head, he sees how much they overwhelm you

It happened the first time when he was over at your house for a movie date

He was wearing casual clothes, a hoodie and some sweatpants

He wanted to make sure you had something soft to lay your head on

But something happened when you saw him in the hoodie

Your mind lit up, fireworks going off, sprinkled with phrases of how “cute” he looked and how you wanted to crawl into his skin

He called you over to him and let you squeeze him as hard as you wanted, but it still wasn’t enough

He could hear the frustration in your mind about how you were still unsatisfied

He was about to suggest climbing into his hoodie with him when he felt you bite down on his bicep

He was shocked to say the least

But you know what, at least it helped

He tries to limit how much you can bite him in public, but when it’s just the two of you, he lets you do what you want

He’s an enabler, what can I say

Alice:

She didn’t even see it coming the first time

Which is rare for her

You were sitting on her bed with your eyes closed since Alice had a gift she wanted to give to you

You opened your eyes and saw a bracelet made of brown, gold and *insert your eye color here* beads

On her wrist was a matching one

You sprang up and tackled her in a hug immediately

You both would have fallen if she didn’t have inhuman strength

But hugging her wasn’t enough

So you bit her

She felt a pressure on her right shoulder, just above where her shirt ended, right on her skin

She didn’t know what it was until she felt the heat and faint wetness

She thought it was tears to be honest

So she was definitely shocked when she pulls you back and sees your mouth wide open and your eyes perfectly dry

“… did you just bite me?”

“…no…”

“You’re so silly”

She lets you bite her as much as you want

It’s not like it affects her

Just so long as you don’t get drool on her clothes

Jasper:

He can also feel how strong your emotions are

He’s never felt someone who feels things so strongly

Honestly, he’s surprised you can even live a normal life

One day you’re just sitting on the couch, playing on your phone while a movie plays on the tv

Suddenly, your phone starts to jostle a little bit

You look and see Jasper putting a charging cable into your phone

“What’s that for?”

“Your battery was getting pretty low, figured you could use some charge”

And like nothing even happened, he goes back to playing mobile games on his phone

You become so overcome with emotion, so much love just fills your body

He can feel your emotions start to fry, threatening to overflow

He’s about to send some calmness your way when he feels you chomp down onto his forearm

He’s so shocked he doesn’t even move

You quickly unlatch, moving away and apologizing, but he just smiles

“It’s alright, darling. I’d rather have your teeth marks here than the ones I’ve got now”

So charming

Rosalie:

The day of Prom is here

You didn’t want to go, but you would never deny Rosalie a chance to dress up

So that’s how you found yourself here, fully dressed and waiting on Rosalie to finish getting her hair and makeup done

You hear her heels click towards the closed door and turn your eyes as it creaks open

There stands Rosalie, beautiful golden hair pulled into an intricate updo, her makeup perfectly accentuating her natural beauty, and a dark red dress that sweeps the floor

You just couldn’t contain yourself

You latch onto her, biting into her exposed shoulder

She yelps out of shock, definitely not expecting that

You try to walk away and pretend it didn’t happen, but she’s not one for that

She has similar rules to Alice, only no biting her in public

She loves that you love her so much that you can’t contain it

That’s what she’s always wanted after all

Overall, though, she doesn’t mind

Just seriously, don’t mess with the clothes

Emmett:

He was literally just sitting there

Like not doing anything, sitting on the couch, watching a movie that you had put on

You had gotten up to get some more popcorn and had to just pause to take him in

He looked so cute bundled up in the couch, your favorite blanket thrown around him from earlier

You set the popcorn down on the table and leaped at him

He didn’t even get a chance to react

Suddenly you were on top of him, your arms wrapped in a vice grip around his throat, your legs fully koala-ed around his middle

You were kissing every single surface on his face, whispering how cute he looked and how much you love him in between

He was giggling like a little girl, his face would be beet red if he could still blush

When suddenly he feels your teeth on his shoulder

“Pump the brakes there, piranha, what’s that for?”

“Sorry Em, I just love you so much I can’t control myself”

“Damn, do I at least taste good?”

He thinks it’s hilarious

He calls you his little snapping turtle

Esme:

She’s confused

She just asked what you wanted for dinner and now your teeth are in her arm

She doesn’t even shake you off she just kind of stands there

Like uhm are you okay?

You’re gonna need to explain to her why you did that

And afterwards she just laughs

She doesn’t fully understand, but that’s okay cause she also just doesn’t care

If it makes you happy then it makes her happy

She’ll let you bite her but with limitations

No biting in public

No biting her hair (not that you would anyway)

No biting her so hard that you hurt yourself

And she’ll eventually tell you to ease up after a while

“Darling? You’ve been there for a couple minutes now, you want to stop for a second please?”

Overall she’s confused but tries not to intervene

If this is what you need to do to express your love then go for it

Carlisle:

He’s only ever been bitten once

And that wasn’t a very pleasant experience to say the least

So it’s the last thing he expects you to do

But let’s be honest, how could you resist?

He had rolled up the sleeves to his sleek button up, flipping through pages of his old medical books, looking for a specific article he wanted to show you

By now you’ve completely forgotten what you even asked him about

You just leaned in slowly and bit into his forearm, your teeth sinking in slightly to the strong muscles there

“… are you hungry?”

Genuinely confused

You can try to explain as much as you want, he’s still going to research it later

He doesn’t have very many rules as far as this goes

If you wanna bite him, then go for it

He thinks it’s a nice, fun thing

And it shows how much you love him

Everyone enjoys a nice ego stroke now and then

Vampire! Bella:

She’s definitely felt cuteness aggression before

But never with another person

She was just sitting there helping you do your homework and you just.. bit her

“Did you just bite me?”

“…. No….”

“You’re a liar”

She doesn’t actually mind

She’s just so confused

She still envisions herself as that plain-looking clumsy girl

Like wdym SHES the one making you feral?

But she is flattered

Absolutely does NOT let you pull that shit in public tho

She’s still too shy for that

You’re gonna need to put a pin in it till you guys get home

But once you’re there… she still has limits

She’s not a big pda person

Or a big physical touch person

She’s like a cat

She’s okay with it for a little bit but too much and she needs you to stop

Think like one or two bites a day

Any more than that and she gets squirmy

[thesecondhandwoman]

you did my last ask so great I had to ask again. This time could you do a Grayson or Ambessa with a chronically ill reader. More so on the chronic pain side. Maybe they need mobile aids? Take your time, drink some water and take care of yourself

-🧚‍♂️

CHRONICALLY ILL

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: Ambessa has always loved you, ever since the day you two had become so close. But once you slowly become more and more ill, you start to doubt that she would ever love such a burden.

Request: Anon 🤍

Noxus, with its towering spires and ever-burning forges, was a city of unyielding strength. It was a place where weakness was supposedly stamped out, where survival meant thriving against all odds. You had grown up in the shadow of that philosophy, and it had shaped you in ways you didn’t fully realize until your body began to betray you.

At first, it had been manageable—an ache here, a stiffness there. But as the years went on, the pain grew relentless. It wasn’t the kind of battle you could fight with a blade or conquer with brute force, and in Noxus, that was a struggle all its own.

Then there was Ambessa.

Your life as her assistant had started humbly, a position born out of necessity rather than ambition. You had worked tirelessly, managing her correspondence, organizing her campaigns, and ensuring her days flowed as seamlessly as possible. Ambessa had always been a figure larger than life—sharp, commanding, and utterly unyielding. But as time passed, she had seen through the masks you wore, glimpsing the pain you thought you’d hidden so well.

And instead of turning away, she stayed.

Now, as the warm glow of her private study illuminated the richly furnished room, you sat curled up in your favorite chair, a steaming cup of tea trembling slightly in your hands. Your cane rested against the chair’s arm, its polished wood worn smooth from years of use.

The pain was worse today, a deep, gnawing ache that radiated through your legs and up into your spine. Even the soft cushion beneath you felt unforgiving, and every shift of your weight sent new waves of discomfort rippling through your body. You tried to focus on the tea, on the way the steam curled into the air, but it was impossible to ignore the familiar throb of pain.

The sound of heavy boots against the stone floor made your heart jump. Ambessa entered the room with the confidence of someone who owned not just the space but the very air within it. Her gaze swept over you, sharp and assessing, and she frowned the moment her eyes met yours.

“How long have you been sitting there, little one?” Her voice was low, rich, and filled with a concern she never bothered to mask when it came to you.

You offered a tired smile, though it felt half-hearted at best. “Not too long,” you lied, knowing she wouldn’t believe you.

Ambessa crossed the room in a few long strides, her imposing presence somehow comforting rather than intimidating. She knelt before you, her strong hands resting on the arms of your chair as she studied your face.

“Do not lie to me,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of command.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging under the invisible weight you carried. “A while,” you admitted. “It’s been one of those days.”

Her frown deepened, and she reached out to take the teacup from your trembling hands, setting it aside with care. Her calloused fingers found yours, enveloping them in a warmth that made your throat tighten.

“You should have called for me,” she said, her tone gentle but firm.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you replied, looking away. “You’ve got armies to command, strategies to plan. You don’t need to be worrying about me.”

Ambessa let out a soft, exasperated sigh. “And yet, here I am, worrying about you. What does that tell you?”

You didn’t answer, the guilt curling in your chest too heavy to put into words.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice softening. When you finally met her gaze, her amber eyes were filled with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. “You are not a burden, Y/N. You are not something I tolerate or endure. You are mine, and I will always care for you. Do you understand?”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you nodded silently.

Ambessa rose smoothly to her full height, towering over you but somehow making you feel safe rather than small. She moved to sit on the armrest of your chair, her arm wrapping around your shoulders as she pulled you against her side. The scent of steel and leather clung to her, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“Tell me what you need,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your temple.

“Just…stay,” you whispered, leaning into her. “It helps, having you here.”

She pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her lips lingering for a moment before she pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Then here I’ll stay.”

The hours slipped by as Ambessa stayed true to her word. She didn’t so much as glance at the mountain of paperwork on her desk or the sealed missives waiting for her attention. Instead, she focused entirely on you.

When your pain became too much to sit upright, she helped you to the large, plush bed in the corner of the room. She adjusted the pillows with meticulous care, ensuring your legs were elevated just enough to ease the pressure.

“Comfortable?” she asked, her hand lingering on your knee as she knelt beside the bed.

“Getting there,” you said with a faint smile.

She nodded, standing to fetch a soft, fur-lined blanket from a nearby chair. Draping it over you, she tucked it around your sides with a gentleness that would have surprised anyone who only knew her as the iron-fisted warlord of Noxus.

As you settled in, the pain began to ebb—not completely, but enough that you could breathe a little easier. Ambessa sat beside you, her hand resting on top of yours, her thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles.

“Tell me about the mountains again,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled, a rare and genuine expression that lit up her face. “Ah, the mountains. Strong, unyielding, and ancient. They remind me of you.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t feel very unyielding right now.”

Ambessa’s smile didn’t waver. “Perhaps not in this moment. But every day, you endure what would break most others. That is strength, my love. Strength I admire.”

Her words wrapped around you like a shield, deflecting the self-doubt that often lingered at the edges of your mind.

“Thank you,” you murmured, squeezing her hand weakly.

“Always,” she replied, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

As the night wore on, your pain ebbed and flowed, but Ambessa remained at your side. She spoke of her travels, of the unyielding peaks of Noxus, and the people who called them home. Her voice was steady, like the rhythm of a heartbeat, lulling you into a fragile sense of peace.

When sleep finally claimed you, it was with the knowledge that no matter how relentless your battles became, Ambessa would always be there—your shield, your comfort, and the one person who made the fight worth it.

A/N: This is definitely not my best way of successfully fulfilling a response, but I hope it was alright! (I love requests like this)

[cat0901h3]

Goosebumps Books 1-10

Can't believe that it took me nearly two years to just do 10 covers for the books. Will be posting more Goosebumps in the future, along with other stuff.

Read more to know my personal opinions and critiques on my fanart for each book:

Welcome to Dead House: I wanted to make the house look alive like Monster House, so I gave it more human characteristics (ie: the people in the windows to form eyes, or the finger-like branches.) Also paid homage to a horror film by styling it after The Amityville Horror house.

The Benson children themselves look a bit depressed, that's because the first book is actually more scarier than the rest of the series, so they're a bit angsty.

Stay Out of the Basement: This one killed a lot of my green markers lol. I tried to make Dr. Brewer as menacing as possible while still showing that he is a father with the photos, There were going to be more plants reaching out, but I decided that the leaves hidden on him would be enough.

Though I have to admit my disappointment with the lighting. It still looks a bit too bright, and not dark enough. That's just my own critique.

Monster Blood: Honestly, pretty mixed about this one. While I'm proud of the bubbling ooze that looks like a skull, which is outlined by one of my colored pens. I'm not proud that everything else is so muted with brown. Almost all of Jacobus' works are vibrant and saturated, so it being dull in colors feels like a disservice to him.

Also, Andy's last name was made up by me, she apparently just doesn't have one. It's inspired by Stephen King. Btw, hope you love banana and strawberry dyed hair, you'll see more of it soon in future batches.

Say Cheese and Die!: One of my favorite books, and of course it gets the best fanart imo. The screaming skeleton form of Greg Banks with red bg in the polaroid, contrasting with the dark background is just super cool, coolest shit I've ever done. Though I might be biased, I really like skeletons. Like Curly.

I actually made concept art for a Say Cheese and Die! graphic novel, which includes drawings of the photos and Spidey! Let me know if you're curious.

The Curse of The Mummy's Tomb: Not much to this one honestly. Just a mummy casually busting down a wall filled with hieroglyphics. Though I will say, I was experimenting with shading with purple and blues like Jacobus. As you can see, didn't stick for long.

This is also the book that I discovered that if the protag doesn't have a last name, then there is an official one either in the Presents novels, the mobile app, comics or other.

Let's Get Invisible!: This was pretty tricky to draw. Drawing someone turning invisible maybe easy in Photoshop or Procreate, but this was traditional art. Sure Jacobus did it with airbrushes, but I all had were pens and markers. But I somehow managed to pull it off, which is insane that I even managed that in the first place.

Night of the Living Dummy: Ah, the infamous Pamela Vorhees book, where the main antagonist isn't the mascot, but instead some other puppet lol. I've seen a lot of fanart of Slappy, but never of Mr. Wood. So I wanted to do justice for Wood while still showcasing Slappy. While I am proud for how it mostly turned out, there are two things that bother me. 1. This is the night sky that is black, the rest are either blue or purple. 2. I forgot to add the lines that make the jaw on Mr. Wood, whoops.

Aside from that, I hope guys like that Misfits poster in the background and Kris's cool hair cut. The green was inspired by the comic adaption not 2015 Jacksepticeye.

The Girl Who Cried Monster: Please forgive me for the small thumbnail, I wasn't using a ruler at the time. The design for Mr. Mortman wasn't much of a challenge. I loosely based it off of the French rendition of the cover and gave him a large leech-like mouth.

In my headcannon, the teeth spin like a garbage disposal, making easy work of the turtles.

Welcome to Camp Nightmare: Another one of my favorites, and I think I did a decent enough job, too. The lighting is perfect, the clouds look alien enough, and you can just barely see the screaming campers inside the tent. I do have one issue though, and that is the size of the monster, Sabre. In the original sketch I did, he was supposed to blend in like a bush, but instead he looks like Sasquatch Sr. Oh well.

While they did give Billy a last name in the Presents books, I had to make up one for Dawn. Just based it off Gwen Stacy lol. Also, hope you enjoy the little bonus pictures down below.

The Ghost Next Door: The original Jacobus art was perfectly vague enough to keep the twist there but not spoil anything. Of course to do the same thing, but with a twist of my own. The "ghost" shadow that you see in the street is the Dark Figure that follows Hannah around or when Danny is near. I wanted it to look like it was constantly on fire, since SPOILERS: someone in the book does die in a fire.

Another headcannon is that the Dark Figure isn't actually a ghost or whatever, but instead the embodiment of Misery.

[maudie-duan]

Summary: If you love me right, then who knows, I might let you make me Juno...Harry’s is the hot owner of a coffee shop you frequent. What are the odds he’s been dying to get your number??? A/N: Shout out to @howling-wolf97 for the request!! From my new Sabrina Series: Harry One Shots inspired by lyrics from our favorite little icon, Sabrina Carpenter.

Sabrina Series Masterlist

Have a Sabrina request?<-

Word Count: 10.2k

Warning: 18+ fluff/smut

Marie: Dude, is that for real? 

Y/N: Yes! Like we were talking, and for some reason, I felt bold and was like, prove it. 

Marie: Wow! Very bold for my prude whittle bb. 

Y/N: Omg, dude, I’m not a prude. I’m just shy, and honestly, I’m so proud of myself. He makes me so freaking nervous. He’s so fuuuuuucking hot. 

Marie: God bless his dad’s genetics! 🍆🍆🍆

Y/N: I know!! The whole package! 

Marie: He’s practically offering it up on a silver platter, bitch. You better hop on that…like for real! That’s the kind of dick for freaky shit…lol. 

Y/N: You’re annoying. Yeah, he seems very sure of himself, like it’s almost intimidating. I feel like there’s no guessing. He hasn’t really pushed the sex thing. That part was just random. That was the first time we talked about it. Do you think I’m objectifying him by sending you that? Fuck, I just got excited.

Marie: Definitely, but only if you tell him you did it, and it sounds like he wants you! Omg! Now you have someone to try those pink fuzzy handcuffs with…the ones I bought you for Christmas. 

Y/N: Maybe…who knows? 

Marie: Maybe he was warning you, preparing you for what’s to cuuuummm! And that’s you, girl! 

Y/N: Jesus.

Marie: Just saying…

Y/N: I have to go! I’m about to grab some coffee. I hope his hot ass is working!! 

Marie: Maybe he’ll make you come a latte…

Y/N: I hate you! bye!

Marie: You love me, and I’m happy you finally have someone decent on your radar! I’m sure he adores you, and you’re just overthinking it. Just talk to him. Text me if you see him. I want to know everything! 

You saw him the second you walked into the coffee shop.

It only took you ten minutes to hype yourself up enough to walk inside, but here you were. 

In the midst of your pep talk, after you sorted through all the possible scenarios, you decided the best thing you could do was place a mobile order, that way if he wasn’t there, you could be in and out, but as soon as your eyes landed on the mobile counter, Harry, your boy wonder barista, was chatting up some cute blonde, her friend standing close by. 

You could relate to the friend, staring doe-eyed, a stargazed smile playing at her mouth, and as you watched, you imagined that if her long hair was freed from her high ponytail, she would be twirling the long strands around her finger, tossing it over her shoulder every time her friend laughed, or Harry’s eyes moved to hers. 

She had that desperate third-wheel energy, and although you knew the feeling, the second-hand embarrassment gutted you from across the room, your insides crawling up as you witnessed the blonde let out a screechingly high laugh, one that felt way too forced, almost halting you in place as you made your way over to the counter, and you tried not to make a face.

This wasn’t the first time you had noticed pretty stragglers, the girls that lingered a little too long, and being the owner of this shop, he had an effortless way of collecting them, you chalking it up to good customer service because he was always going to need the business. You knew you could never be mad about this part because it was part of his livelihood. 

Especially when, as soon as you were in Harry’s line of sight, his eyes found yours, a broad smile spreading across that gorgeous face, and dammit, if you weren’t dying to follow through with whatever he may have been implying, the other night.

Because shit, when he sent you that pic, his rock-hard cock standing tall, and those fucking tattoos marking his v-cut. He had your head spinning. You weren’t even a dick pic, girl, and there you were drooling over the thought of that dick inside you, and honestly, you weren’t even sure why you asked for a picture in the first place—a dick is just a dick in your book, but there was something about just knowing, that horny thought tickling the back of your mind any time you saw him standing behind that coffee bar. 

The strange part was that you hadn’t even talked to him since. That was four days ago, and for some reason, you were too scared to speak to him. I guess there were other reasons: you had been busy with work, starting that new internship—more like a glorified assistant position—the first two days were long and grueling, and it gave you a few extra days to sit on the thought, but then you realized texting back would make it real, right? 

What kind of response was he expecting? 

It was late when he sent the picture, so it was understandable if you had fallen asleep, but you also weren’t sure if your not responding pivoted the vibe, and now there was only one way to find out.

Yes, you were, without a doubt, interested, but you had been out of the dating game for a while; you couldn’t even remember the last time you had sex. It would be nice; he could definitely break you in, clear the cobwebs, pick you up, and dust you off because a toy can only do so much, and lately, you’ve only been taking it out on special occasions…whatever that means.

And let’s be real; you’ve been doing anything to justify your barren behavior. 

Who even needs a special occasion to get off? What were you turning into? You were getting way too comfortable in your independent ways, and while that’s great for most, it was okay to loosen the reigns every once in a while and get your metaphorical “dick sucked” because you deserved it; you deserved this, and as you reach the counter, Harry is pulling your drink toward him, a sly smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, while the blonde talks at him. 

“Unfortunately, I have very little free time these days, but I can definitely ask the crew if they’re interested in any…was it Pilates classes?” He asks the blonde as her flirty smile falters ever so slightly, almost giving herself away, and your eyes move back to your drink, now clasped in his hand on the counter.

“Here, why don’t I get your number…I can, like, send you the info or something…” and you have to admit, it was smooth, the perfect segway to land the cute coffee shop owner’s number. 

Then your eyes flick to Harry, who’s patting his pockets, searching for his phone, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head, “You know what? I don’t have my phone…”

And just when you think he’s distracted, you reach forward across the counter, ready to swipe your drink and run, but he’s quick, strangely aware of your presence, and he snatches up the drink, a smile on his face as he says, “Maybe Jen at the register has a pen and paper you can write it down…” 

Then his eyes sweep to yours, sending you a wink—a fucking wink, and you have to stop your jaw from dropping because as soon as the blonde picks up on the interaction, she scoffs under her breath and looks over at her friend.

“Hi…” He says, giving you his full attention, and from the corner of your eye, you can see the blonde standing there dumbfounded, maybe rarely getting rejected because you can definitely tell that’s a pilates body, the perfect canvas for her matching Lululemon set, and when her friend tugs on her arm, you bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile.

“I’m here to pick up a mobile order…” you tell him, fainting innocence because, after all, you were the one that never texted him back.

Harry looks down at the drink in his hand, “Hmmm…did you order a grande London Fog with oat milk, no vanilla, sub brown sugar…” and Jesus, the way he says sugar makes you want to lick your lips, the word glazing over his tongue; that British drawl never getting old.

“Embarrassingly enough, yes…but it sounds ridiculous when it’s said out loud like that, shhhhh….” you say, reaching for your drink, but he only pulls it further out of reach. He’s in a playful mood this morning, and you can tell he’s not holding a grudge for your sudden onset of silence 

Because it was kind of sudden.

After you ran into each other at that John Mayer concert, the one your sister forced you to go to—You only remembered a few of his songs from childhood, the ones your sister played to death, so you spent that night drinking, pregaming before the show, you know, being a supportive sister until her boyfriend decided to come at the last minute, making you the tag along.

As soon as the music started playing, it wasn’t that bad. The whole set was acoustic, his smooth voice echoing off the stone mountains, the weather perfect as the stars twinkled above, and really, it was the perfect concert to sit cozied up to your boyfriend so you couldn’t be too mad at your sister because it was nice seeing her this happy. So, when you snuck away to use the bathroom, you weren’t expecting to run into your favorite hot barista, and what are the odds that he would be alone? 

He was standing in line for a drink, and you were just tipsy enough to follow through with a, “Oh hey…Harry, right?” like an idiot because you definitely didn’t know him like that, and surely it was weird on your part, approaching him like you had ever formally introduced yourself. 

Every transaction you guys have ever had was him being friendly because it was his job, right? Like for example, you knew his name only because he wore a name tag, not because you’ve ever taken the time to ask him, and maybe he’s asked you a few questions here and there, but you had seen him do that plenty of times, whether you were waiting in line or sitting in the cafe before you finished school, you know, a friendly shop owner trying to get business and that’s what you thought, but then he called you by name, and this was new because you couldn’t remember if you had actually heard him say it directly to you—you would have remembered the way it fell from his perfect lips as you watched his dimples dip into his cheeks.

And once you got over the initial shock of him knowing your name, him clearing the air, trying to play it down, telling you he sees a lot of regulars out and about, you said, “I guess I thought I flew under the radar…” which was silly, because what the fuck did you mean by that and what did you know about planes, then he laughed and told you:

“I’ve definitely noticed you on many occasions…” As a clever smile turned up the corners of his mouth, you felt it: the heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks warming as his eyes swept over your face, stealing your focus, and it was sudden, his effect as the noise began to fade—a head rush—then the world started slowing down around you, your heart echoing in your ears. When he smiled, he licked his lips, and you watched as that smile spread into a knowing grin, and just like that, you were hooked, like magnets, for the rest of the night.

Then, somehow, it was all smooth sailing, and that’s the part that gets you later when you look back on that night. It was like a miracle from the fucking universe because what were the chances—and when he offered to buy you a drink, and you found out he was there by himself, you felt brave enough to ask if he wanted to join you because fuck being the third wheel when you had a chance to chat up the hot-ass coffee shop owner. 

You couldn’t believe your luck. How many times did Harry lean over and whisper in your ear? His deep voice like velvet brushing down your spine, and each time, Harry inched closer and closer until you were shoulder to shoulder. With every movement he made, you felt him—hyper-aware of everything, all the little details as John Mayer practically set the mood, him ending the concert with ‘Your Body Is A Wonderland,’ and thank the fucking stars up above because, dammit, if that song hasn’t become Harry’s theme song in your head because nothing else will do because now you would have that moment forever, floating across your memory.

When Harry politely placed his hand on your knee, whispering, “We should exchange numbers….” as John said his thanks, wishing everyone a good night, you sat there wishing you could end this night with Harry’s lips on yours.

Maybe in another universe, Harry would have kissed you goodnight, but you were with your sister, and you had already made plans with her. So when your sister tried to play matchmaker and invite him to join you guys after, he graciously declined, telling you guys he had to open in the morning, and that’s when you realized you were actually okay with his not joining. You needed time to digest this evening, mull it over until it was real, and as you floated still on a high from the evening to the car, there you were, sending him a text just before your phone died.

That night, as you crawled into bed hours later, still riding that same high. Harry’s face was fresh in your mind, familiar but in a new light. 

All you could think about were those fleeting moments when you guys traded phones—Both of you entering each other’s numbers as you stole a quick glance at Harry’s shakey fingers, typing away at your keyboard—There was something so vulnerable about the idea of your phone being in his hands, of you holding his, an act of trust right off the bat, you thought as you plugged in your phone— a hazy daydream of Harry’s fingers playing out, picturing his yellow nails, each one marked with a happy face, and it’s exactly how you felt, how he made you feel.

Because how did it happen? And when your phone came back to life, there was his name, Harry Styles, a message setting the tone for all the weeks to follow:

H: Hi, Sorry! I’m passing out soon. The dreadful opening shift is killing me this week. I’m really glad we ran into each other. Kind of crazy, but I’ve been trying to think of ways to get your number for a while. I hope that’s not weird or anything. Thanks for letting me crash your evening with your family. You were definitely a pleasant surprise. See you around.

Fast forward several weeks, and here he was, standing before you, once a stranger but still one of the sexiest guys you had ever seen because, let’s not pretend like you haven’t been eyeing him ever since you started coming to this coffee shop.

 Now, there were numerous possibilities—the looming thought of him being inside you, hanging over your heads, added static building between you, and yes, his flirting right now is solidifying the deal for you because he wants you. You can see it in his eyes, the electricity coursing through your veins when they flit to your mouth, and then he says:

“I was getting worried…I haven’t heard from you,” and he smirks nonchalantly reading the label of your drink as your eyes sweep over his face. 

His playfulness simmers into that casual, relaxed demeanor you’ve grown so fond of, and you can’t help but smile, your body warming at the thought of that last message, the image flashing across your vision, but there’s something different about the interaction, the thought of him more intimate because now you had the pleasure of piecing together more details, more things about himself that he’s revealed, and let you kept, collecting bits of Harry that only make you like him more.

“I’m sorry, I started that internship…it was crazy the first few days…” you tell him.

“Oh yeah, I was wondering how that was going…” and this makes you smile. His attentiveness, his genuine curiosity about your life because he really did seem interested this whole time, from the very beginning. 

“I was hoping I didn’t scare you off—”

“Mmmm…” you nod, getting lost in a trance, his words like a switch, igniting that little flame within. He has a way of sucking you in, making you feel like you’re the only person in the room, the way he holds your gaze, never flinching, never shying away.

“Yeah?” He nudges, a curious look pulling between his brows.

You clamor a nervous laugh, the sound making you stumble over your words, “Yeah—I mean—no—no…not scared…I mean, no, you didn’t scare me off…”

“Not scared…” he laughs

And you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head, as a smile spreads across your face, “Yeah…whatever that means…” you laugh, this time taking control of your reaction because shit, you are giving yourself away, and it’s no wonder you didn’t text him back because you can’t even keep it together enough to form the right words, let alone a sentence for that matter.

“Mmmmm….” he hums, that sly grin back in full swing, and you don’t even want that hot drink anymore because it’s fucking roasting in here, and you hope with all your might that he’s not picking up on your embarrassment, but then he says:

“Did you want a water?”

“A water?” you repeat confused.

“Yeah, you usually get a water…you seem thirsty this morning—”

“Thirsty?” you question, caught up in that smile.

“Yeah, do you want extra ice, maybe cool you down a little bit?”

This is when you finally catch on to his joke, “I think I have to go and never come back, “ you say, turning away slightly.

“No—no—no—no—no—no” He laughs, reaching over the counter to grab your arm, and you feel the blush creeping further, setting your whole body on fire. “I’m just joking… you’re cute when you blush….”

“Oh really? Because now I think I want to die,” you force, hitching your thumb toward the door as he releases your arm.

Harry shakes his head, that smile even more persistent, “I’m only teasing…here…” he says, pushing your drink forward, “I promise I won’t poke anymore fun…” and just as the words fall from his mouth, a random girl walks up, grabbing her drink, her eyes trained on Harry, smiling over to get his attention, but his eyes never leave your face. 

All you want to do is climb onto this counter and let him take you right then and there—let him claim you, make you his, pray that you’re his one and only because every time you see him, that want, that need to have him. Buries itself deeper inside you—each new day, every new detail only makes you like him more.

“Would you want to come over tonight?” Harry asks, catching you off guard, the question tripping you up again.

“Oh, my roommate is having people over tonight, so I can’t host…” you tell him, unaware that you heard the question wrong because this would be the first time you guys hung out alone, without the safety of a crowded bar or the public eye of his coffee shop.

“No—” he laughs, thoroughly entertained by you this morning, “Would you like to come to mine? I don’t mind hosting…maybe watch a movie or something…”

Or something…you think, something wild, your thoughts spinning as you nod your head up and down, words suddenly hard.

“So is that a yeah?” he pokes.

“Yeah—yeah—yeah—” you confirm, still nodding, “Yup, that sounds good…that sounds really good…” 

And you’re kicking yourself for that last bit, “Really good, huh?” he repeats, really driving it home.

“God, I have to go…” and you fucking giggle like a little schoolgirl, “I think I need caffeine or something…” you tell him backing away.

He chuckles, his eyes dropping to the drink in your hand. “I steamed it extra hot this morning…” 

“Thank you! I—” you tell him, your tone rising as you turn away because you almost walked right into that one, and just as you’re about to push through the door, Harry shouts, “I’ll text you…” and then you’re through the door, gasping in a breath, the cold air filling your lungs; a soothing relief. There is no way you can look back, and as you slide into the driver seat, your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and you lift your ass in your seat and peer down at the screen, swiping it open:

H: I’m looking forward to tonight. I’ll start thinking of movie options. Let me know what you think you might be hungry for, and I’ll order food.”

If this had been a weekday, you would have called in. You would have risked the internship because this was monumental—You were going to Harry’s place—This was bound to be a turning point, a change in scenery for you both, more personal, shifting the mood from friendly to possibly sexy, and this you had to prepare for.

You waited until you got home to text him back. 

You didn’t want to come off as too excited; you wanted to play it cool. I guess, yes, you could have texted him back right then and there, but why not leave some mystery? You already knew you wanted Chinese food; that was a no-brainer, but when he texted you and told you his internet was down. He asked if you had any DVDs, and this made you laugh. You had only kept a few random movies over the years stowed away in a box in your closet, a sparse collection curated specifically for you, especially not for a hot dude you were trying to get with.

And when you pulled your old box of belongings from the dusty top shelf, you laughed the second you opened it. There, sitting on top, were three random DVDs—you were beside yourself because now you were questioning your younger self, wondering why the fuck you would keep any of these movies, store them away like prized gold.

Okay, maybe there was something about the movie ‘Twilight’ that was worth keeping. You could understand that, and as you pulled it from the box, your eyes swept over the cover. You thought about the kind of vibe it would set, and it seemed like a movie you’d make your boyfriend watch when you just wanted a movie to cozy up together, something you knew he would never enjoy but would watch for you because he loved you. Maybe it would be okay if you both had seen it, but if Harry hadn’t seen it. This wasn’t the time, so you placed it on the floor next to you, making it an option.

When you pulled ‘The Notebook’ out, the cover Ryan Gosling and Rachel Mcadams about to embrace in a passionate kiss, you literally laughed out loud because there was no way in hell you wanted to watch this movie with him. It was way too soon. What message would you be sending if you chose that one, maybe you were overthinking this all, but hell, this was a big deal, and you wanted it all to go smoothly. You didn’t want to imply too much this early on, but at the same time, the more you thought about it, the more you thought that you could actually see this going somewhere, and maybe it wasn’t just the sex you wanted—it was him.

Everything about him screamed—interested.

It didn’t seem like a facade to get you into bed because if that were the case, you think he would have already acted on it; something about the pace of your interactions meant more than a hookup. 

You found his genuine curiosity in you endearing, the biggest turn on in a very long time, and if sex came cool—He was already “fucking” your brain with his authenticity because if you really broke it down. None of the boys that have popped up in the last couple of months were ever worth your time. You had been waiting around for a man—a real man, to swoop in, a man that was sure of himself, that had his shit together, that was interested in more than just a casual hook-up because you were over that bullshit, over the feeling of being disposable in somebody else’s roster. 

And while you weren’t fully sure of Harry’s intentions, you bet if you asked, he would tell you. 

He was busy. He had a business to run, for heaven’s sake, and something told you he didn’t have a lot of time to fuck around, like when he told that pilates instructor he was busy, there was definitely some truth in that. You could tell he was organized with his time by the way he made plans—each hang out thoughtfully procured with your time at the forefront, never flaking or making excuses, never changing the plans at the last minute.

In fact, everything about him so far was a major turn on, and as you skimmed through your underwear drawer, trying to piece together a matching set because you could be a grown-up too, you laughed, your eyes flick over to the third movie laid out across your floor—Juno

That was the one.

That would be the perfect movie. You couldn’t even remember the last time you watched it, at least not as an adult. So you did the polite thing and sent him a picture, the movies lined up in a neat row, and as you sent the picture, you internally wished that he would choose Juno like maybe that would be the universe’s way of saying, “Yeah…you’re on the same page…this ones a keeper…”

H: We should talk about your movie collection later…but without a doubt, Juno for me…but I wouldn’t be opposed to The Notebook either…I’ll let you pick.

You laugh, falling back onto your bed, watching those tiny little dots move at the bottom of the screen.

H: Also, I’m going comfy vibes, like sweatpants and t-shirt kind of night, just a heads up.

Then you’re kicking your feet, that inner school girl rising up again, and now you’re fucking obsessing over this guy, over the fact that he just gets it, like somehow he’s becoming the complete package, like all those late-nights thinking about him was finally starting to pay off.

H: Ordering the food now, see you soon! 

You send him a text, leap off the bed and rush to finish getting dressed; that picture of his dick in the foyer of your mind, and you squeeze your thighs together at the thought, already horny with the idea of just walking through his door, the idea of sitting on the same couch and it’s like you’re a teenager all over again, dying to makeout until your lips are chapped, rub your body against his until the friction has you wet until his hands are roaming your body, needy to explore every inch of you.

This is what you’re thinking as you wait for him to open the door, your heart thudding away in your chest. When you hear the click of the knob and the door creaks open, your stomach twists with butterflies, the flutter seizing your whole body as he reaches out to embrace you in a hug, but your hands are full, and you can only lean into his side, a half-ass hug as he starts collecting each item, kicking the door closed behind you.

“Glad you found it okay,” Harry tosses over his shoulder as you follow him into the living room.

Harry sets your stuff down on the coffee table just as the doorbell chimes, “Ah, that must be the food, be right back, just make yourself at home…” He smiles, his eyes searching your face, and you hope you’re not coming off too nervous because, let’s face it, this is intimidating as fuck. 

You figured he had his shit together, but his place was amazing, eclectic yet put together like he actually paid full price for his couch, probably brand new—a large fluffy L-shape—you couldn’t help but flop down onto the cushion, exhaling all your self-doubt because what’s the worst that could happen, you think as your eyes flit shut, sinking into the feeling of comfort. 

“I’m going to grab some dishes,” he says, stirring you from your thoughts, and you open your eyes as he releases the sack of food, the boxes making a dull thud as they hit the table.

You push yourself up with a smile, him catching you in the middle of testing out his sofa, “Comfy couch,” you tell him, clearing your throat. 

He laughs, “It really is. If I fall asleep during the movie, you’ll have to wake me.”

“I was literally just thinking the same thing. I drank coffee before I came, so—”

He runs a hand through his hair, “I honestly did the same…I didn’t want to leave a bad impression. I’m notorious for falling asleep early.”

You laugh then, “Well if I had to get up at the ass crack of dawn to open a coffee shop, I would never have a social life.” 

“My social life is barely functioning…trust me….” He tells you, “I’ll be back in just a second. Are you good with chopsticks, or would you like a fork?” 

“Chopsticks are great, thank you.” You grin, your cheeks squishing into a wide smile.

“What?” he asks, matching your smile.

“Nothing…nothing…I’ll set up the movie,” you offer, needing to look away, needing to look anywhere else because he is so fucking cute, and those sweatpants are so hot on him, hugging the bulge you know is there, and if you stare too long you might start undressing him.

“That would be perfect, thank you.” and his manners make you smile even more as you stand to your feet, slipping your shoes off to get cozy. 

The movie is set, and when he sees the opening menu of Juno, he laughs as the old wood floors creak under his soft footfalls. His presence fills the room in a matter of seconds, drawing you back to the moment, making you all too aware that this is real when he sits closer than you expected, his elbow softly grazing yours, and you can’t seem to find any words, your heart racing, maybe second-guessing if you’re actually ready for this, and really this is just you guys watching a movie. 

You know it doesn’t have to be anything else, but then there’s the desperate side of you, the side that wants to explore every option because there is something about him that feels safe and open to every prospect.

Getting past the eating part was fine, and as you guys cozied up with your plates and the movie began, it wasn’t even strange that the opening scene was a mild sex scene because you were both adults, and honestly, it was barely a sex scene, mostly implied, kind of like this night with Harry.

It was when the eating was done, all the niceties out of the way. 

There was still an hour of the movie left, the room dark now, only the soft glow of the television casting light over you both. Harry’s knee was casually pressed against yours as the both of you sat cross-legged on the couch. Every time he moved even the slightest, your eyes would drop to your knee, a low hum buzzing up your thigh, and as soon as you brought any attention to the touch in your mind, that feeling of want pulled between your legs, making you suck in a slow, silent breath through your nose, you reminding yourself to breathe, trying not to draw any attention to yourself.

Eventually, you relaxed enough to sink into the movie— overly focused on the screen—even when Harry stretched his legs out and slid further down on the couch cushion, his arm stretching across the pillow behind your head. You didn’t even move. You just sat there so quietly and so still, nearly holding your breath, and maybe he must have picked up on this because then he was pausing the movie, suggesting a bathroom break.

And the second he walked out of the room, you felt your whole body decompress, and you filled your lungs with as much oxygen as you could, gulping in air like the second he walked back in the room, he would steal the very air you were breathing. 

Why were you still nervous? 

He hadn’t tried anything, he wasn’t being weird or hinting at anything, no hidden expectations floating to the surface because you guys really were just hanging out, but that still didn’t make it feel any easier. Before he left the room, you could feel the tension straining in your shoulders as you sat there, your muscles burning from your rigid posture—you needed to chill; you were the one that needed to get your shit together. 

When you heard his footsteps, you shot up from the couch like a fucking weirdo, almost losing your footing, but you caught yourself before you could fall, a nervous laugh slipping past your lips, and by the way, your face was already starting to burn, you were glad it was too dark to see the flush rising to your cheeks.

“All good?” He asks, a slow smile spreading as his brows knit together.

You nod, forcing an odd laugh, “Is the bathroom that way?” you point in the direction he just came from, and you barely catch his nod as you take the long way around the couch, avoiding any chance of touching or his body brushing yours because it’s obvious you’re being a fucking chicken, because there’s no way a grown man was inviting you over to just watch a movie.

 As you shut the door behind you, you exhale, realizing you were holding your breath that entire walk to the bathroom, and then you can’t fill your lungs quick enough as the anxious thoughts rise within, suffocating you, your anxiety trying to get the best of you. 

You can do this. 

Everything is okay, you are capable of communicating, you could march in there and just talk, you could ask what the deal is, what it is that he’s looking for because if it’s just to fuck, that is doable that part feels like a piece of cake, you would love to get off, but this was more, you can feel it in your bones, there was knowingly something different about him, and it scared the shit out of you.

And while you wash your hands, you try and avoid the mirror, avoiding your eyes, because you know what they would convey, and you already felt cowardly enough. 

So, of course, when you walk back into the living room again, you take the long way, not daring to look at Harry. Then you take your spot back next to him without a word, feeling his eyes on you, your body tensing up, and as you stare at the screen waiting for him to unpause the movie, he doesn’t. 

That’s when you chance a glance over at him, his eyes roam over your face, and then he leans past you to turn on the lamp as you hold your breath, the scent of him lingering in your nose as he settles back onto the cushion, this time facing you, and you look over and try and give him a corky smile, but you know it looks strange because the muscles in your cheeks keep twitching.

God, this is embarrassing, you think, and Harry clears his throat, “Umm…is it cool if we clear the air?”

And without a word, you nod, forcing yourself to face him, sitting up straight because you got this, you can do this, get this part over.

“I guess I just wanted to be clear about…I guess my intentions…I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve dated anyone…and I guess I’m feeling a little rusty. If that makes sense?” He explains, making your heart pick up. 

“Yeah…same,” you mutter, your throat tight, and you swallow down hard.

“I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate this all…you know, like…I don’t know. I really like you, and I was hoping we could like—” 

“What? Have sex—?” You blurt, making him gasp out a laugh, and really, you just wanted to cut right to the chase and figure out what your next move needed to be.

He looks nervous, a funny smile spreading across his face as he runs a hand up the back of his head, “I mean—” and he laughs, his nerves visibly getting the best of him, and this makes you smile because you definitely just jumped the gun.

“Is that what you’re wanting?” he asks, looking down at his hands, “I guess I’m trying to figure out what you’re looking for—” He starts

“To be completely transparent, I’m sort of looking for something a little more serious…I mean, sex is great, but—”

You jump in then, “No—yeah, the other…” you clear your throat, “Like something serious…I’m sorry, but you make me so fucking nervous…”

“Am I being too forward?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

And you laugh, “No, I just think I really like you, and it’s just…been a while, you know? It’s also been a while since I’ve dated anyone…or I guess…like had sex…”

“Mmmm…” he hums, and then he laughs, “Not to push the sex narrative, but it has been a while for me, as well….like maybe a year or so. I don’t know. I stopped keeping track. I’ve been really busy with work, and I wasn’t really looking for anything, and then I saw you at the concert…”

Your eyes search his face then, but you know he’s telling you the truth, “So…like, how serious are you thinking? Like someone to exclusively hook up with? Fit into your busy schedule? What are you looking for? I would rather be on the same page.”

“Like dating…like a girlfriend…like maybe this could be something that moves further…”

And for some reason, you narrow your eyes at him, cocking your head to the side, “With me?” you question. 

Harry laughs again, “Well…yeah, you silly.”

Then you had to back up the conversation, “So the other night when you sent me that picture, it wasn’t for the sake of a hook-up?”

“I mean, I’m interested in hooking up, but it doesn’t have to be right now…I don’t know, I guess I just wanted you to know I was interested…” Then he laughs, his eyes shying away from you again, “Like I said, I’m rusty. Was that a weird thing to do? It’s been a while since I’ve done that…actually, I’ve only done that one other time…so—”

“I did ask for it…” you clarified, grabbing his attention.

“Yeah…I guess you did.” Then his eyes drop to your mouth.

And now you’re feeling bold, “I’m very interested…” and when your eyes dart away from his, you feel your face growing hot, laughing to yourself as you contemplate the conversation because you didn’t see it coming, but there was a piece of you that was glad it was happening, maybe even a piece of you realizing you may have a communication kink because you’re definitely getting turned on the clearer his intentions get and when he asks:

“What are you thinking?” That’s when you look over and smile, watching his smile spread across those perfect lips of his, and you bite down on your lower lip, deciding which dirty thought to divulge because there might be too many to choose just one.

Then you bite your lip harder, trying to suppress your smile, but it’s no use, and you say, “I mean…we can wait as long as you want to explore the physical side, but I’m down whenever you are…like so down…” 

This cracks him up, “So, just like whenever?” 

And you match his laughter, falling back against the couch pillows, “I might let you make me Ju—no—” and you can’t even say it with a straight face as you both burst into laughter, all the tension seeming to go with it, and it’s like the room is brighter, the air lighter around you as you suck in a hard breath, almost choking on your own laugh. 

“I’m actually on birth control…so the Juno thing might be out the window,” you tell him, placing a hand on his knee. You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t even realize it. Then he’s resting his hand on yours, smiling over at you. 

That’s when you feel the pad of his thumb moving back and forth over the top of your hand, and you look down, “Hypothetically speaking…” he says, squeezing your hand, and your heart leaps in your throat as you begin to grip his hand. 

“If I were to ask you if you wanted to stay the night one day… would you be down with that?” Then he grips your hand back, and you loosen your hold, laughing because you keep giving yourself away.

“Honestly? You ask.

And he nods, that cute smile stretching, his dimples sinking into his cheeks, “Can we just like get the first hook-up out of the way…because if I wait any longer, I might psych myself out”

“Fuck…” he breathes, “Yes—I feel the same way…like right here? Or in my bed?” he forces, relief washing over his features, a new air of excitement filling the room.

“Oh…did you want to finish the movie?” he adds right before you tell him:

“Fuck no—” laughing as you squeeze his hand again. 

“You look like someone who would have a comfortable bed…” you tell him, standing to your feet.

Harry rises with you, still holding your hand. “My rooms upstairs—” he says, his eyes flicking to the stairs through the archway.

“Okay…?” he questions, his eyes scanning your face for any hesitation.

“Yes—” you nod as he begins to pull you toward the stairs.

As soon as you reach the landing at the top of the stairs, he turns around, laughing, “Wait—you said I look like someone who has a comfortable bed?”

“Is that really what you’re thinking about…? You laugh.

He shrugs like he’s stalling, or maybe he’s nervous, “I mean… among other things…”

“Harry, are you nervous?” you ask, squeezing his hand again, and honestly, you’re hoping that he says yes because you’re not sure how this is going to go down, but you’ve been horny for him long before he sent you that photo, so you don’t really care about the details; you just want him inside you as soon as possible. 

“Honestly…I don’t think I’ll last long. I just thought I would warn you…”

You smile then, lifting your hand to stroke his cheek, “Then we’re both in the same boat…we’ll just say the first time doesn’t count. Deal?” 

“Deal, “ he says, letting out a light laugh. You stand there, taking in his face. A boyish grin setting in, about to push you to the edge, and you practically leap to the tips of your toes, pushing your mouth to his.

At first, he’s stunned, but once you begin to move your mouth, he grabs hold of your face, taking a step back. When he takes another, you break the kiss, excitement coursing through you, and you peek over his shoulder, wondering which door leads to his bedroom. When he realizes what you’re doing, he grabs your hand and pulls you toward the end of the hall, pushes through the door, and it smacks against the wall as Harry tugs you through the doorway.

The first thing you do is grab hold of his shirt, his picture flashing across your vision. 

You have to see those tattoos in person, and when you begin to pull at the hem, he takes your cue and lifts it over his head. Now you’re the one who’s stunned as a whole series of tattoos come into view, halting you in place. Then your eyes are feasting over the plains of his body, the muscles, the random array of tattoos—since when did coffee shop owners look this fucking hot? Like, what did he do before this? But then you’re driving these thoughts away, your hands already moving over his skin—a palm brushing flat over the butterfly at the center of his chest, and it’s almost too much.

You drop to your knees, at eye level, with the leaves inked into his lower abdomen, and you lick your lips, grabbing hold of his waist, a light touch tracing along one side with the tips of your fingers. “Jesus,” you breathe as the leaves disappear into the band of his sweatpants. Before your eyes move any further, you gaze up at Harry. His eyes are trained on you, a lazy smile spreading on his face, and then he laughs.

“If you put those lips around my dick, I swear I’ll only last two seconds. Your touch has already got me so close…” He tells you, bending at the waist to lift your chin, and when he plants his lips to yours, you breathe him in, working yourself back to standing, your mouth never leaving his.

You pull away from the kiss, pressing your hand flat against his chest, needy, pushing him toward the bed, “I could probably get off just by looking at you…” and you both laugh at this, but you’re serious. 

Everything about him is working you up, and now you’re so turned on that you feel yourself opening for him, your pussy throbbing the entire time you bound up the stairs.

Harry stumbles back onto the bed, sitting at the edge, and brings you between his legs. When he gives your shirt a playful tug, you lift your arms, giving him permission, and he yanks it up, up, up until he’s standing, pulling until you feel the collar of your shirt wisp over the tips of your fingers, then he tosses it to the ground with a smirk on his face—your red lacy bra on full display in the low light of the moon, casting silver light through the window.

When he sits back down on the bed, he draws you toward him again, his hands on your waist, gripping the meat of flesh, a hunger rising up as he buries his face into the hallow between your breast, and when you run your hands through his hair, Harry lets out a soft groan, a puff of heat fanning over your skin, and you bring your face down to the crown of his head, breathing in the smell of his hair. 

Harry’s hand moves from your waist to the clasp

of your bra, fidgeting with the hook as he nibbles the tip of your hard nipples through your bra. All you can do is watch, a chill running up your spine, a rush surging through you as soon as your bra comes off, and this is happening, this is real, and when Harry looks up and smiles at you, you need him inside of you—now.

Desperate for it, desperate for him.

You were ready, that consistent ache between your legs tugging at the pit of your stomach. You wanted him fast and deep; you wanted him to open you up, stretch you so that you would remember, a sore reminder later, a feeling that he was there—leave you reeling, craving more—crave him as you crave him now, like a sweet tooth, one bite never enough.

“Now—” you force, “Now—I need it now,” you tell him, your hands on his shoulder, moving down his chest as you’re pushing him back, and Harry laughs, his body following your command, the muscles in his stomach flexing and relaxing as he lays back on the bed. 

Then your eyes are drifting down, his grey sweatpants marking the outline of his dick, and it’s joy, pure joy, that giddy feeling tightening your chest, adrenaline shakey at the tips of your fingers as you reach for the elastic waist of his pants. 

“I’m so fucking turned on—” he mutters, the words flying out of his mouth, your hands colliding as he helps you ease the pants down, his boxers coming with, catching on his thighs, his dick seconds away from springing free, and harry lifts his legs as you rip off his pants, tossing them across the room with such force, that you can’t help but laugh as Harry’s eyes follow, the pants knocking a picture off the wall, and the frame comes crashing down to the floor with a smash, the sounds of glass shattering fills the room, and Harry doesn’t even flinch because he’s grabbing your face before you can even see the damage. 

Harry stands to his feet, one goal in mind, and that was to get you naked, “Still good?” he asks, but you’re too distracted, his rock-hard cock bobbing between the two of you, and when he laughs, it pulses a slight bounce, and it’s like striking gold, your eyes wide, lit with curiosity, every ounce of excitement you felt before hurrying to your needy hands as you reach for his penis, wrapping your hand around his girth, a gasp slipping past your lips as his warmth seeps into the palm of your hand.

The thought was enough before, but the feeling of him in your hand is even better, drawing that hunger to the surface, your mouth watering, and you swallow hard as you rip your eyes away from the dick filling your hand. When you meet Harry’s eyes, you both smile, sharing a knowing look as you nod your head, a late response bubbling up, and then you lick your lips, smoothing them together, contemplating whether or not you’re going to drop back down to your knees, and then you say:

“I need you inside me—” gliding your hand down his shaft as Harry sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, the quick sensation of pleasure too much for you both, and he stops your hand mid stroke, his jaw clenching as he squeezes his eyes shut, and when his head falls back, lips parting—You’re losing it. 

Without thought, your crawling back onto the bed, pulling at the waistband of your yoga pants, too fucking tight for this situation because it’s taking too long, every movement bringing awareness to your wet pussy, the cold air grazing over your newly exposed skin. Then Harry is helping you tear them past your ass, lifting your hips as his knuckles drag down your legs with the rough effort of ripping them past your ankles.

 Never again, you think, never again will you waste time with such a useless fabric as you bring your hand between your thighs, smearing the wetness building within you up your slit, readying yourself. Watching Harry’s mouth gape open when you spread your legs, and god, you are so fucking wet, so fucking horny that you think you’ll explode, and as Harry strokes his dick, his hand moving up and down, you dip your fingers inside, slowly pushing them in, only enough to slick your entrance, then out, and in again, so smooth, open, begging to be filled, to be stretched.

When Harry presses a knee into the edge of the bed, you pull your wet fingers from inside you, making Harry smile. 

He drops his dick as he climbs onto the bed next to you, him watching as you suck your fingers into your mouth, eliciting a small moan from Harry as he grabs hold of your wrist, your fingers slipping out of your mouth with ease, then Harry is making them his the moment they enter his mouth, his tongue moving over your fingers, then you feel the suction, feel the vibration at the back of his throat when he groans, satisfaction loosening his tight-knit brows.

You can’t take it; that’s when you’re pulling your fingers from his mouth, pushing him back onto the bed, and climbing on top, in one swift movement, “Is this okay?” you ask, the thought of asking barely at the forefront of your mind, and when he grabs your hips to line you up, lifting himself to adjust you both, the answer is evident in the movements because he’s just as desperate, just as needy. 

“Is this how you want it?” he asks, and you nod your head, feeling shy suddenly, heat creeping into your cheeks—the exchange of words slowing things down enough to put things into perspective in just a matter of seconds.

“This is good…” you answer, on the verge of second-guessing yourself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” you breathe, straightening your spine, your body relaxing slightly, nervous, but the look on Harry’s face is reassuring you, something telling you he wouldn’t take advantage of the situation.

“Will you tell me if you want to change positions if this is too much…” And he smiles then, a playful smirk as you lean forward, and you press your hand into the bed, next to his head. Your face inches from his. 

You laugh then, “I want it to be too much…” you tell him, confident in the fact that no matter what position, it’s going to hurt, so why not have control? 

Besides, you wanted to watch him come undone, be the reason he’s calling your name.

“Dammit… you’re dangerous…” he laughs, his tone low, a silky rasp in your ear, as you drop your mouth to his neck, pressing your lips to his soft skin, breathing him in as your free hand navigates his dick to your opening, the stretch immediate as his tip dips in, and your breath, catches as you shove him inside you. Amazed by the force it takes just to inch him in the smallest amount as Harry exhales a heavy breath into your neck, and holy shit, your lack of sex is finally catching up, you think as you push yourself up, your face hovering over his.

“Fuck—” you breathe with a smile, trying not to laugh, and your eyes sweep over his face, your brain taking mental notes of every look of pleasure that has stolen Harry’s features, saving them for later. 

“We can go slow?” he says, leaning up to grab hold of your face, a harsh breath leaving your mouth as he presses his lips to yours, his dick inching further in with every movement.

You pull away from the kiss, teetering on pain’s edge as you rest your forehead against his, “Just push into me…” you whisper, lifting your head to look him in the eyes.

“What?” He asks, confused, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Let’s just rip the bandaid off—” Then it’s happening. Harry gazes up at you; a moment of hesitation, then he grabs your hips and bucks himself deep inside you, the pain ricocheting through your teeth as you bit down hard, sealing your pained moan behind your lips, and you screw your eye shut, sinking your weight into your hips ceasing any further movement.

“…fuuuuuuuuuuck….” you whisper, your head spinning, dizzy with the thought of his cock buried inside you, like he’s splitting you open, carving out a space for himself. 

There was no going back after this because this is the kind of dick you dreamed of, the kind of dick you wanted to break you in, claim you, make you theirs, and even if there’s pain now, there’s bliss in the thought of knowing.

“Take your time…” he breathes, his voice a strained whisper, and you can tell this is just as painful for him, but in a different way, your walls gripping him tight, and as you release a breath, the pain begins to ease with the thought of exploring the onset of pleasure gradually taking way, the exploration a vice of its own, and it’s just enough.

And when you open your eyes, there he is, Harry, staring back at you, a look somewhere between concern and pleasure, because then you’re moving your hips, slow, getting used to the feeling of him inside you as Harry grips the meat of your hips, exhaling when you lean back down, to kiss his lips, a warm breath filling your mouth, and there’s the pleasure—you and Harry—chest to chest, two hearts beating as one—then he’s moving you guys along, planting his feet into the bed, and you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. 

Harry lifts his hips, grabs hold of your ass, and pushes into you, easing apart your ass cheeks just enough to open you up more, dipping deeper this time, repeating the motion until you’re bouncing up and down on his dick, both of you pushing moans in out of one another’s mouth, each one louder than before, the sensation overwhelming every sense of your body. 

Every thrust drives deeper as you feel your body begin to succumb to the pressure building, a knot tightening in your lower belly, and it’s this, this is what you wanted.

All of it. 

The sound of satisfaction echos around you, the squeak of the bed, the thud of the wooden headboard banging against the wall, both of your efforts playing in tandem, the push and pull—a give and taking until the both of you are forming a rhythm, two bodies playing out like a fucking symphony, every moving part a perfect balance. 

Then you’re crying out his name, pushing up on his chest until your palms are flush with his dewy skin, and when you lock eyes with his, you nod your head, tilting your hips back and forth, your movements growing desperate, faster, and when you say:

“I’m close,” Harry leans up and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you down hard, the friction slowing, each movement deeper and deeper.

“How close are you?” He forces

“I’m close—don’t stop…” you plead.

“Fuck…” He breathes, thrusting hard, “So good—”

“Don’t stop—” you beg. “Don’t you dare fucking stop—”

“I’m so close—” he groans, and you slam your hips down, seconds away; just seconds, that’s all you need.

“I’m gunna come…” you force, stealing your orgasm as you grind your hips into his pelvis, your knees stretching as wide as they can, the position limiting, but it’s just enough, and when Harry drives into you again, yelling out your name, it seals your fate, your whole body buckling, and you collapse, your pussy gripping his dick tighter, seizing around the contour of his hard cock as Harry bursts inside you, his pulsing dick the perfect ending as you ride out your orgasm.

And then you’re both catching your breath. Your bodies pressed together, the thud of his heartbeat racing across your lips, your face buried in the crook of his neck now as you nibble a soft bite into the pulse beating under his skin. Harry lets out a breathy laugh, cool air sweeping over your damp shoulder, and you don’t move, his dick still inside you, both of you unwilling to part. 

When you lift your head, taking in the sweaty glow of his face, you sweep a stray curl from his forehead as a soft smile spreads, his dimple dipping. “ Hi,” he whispers, his voice dripping like honey from his lips, and it’s so sweet, kindness emanating through every gentle touch, pouring out into the delicate kiss he plants on your lips as you bask in the afterglow of pleasure.

And it’s strange how quickly your mind just switched gears because now you want to beg for forever, have him hold you in his arms just like this, laugh, tell him he just marked his territory because there’s no going back, you think again, really meaning it, your mind in the dizzying aftermath of pure fucking bliss because now you want to make him fall in love, pray that this was a starting point, pick his brain, ask him what he’s thinking as your thoughts spiral.

All of this running through your mind as you deepen the kiss, Harry holding you tighter, then he breaks away, falling back onto the bed, his body relaxing as he crosses his arms behind his head, and then he smiles, face beaming, “Is it too early to think you may have just locked me down���hopefully you’re okay with that.” 

And really, the joke is on him because he doesn’t even know the half of it, so when you send him that sweet little smile, all you can do is laugh, thinking if he only knew, but I guess we’ll find out.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! Hope you enjoyed!

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[domuspeccati]

Day 13 : I Love This Place

Ft. Ahn Yujin

Kink : Stuck In Wall

“A little help!” Yujin shouts. She reaches for her phone, but it’s just out of reach. Not wanting to draw any more attention to herself, she waits to see if anyone offers any assistance. Yujin’s arms can only reach so far.

She sees her phone on the ground. As if it’s taunting her, it slides a little bit more out of arm’s reach. Yujin huffs and stands up. She tries her best to not get her legs tangled with anyone else’s on the way to her phone. “Excuse me,” Yujin says. She narrowly avoids one man’s foot, shifting to the side to step over it.

So far, her day hasn’t been too kind to her. Yujin has seen a drunk man harass a woman, she’s been bumped into, which made her drop her phone the first time, and she’s been stuck on this subway for the better part of half an hour.

Yujin, at long last, reaches her phone. She bends down to pick it up. “Gotcha,” she remarks under her breath. The girl clutches the phone and makes her way back to her seat. After hurdling the same pairs of feet from the spot where the phone rested back to the seat, Yujin sits down and breathes easier now that her phone is back in her possession.

The mobile device chirps. Yujin checks the message. “Oh great,” she mutters. “What could he possibly want?” Yujin reads the message mentally and a long sigh escapes her mouth. “I’m gonna be late,” the first message reads. “I know we have that project at work, but I can’t make it because traffic is a nightmare. I’ll try to be there as soon as possible. If you get there before me, work a little bit on it.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. The lethal combination of reactions would be enough to set anyone off. Knowing that she’s on a tight schedule, Yujin composes a message. “Okay then,” the first message reads. “I’m on my way right now. After I get there, I’ll cover for you.” Yujin sends the message and puts her phone back into her pocket.

Yujin sits patiently in her seat. Waiting for the stop where she gets off has never felt longer. She hopes that this ride will be over in the foreseeable future. She knows that this ride will only last a few more minutes, but to her, that’s an eternity.

The minutes pass in relative silence. Yujin listens to the occasional noises coming from the other passengers. Once the ride comes to a stop, she stands up and gathers her belongings. Yujin bows and apologizes for her outburst while heading for the exit. Once she’s at the exit, she leaves without a second thought.

The doors close behind her and she’s sent on her way. Yujin exits the station, walking up the stairs to ground level. She emerges onto street level and takes a brief look around. The area, which is practically engraved in her mind, makes the last leg of the journey easier.

She begins her walk to the office. Yujin keeps to herself, trying to balance it out after her outburst on the ride here. She tries to forget that instead focusing on the walk to her office. Yujin rounds the corner and this starts the longest straight walk of the entire day. No turns for the last few blocks, which definitely makes things a little easier on her.

Yujin tries to make her walk as easy as possible. The ride was emotionally taxing, so it still lingers in her mind. She tries to shake it, but her embarrassing moments always stick with her. “I need a drink,” she tells herself. “Or something.”

As she’s lost in her thoughts, Yujin bumps into a man. “Watch it!” You bark. Seeing that the girl meant no harm, you relax and open your mouth to speak again. “Looks like you’ve seen a fucking ghost. Speak.” You wait for a response and examine the girl who is dressed in formal attire.

She shakes her head. “I’m fine,” she tells you. “Really.” Yujin tries to walk around you, but you don’t budge. “I really do have somewhere to be. I have this thing at work that desperately needs to be done.”

You smile at her and nod understandingly. “Well, can I interest you in something?” you ask her. “A pretty girl like yourself surely has needs or something.”

Yujin clicks her tongue. “I’m gonna stop you right there.” She puts one hand on your chest and pushes you gently. “I have to get to work. Anything else can wait.” Yujin then removes her hand from your chest and walks past you. She doesn’t want anything else to get in the way today.

“You don’t understand.” You grab Yujin’s hand. “It’s not just a hookup.” Your hands pull her closer, begging her to listen to you. Seeming like you’re begging for her attention, you let Yujin’s hands go. “You look to be in need of a little stress relief and I’ve had a long night. We should make ends meet.”

She shakes her head. Thinking about it for a moment, Yujin doesn’t move a single muscle. She then shrugs and stares at you. “Well, I don’t see a problem with it,” she tells you. “It’s not the first hookup. Won’t be the last one either.”

You smile, pleased with yourself. “Right this way then,” you instruct her. As Yujin follows you, you lead her into a dark alley. Once you make it to the end of the alley, you point to a door on the right. “It’s in this building. Just stick close to me and we’ll make sure that you have an absolute blast.”

Yujin sees the smile on your face. She doesn’t normally trust people who lead her into secluded areas, but she makes an exception. “Could’ve been anyone.” Yujin looks up at you and says it again. “It could’ve been anyone. Why am I the girl who gets asked? There’s surely other women on that stretch of road who are in need of a little bit of stress relief.”

You nod. “There was one earlier.” Your admission makes her look even more confused. You then open the door and both of you walk in. The strong smell of sweat hits you. You can tell that the smell is a little much for Yujin. “You just look like you don’t get enough relief.”

She laughs. “I can’t deny that,” she confesses. Yujin’s eyes meet the eyes of another man. “It smells like a gym here. Why did it have to be here?” Her question hangs in the air.

“There’s a simple answer.” You usher Yujin into an available side room. “I like my clientele to be in similar businesses.” Once you’re in the room, you close the door behind her. “Go over to that wall there.”

Yujin laughs. “Are you kidding?” she asks you. Her eyes lock onto the hole in the wall. “Let me guess…” Yujin releases a deep sigh. “There’s another cock on that side of the wall.” Yujin removes her blazer. “I’m not a huge fan of being shared. That’s something that I leave to my colleagues.”

You run your fingers through Yujin’s hair. “That’s a great idea.” You walk over to the hole in the wall and peep through it. “There’s no one on the other side. Considering that’s where we keep lube for the anal freaks, I’d be surprised if anyone found comfort in that cramped space.”

As you step away from the wall, Yujin realizes that she has no choice other than to trust you. Yujin puts her blazer on the seat next to the hole. She then picks her bag up and places it on the blazer. The girl moves closer to the wall and bends down. Yujin sticks her head through the hole in the wall.

You get a good view of Yujin’s ass. The pants surely don’t do it justice. To make sure that everything is good to go, you grab her pants and yank them down to her knees. “Nice choice of panties,” you tell her as you grab them.

Yujin tries to look back at you but remembers that her head is through the wall. “I made sure that you’d like them,” she jokes. Once her panties are pulled down, she feels your hands on her bare asscheeks. Yujin moans softly and then realizes that you’re going to take full advantage of the situation.

Not caring about being late to work anymore is relieving for her. Yujin sighs, happy that she’ll soon get the relief that she needs. Yujin attempts to position herself, but she realizes that you are holding her in place.

“The lucky man gets to decide,” you tell her. With that, you push Yujin closer to the wall. You put your back into it, shoving the girl by pressing against her shapely ass. Once you get her into the desired position, you move your hands away from the girl’s backside and grab the zipper of your pants.

Yujin attempts to wiggle. “This is a little uncomfortable!” she calls out. Yujin attempts to move again, but she’s genuinely stuck in place. “I’m stuck now? You want me to be a cocksleeve this badly?”

You laugh and unzip your pants. “Truth be told, I had a good look at your frame.” You take your cock out and place it on Yujin’s bare ass. “I knew that your body would be perfect for this hole, so I had to think about which room would give a tight squeeze but not so tight that it hurts you.”

She places her hands on the wall that’s touchable through the other end of the hole. “It’s just enough to where it doesn’t feel like I’m having my guts squeezed out.” Yujin knows that exaggerating won’t get her anywhere, but she tries to ease the discomfort by making a joke.

“You can get out whenever you want,” you tell her. “I see how wide the hole is and, if you really wanted to, you could escape right now.” Your tip pushes into Yujin’s pussy. “You don’t want to leave yet though, do you?”

Yujin moans as your cock is inserted into her. “I definitely don’t!” She feels her breedable hole get stretched by your length as it pushes inside. When the thrusting begins, Yujin looks down at the floor, focusing her efforts straight down so her neck doesn’t get any pain from focusing elsewhere.

You start to fuck Yujin like you mean it. The bucking of your hips is similar to that of a man who hasn’t seen his lover in weeks. There is desperation in your thrusts. It’s a desperation in the sense of wanting to fill this sexy girl to the brim with your seed.

She gets wetter when your thrusting pattern gets into place. Upon finding the most comfortable position for her hands, Yujin surrenders to you. She never imagined that being stuck would be so arousing to her, but something about the willing helplessness just turns her on like never before.

The sensation of using Yujin is a very arousing one. You never thought that a girl in a suit would be hiding such a good ass. You haven’t even had a look at her chest, but you figure that you’ll save that for next. Your cock is doing everything to make sure that she enjoys it so much that there will be a next time.

Yujin’s pussy juices drip onto the floor. Now that she’s soaking your rod with her wetness, she realizes just how enjoyable you really are. Yujin relaxes, letting you dictate the pace while she makes herself comfortable in her fuckable position.

You can’t see Yujin’s face but you know that she is having the time of her life. Based on how her pussy is constricting around your length to give you something to work for, you can tell that the stuck girl wants you to have as much fun as you want. “Enjoying yourself?” You ask Yujin.

She nods, knowing that you can’t see her. Yujin then gives a response that comes in the form of her shaking her ass. “I’m having a great time,” she moans. “FUCK!” Yujin screams when your cock hits the right spot. 

As you pound her tightness over and over, you feel her reacting well to the thrusts. Yujin’s body is going to make sure that you spill every last drop of your load into her. You smack her ass and watch the skin ripple. Her squeal can be heard through the hole in the wall, which pleases you even more.

Yujin realizes that she can’t contain herself. She knows that she’ll be cumming all over the place in a few minutes. She tells herself that she’s trying to hold on, but a quick change of pace removes that thought from her mind.

You grip Yujin’s hips and speed up. The new rhythm is easily found by you and you use it to your advantage. “You’re so wet,” you moan. As you keep laying pipe in Yujin, your cock throbs. The sensation triggers you in a positive way and you reach around her with one hand, snaking the fingers between the wall and the front side of her body to reach down and play with her clit.

All of the touching is unbearable. Yujin shudders in anticipation. Finding it hard to stay still, Yujin clenches her fists and presses them against the well. The girl’s sexual frustration of days and weeks past fades away with the simple motions of your rod going into her, coming out of her, and going back in again.

Yujin’s orgasm creeps ever closer. The impending spray of juices is the only thing on her mind. Unbothered by work, unbothered by being shoved in a wall, and unbothered by being fucked by a man who she met barely a handful of minutes ago, Yujin enjoys the steady usage of her vagina. She feels it coming and there is nothing that she can do to stop it. All she’s able to do is tell you.

“SHIT, I’M CUMMING!” Yujin screams. She closes her eyes as her body begins to shake. Yujin feels her strong orgasm as the pleasure hits her all at once. Her legs shake and she struggles to stand up, her juices splashing onto the wall and the floor. As she cums, she realizes that your cock is no longer in her.

Unsure if she pushed it out or if you pulled out without telling her, Yujin’s pussy releases even more of her nectar. The girl smacks the wall with her fists, denting the other side from the power of her hits. “GOD, IT FEELS AMAZING!”

You watch Yujin, enjoying her sexual spasms. Once the orgasm is done with, you reward her pussy with a few smacks from your cock. You then slap her folds with your hand, the fingers smacking the wetness and making it splatter even more. “That was more powerful than most of the girls who visit here.”

Yujin chuckles. “Tell me about it,” she jokes. The girl tries to catch her breath, but the raspiness will only last longer. Yujin is impaled by your cock once more while she recovers from her orgasm.

You know that yours will be coming soon as well. You always want to make the most out of a perfect opportunity, so you fuck her like your life depends on it. “That’s it,” you tell her. “Bring me over the edge.” You slap her ass and watch it ripple again as her body reacts to your touches and prodding.

She is leaking at this point. Her juices continue to flow, making her pussy like a Slip ‘N Slide. You continue to batter Yujin’s entrance, hammering with your cock to hit the depths. You then move your hips back and prepare for a change in thrusting.

Your cock is pushed back in, albeit with a little less depth than it just had. You don’t go balls deep, instead choosing to fuck her with almost your entire shaft but not quite the whole thing. A few more moments of this would surely send you skyrocketing into a state of bliss, but you figure that it’s worth it to fill Yujin.

You place both hands on her waist. As you grip her, you keep fucking Yujin and letting the warmth and wetness consume you. You can tell that her pussy is hungry and you don’t want to keep it waiting any longer.

Yujin feels you jackhammer her pussy. She braces for impact, looking back at the floor once more. Yujin’s preparations aren’t enough and she realizes this as you fuck her as hard and fast as possible. “Cum for me,” she begs, biting her lip while waiting for the feeling of a massive load inside of her.

With a groan, you unleash your load. Your hands leave Yujin’s waist as the seed spills into her and you thrust slowly but keeping the same depth. You fuck her while your hands stay off of her body.

Each thrust brings in more semen. You then grab the girl and pull her closer to you, letting the cum be shot deep inside. After a handful of hip thrusts, you leave your cock all the way in her to shoot the last rope. The final bit of your ejaculate comes out and the rod twitches, signaling a job well done.

Yujin feels you pull out of her. She mumbles something under her breath in Korean as your tip emerges from between her lower lips. The girl pants hard like she just had the most vigorous exercise of her life. “Can I get out?”

You think for a moment. “Maybe I should leave you here,” you tell Yujin. You laugh and grab something to clean your cock. After cleaning your rod with her asscheeks, you put the shaft away. Your pants are zipped and you turn away from her while attempting to find a good answer for Yujin’s question.

“You could always stay here for a day.” You smack Yujin’s ass and grab her bag. “I could text your boss to tell you that you’re taking a day off.” Your hands then put her bag back down. “Just get back to work. I do have a condition for you.”

Yujin takes herself out of the wall. “What is it?” she asks you. Once she’s standing up straight, she walks over to her bag. She lifts it and grabs her blazer. Yujin puts the blazer back on and buttons it before putting her bag back over her shoulder. “I am already gonna be like half an hour late,” she says.

You turn back to her and point to the door. “Your condition is actually very simple.” You lean down to whisper in Yujin’s ear. “I want you to do me a favor. The next time that you’re horny, you should come here and visit me. If I’m not here, there will always be an eager cock.”

She covers her mouth while giggling. “Sure thing,” Yujin says. She grabs your crotch and walks to the door. “I’d much rather have the cock I’m familiar with. Just stand outside the door and wait for me to come to you.” Yujin opens the door and breathes softly, attempting to compose herself while she’s still in the building.

“Just give me your phone.” When she hands you her phone, you text your number. “Save me in your contacts as whatever you wanna call me.” You hand her phone back to her after adding the number to her contacts. “Now, get a move on.” You walk Yujin to the exit and keep your arm around her shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to miss the valuable opportunity to have a story to tell.”

[ripeandsoft]

Hi Monae how are you babes? Can I request for terry and his wife having sex for the first time since their baby was born and she was trying to cover up her post baby body after having her baby.

🥺

A/n: I’m good baby! I’m so sorry this took so long, me and my brain weren’t friends lol. Please accept this as an early Christmas gift and apology! I hope you enjoy, feedback is always appreciated 💕

Content warnings: mentions of postpartum insecurity, gentle sex?, oral, a spank or two (i couldn’t help it), mirror sex, fluffy sweetness all around, also barely proofread oops

—

“Diapers, bottles, bibs, pacifiers…” You paced around the nursery as you packed your daughter Josie’s diaper bag. She was laying in her crib, fresh from the bath and drifting off to sleep under the musical chime of her mobile. Terry was quiet as he ambled up the stairs with extra clean bottles and formula. The shadow of you flitting around her room like a mad woman on the hallway wall made Terry laugh. This was Josie’s first time being away from you guys for two whole nights and your nerves were through the roof.

“Calm down baby, you know my mama will take good care of her” Terry sat the bottles and formula on the dresser next to her bag, coming up behind you to rub his hands soothingly down your arms. You leaned back into him and you closed your eyes to take a deep breath. You couldn’t help but be anxious. This was the longest you’d be away from your baby since she was born. You knew Mrs. Richmond wouldn’t let a curl on Josie’s head be touched but your nerves were still crackling with anxiety.

“I know, ‘m just nervous” Your words were hushed as you turned to loop your arms around his waist. “I’m glad we’ll have some alone time. Maybe even get some good sleep, give the baby monitor a rest for the weekend” Terry rocked the both of you back and forth in his embrace. You hummed against him, the warmth of his body against yours making your eyes close in comfort.

Soft gurgles spilled from Josie’s mouth as she shifted positions in her crib, her noises causing you and Terry to separate. “I’ll finish packing up here. You go start the car.” You ordered Terry gently with point of your finger. He nodded dutifully, giving both you and Josie a soft kiss on the cheek.

—

“I’ll miss you babygirl” You cooed at Josie, rubbing her chubby cheek with your thumb. She nuzzled against the contact while she smiled with all her gums. “Y’all better get out of here so I can spend time with my baby” Mrs. Richmond started to usher you and Terry out the door, eager to spend time with her granddaughter. “Can’t we say bye?” Terry asked.

“No you can’t. Now get before them roads get bad.” Mrs. Richmond nodded to the window, swirls of flurries falling outside.

—

It felt weird to be in your bathroom alone. When Josie is fussy but you need to shower you bring her with you, letting her rest in her bouncer while you clean up. Terry often joins you when you’re doing your hair or taking off your makeup. You were never really alone these days, not since Josie was born. Even when she’s not with you physically her presence crackles through the baby monitor seemingly attached to your hand. You’d heard of women who become so consumed with their families that they lose themselves, but that isn’t happening to you.

Right?

All you could think about was a hot shower. Your clothes were strewn across the floor, a fabric trail leading to you standing at the sink. You pulled your braids up into a ponytail before wrapping it up in a fat bun. The counter was cold as you bent down to rest your elbows on it, filling your palms with water so you could wash your face. Before you could reach for the cleanser, your husband slid his hands around your hips.

“Can I help you sir?” You asked him through the mirror, water dripping down your neck to your chest. “Mhm, you sure can” Terry’s voice rumbling low in your ears. His strong hands rubbed over all your soft parts—stomach, hips, thighs, tits, ass. You sighed at the feeling, leaning back into him. But before you can get lost in your man, the quiet part of your mind speaks up.

You’ve never been a stranger to stretch marks, cellulite, dimples, pimples, or moles. All these things came with your figure and you had come to love them. Growing your babygirl gave you immense pride in your body and you wouldn’t trade your pregnancy experience for the world. Being a mother was wonderful journey but every journey has its ups and downs, and these postpartum stages were mostly down. The things you once loved about your body have become insecurities.

“I need to take a shower” You pressed yourself into the sink to create space between you two. “Can I join you?” Terry asks. You avoid his hand reaching for you, side stepping him and going to stand by the shower. “No, thank you baby but I got this one by myself” Your lips quirk up in an awkward smile, your hands shielding your breast and stomach from his watching eyes.

Terry frowned, the crease in the middle of his brows growing deeper as he examined your behavior. You never shy away from his touch whether it’s sexual or not. You’ve been somewhat avoidant recently. Not necessarily detached or distant but just…not the same. It was strange.

“Go lay down” Terry instructs, nodding towards the bedroom. Your mouth opened to retort but the look in Terry’s eyes made the words seep into your tongue. You obeyed wordlessly, feelings his eyes follow your every movement.

—

“Don’t look away” Terry spoke against you, mouth full of your wet pussy. His head could be seen from between your cheeks, the mirror that normally leaned on your bedroom wall now closer to the bed propped on its thin stand. Your eyes watered in pleasure as his tongue swirled around your clenching hole. The silver band of your wedding ring dug into your skin as you held onto the sheets tight.

His lips were soft against you, vibrating with his own moans as he feasted on you. “Terry baby ‘m gonna mmm fuck come” You started to grind against his face, beard tickling your mound. “I know” His words were muffled as he pulled your hips back against his face. The room around you blurred into nothing as your eyes rolled back, orgasm rolling through you with fury.

The sheets were soft on your hard nipples, the added stimulation making you cry out. You pulled yourself away from him weakly only to be pulled back. “Where you going?” He questioned. The spank Terry placed on your right ass cheek had you jolting away from him, which made him wrap his hand around the back of your neck. “Tell me where you going girl” Terry’s voice echoed in your head as you tried to focus. “Nowhere, I promise” You head shook back and forth wildly, braids falling from your bun.

Terry rubbed soothing circle on your now red ass cheek, giving you a moment to calm down. You started to bounce back on Terry’s bulge, your stickiness making his hard dick shine in the light of your bedroom. “Oh you want it now?” He teased. His hand came to hold your hips steady as he started to do the work for you. His swollen tip nudged against your clit just right, bubbles of precum decorating your flesh. You reached back to grab his dick, tired of being empty.

You fell into an arch as he found his home in your pussy. Your walls pulsated around him as if to say “welcome home.”

“Tight ass fucking pussy” He grunted from behind you, his balls resting against your clit as he bottomed out. He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth as he felt his balls start to throb. He fed you slow, deep thrusts, the slap of his thighs on yours filling the room. Goosebumps rushed over your skin with movement.

He hit all your spots with expert precision, catching your hand when you reached back to press it on his stomach. “No ma’am, this what you wanted. Be still and let me work my pussy open” He spoke, head thrown back and eyes closed. Your mind went numb with pleasure. The fat of your thighs started to jiggle as you shook, mouth open in silent moans. Each thrust stole the breath from your lungs.

“Let me tell you something” Terry wrapped a hand in your now messy hair, pulling to get you to look at him through the mirror. “Don’t you ever hide this body from me. This body carried my baby and I’ll be damned if you shamed of it” He punctuated his words with sharper thrusts making you squeal. “Tell me you’re beautiful” He demanded.

“I’m, ugh, I’m beautiful” Your words were quick, drool building up in your mouth and dribbling from the side of it. “Again, make me believe it” He responded. “I’m beautiful Terry, so beautiful” You felt yourself about to come again, walls squeezing him even tighter.

“Yes you are” Terry agreed, his own orgasm building. The sensation of you creaming around him triggered Terry’s orgasm. He continued to thrust as he spilled into you, the mixture of you two dripping onto the sheets. You fell limp onto the bed, shaking and whining at the overwhelming feeling. Terry pulled out slowly to watch his cum flow from your hole.

A warm rag was the next thing you felt on your pussy, the heat making you sigh in relief. “Don’t worry baby, I got you” Terry spoke softly, planting a kiss on your cheek.

—

tags: @kenshisluvrgirl @megamindsecretlair

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Omg I love your writing can you please do a smut fic for Bruce Wayne’s wife asking him to be rough with her like asking to be spanked and chocked because he keeps treating her like she’s fragile and refuse to be rough in bed, she’s really small in stature so he’s always been scared of actually hurting her but she finally convinces him to finally be rough with her. Please ❤️❤️

GRRRR FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ON THIS ONE ABSOLUTELYYY

Sorry this one took a while to write, just had a major snowstorm recently that made a tree fall on the powerlines to my house. Currently running on mobile data to write this bc I won't have wifi till Sunday😀

Like You're Made of Glass

Bruce Wayne x Wife! Reader

Smut and a bit of fluff mixed in.

Alsooo!!! As per the request, the reader is depicted to be quite a fair bit smaller than Bruce, but if anybody wants a Plus Sized reader fic, Im totally down! We love body positivity over here, no matter who you are💜

"Come on, Bruce," Your voice is barely more than a soft, seductive whisper as your arms wrap around his broad, toned shoulders, "I'm not made of glass, you know." Bruce has been at it for hours at this point, the posture of his back absolutely suffering as he continues filling out paperwork at his desk. You would honestly be lying if you said it wasn't attractive, though: driven men are just so... Admirable.

Bruce couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that, despite barely glancing up from his patrol reports as you hug him from behind. "No, you're not," Your husband agrees softly, his voice, albeit slightly gruff from disuse over the past few hours, filling the study air with such a soothing melody. "But you are my wife. And, as far as I'm concerned, a certain Mrs. Wayne vowed that she would keep herself safe from any potential threat the night before we got married. That does include myself, for your information."

A soft huff falls from your lips at that, the sound echoing through the, otherwise silent, secured office. "And, as far as I'm concerned, a certain Mr. Wayne vowed to do anything for my happiness on our wedding day," The tease leaves your mouth as it finds it's way to his neck, the sound slightly muffled as you press soft, loving kisses to his tense muscles. "You promised a unicorn, if I wanted it."

He really couldn't help but crack a soft smile at that, which was a rare sight from the, otherwise stoic, Batman. A deep breath and slight sigh escapes his mouth as the pen leaves his hands and rests on the piles of milky, white papers. Bruce couldn't help but let his head fall to the side slightly to rest upon your cheek, which is still burried into the crook of his neck.

"I did promise you a unicorn," He agrees yet again in an even softer tone. That was the tone he used when he considered caving to his darling wife's pleading (which he almost always did). "And your happiness," Bruce adds after a moment as he lets his weary eyes flutter closed, breathing in your familiar and comforting scent.

“But happiness isn’t just about unicorns and fairy tales, Bruce,” you respond, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. The warmth in your eyes contrasts the cool sterility of the office, sparking something intense in the depths of his dark eyes. “It’s also about being able to live fully in every aspect, even between us.”

He furrows his brow slightly, processing your words, but he can't deny the heat rising from where your bodies almost touch and how it made his pants feel just that bit tighter. You have a way of igniting feelings he'd long buried under layers of duty and responsibility. “I just… I want you safe,” he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

“I know you do,” you assure him, reaching out to trace your fingers along the strong line of his jaw. “But sometimes, I need you to let go—just a little. You don’t always have to protect me. I’m not a delicate flower needing shelter from the storm. I can handle more than you think.”

A flicker of uncertainty dances across his sharp features as he considers your request. His instincts scream at him to be careful, to treat you with the utmost caution. It feels impossible to shake the weight of years spent fighting villains and guarding against any potential harm. But then again, you’ve never been one to shrink back from challenges.

“And what exactly are you suggesting?” he questions, half-teasing, half-serious, lifting an eyebrow. The tension in the spacious office thrummed with electricity, and his heart raced in anticipation of your answer.

Your lips curl into a confident smile, emboldened by a newfound sense of liberation. “I’m saying… I want you to be you,” you say, your voice steady and full of promise. “The true you. Your passion is part of who you are, Bruce. Embrace it—embrace me. Let’s shake things up a bit.”

He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, the playful challenge hanging thick between you. “You mean you want the Batman?” he asks, his voice lowering further, laced with a darker edge that sends a thrill coursing through you.

“Exactly.” You lean closer, your breath fanning over his skin, whispering sweetly, “I want you to show me how much you can handle without worrying if it will break me.”

Bruce studies you closely, weighing the implications of your daring invitation. What if he lost control? What if he did hurt you, despite knowing you were more than capable of taking care of yourself? But then again, this was another side of you he had never truly explored. This vulnerable yet fierce woman in front of him—the perfect blend of softness and strength.

“Alright,” he finally concedes, his deep voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. “But if I lose myself—”

“You won’t,” you interrupt, capturing his gaze with yours. “Trust me. Just let go.”

In that moment, the barriers that had always kept him restrained began to crumble. He leaned forward, capturing your lips with his, the kiss igniting a spark that felt both electrifying and intoxicating. The gentle brush of your mouths transformed into something deeper, more fervent, an unspoken promise exchanged in the heated embrace.

The tension of the day melted away, replaced by the rhythm of inspiration and passion. As you pulled him closer, your body pressed firmly against his, the world outside ceased to exist. Time stood still in the sanctity of the study as both of you surrendered to the moment, determined to reveal the hidden depths of your love for one another.

Bruce's hands found your waist, gripping the soft fabric of your shirt as he deepened the kiss, seeking to possess and protect all at once. There was urgency in his movements now, a storm brewing beneath the surface that had long been contained. Your heart raced at the primal energy radiating from him, and you could feel the anticipation thrumming through every fiber of your being.

Breaking the kiss, his breath was heavy and warm against your lips. "You want me to be rougher, then," he murmured, almost as if solidifying the agreement into existence. "Is that what you really want?"

You nodded vigorously, feeling your cheeks flush with a mix of excitement and desire. “Yes, Bruce. I’m ready. Just… take care of me afterward.”

With that affirmation ringing in his ears like a battle cry, Bruce transitioned effortlessly into this new role — the man beneath the mask, the guardian who had finally allowed vulnerability within the sanctuary of your shared intimacy.

He pushed you back until the desk met the small of your back, a flash of surprise dancing across your features. But before you could second-guess yourself, he captured your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. His frame loomed over yours, an embodiment of strength and restraint, the very image of the Batman you knew.

“Remember,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, “if it gets to be too much, you tap out.”

“Okay,” you whispered, anticipation flooding your veins.

With a quick motion, he brought his other hand down, delivering a sharp smack against your thigh that sent a jolt of electrifying pleasure coursing through you. You gasped, not from pain, but from exhilaration, your body instinctively arching to welcome him deeper into your world. A thrill spread through you as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Good girl,” he praised, another spank following, each strike sharper yet tinged with the tenderness of his touch. You squirmed beneath him, relishing the balance of pleasure and pain, the way that every strike lit up your skin and left a burning mark of his possession.

“More,” you urged, desperation coloring your tone, and he didn't hesitate to comply. Each slap echoed throughout the office, a rhythm punctuated by your soft cries and the heat radiating from Bruce’s body. He watched you carefully, assessing your reaction, the fierce protectiveness never fully disappearing from his gaze.

As the strikes continued, he leaned down and captured your neck between his fingers, applying just enough pressure to send a thrilling rush through your body without choking you. “You’re doing so well for me,” he murmured in that deep, gravelly tone that made your heart race even faster.

His actions intensified the fire within you, igniting a need that warped your perception of time and space. As he toyed with your neck, whispering praises and encouragements, your body responded instinctively, hungry for more of him, more of this exhilarating freedom he was giving you.

“Please, Bruce,” you gasped, your voice almost pleading. It felt like a confession, one that laid bare more than just the physical hunger you craved. “I want everything you can give me.”

A growl rumbled in his chest at that, a sound so primal and beautiful that it sent shockwaves through your entire being. A wicked grin crept onto his face as he transitioned from teasing strokes to something far more feral. He released your wrists, only to shift his grip to your hair, his fingers curling around the strands tightly yet tenderly.

“You asked for it,” he warned, a playful glint in his eyes before leaning forward, claiming your mouth with his again, the taste of you igniting the raw side of his nature. The kiss held none of the gentleness he usually afforded you; instead, it was possessive, driving, demanding.

As he did so, one of his large, calloused hands made it's way beneath your skirt to gently tease the skin of your thigh. The warm appendage slowly traveled up your leg, cupping the mass of your hip while his fingers slipped beneath the stretchy elastic of your panties. They were the pretty, lacy ones he picked up on his last big work trip out of the country.

The warmth of his lips was soon missed, however, as they trailed away from your own. But before you could whine at the loss of contact, his mouth trailed down to your jawline and neck, sucking and biting deep, purple marks into your delicate skin.

You didn't even have a chance to let out a small whimper at the assault on your neck before the sound of fabric ripping could be heard throughout the lavishly-decorated room. "Bruce!" You complain with a soft pout as you feel the reminants of the lacy cloth slipping down your thighs before landing in a small pile of shreds on the carpet floor.

"My deepest apologies, Mrs. Wayne," Bruce didn't bother to lift his head from your neck as he gave that shit-eating grin that you seldom see. He wasted no time in trailing his ring finger along your slick heat, collecting some of the moisture previously accumulating in your panties before trailing the digit up and around your sensitive bundle of nerves. "They're replaceable."

It didn't take long for your hips to be twitching softly, your husband's index and middle fingers tortuously and slowly trailing back to your weeping hole. His warm, calloused thumb moved to rub soft, languid circles on your clit as the digits slid their way inside of you, his lips never ceasing their attack on your, now bruising, neck.

"Baby-" Your whines were shortened in record time as Bruce used his free hand to cover your mouth, squeezing just enough on your jaw to get the point across. The slight stretch of his thick, long fingers inside of your cunt was divine: you almost couldn't help it.

"Speak when you're spoken to, beautiful," his voice was barely more than a rough whisper as his lips moved down your chest, removing the hand from your mouth to undo the first couple of buttons on your blouse. "I wouldn't want my wife out of place, would I? It's not safe for Batman's woman not to listen when given instructions."

His tone was almost enough to send shivers down your spine as your hips twitched yet again as his fingers pumped at a quickened pace, scissoring your gummy walls open to eventually accomodate for his girthy length. Almost immediately, your thigh is met with yet another loud 'smack!' in the otherwise quiet office. "Fuck, Bruce..." A soft whine escapes you, filling the air with your husband's favorite melody. He'd let you off the hook for speaking... This time, at least.

It felt like forever that Bruce spent eagerly fingering your dripping cunt, but that was to be expected. Even if he agreed to let go for the night, he could never risk seriously hurting his beautiful wife by not prepping her correctly. But, eventually, you felt that oh-so familiar tightening sensation in your stomach, your clit burning with pleasure as your husband rubbed at the sensitive spot.

But, then, he stopped.

Bruce had never denied you an orgasm before. In all honesty, you thought you were going to cry as he pulled his fingers away from your cunt, the muscles now clenching desperately around nothing but thin air. Before you could so much as make a pout, he was holding his two fingers to your lips, the digits gleaming with your own fluids. "Suck."

And, for a moment, you laid there as you processed his command. The gesture seemed so obscene but, god, you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on nonetheless. So, you gently parted your plush, kiss-swollen lips for him and embraced the pallete of the liquids created by none other than your weeping, aching hole.

Bruce let out a soft, pleased hum at that, pushing his fingers completely into your mouth before slowly unbuckling his belt with his unoccupied hand. You couldn't help but notice that it was tour favorite belt, the one with your initials engraved into the metal clasp currently making it's way to the carpeted floor of the study.

As always, you felt your heart give a soft flutter at the sight of your husband's hard, leaking cock as he freed it of his boxers, letting them fall down to his ankles before stepping out of them and allowing then to join the pile of scraps you once called your favorite panties. You were so entranced by Bruce you hadn't even noticed that youd stopped sucking on his soaked digits.

'Smack!'

Yet another echo came from the soft skin of your thigh as his free hand came in contact with it, the lewd sound bouncinf off of the filled bookcases. "Did I ever tell you to stop?" The tone he used was one you very rarely got to hear, usually reserved for the scumbags he interrogated during the dark Gotham nights.

It was hot.

You shook your head slightly as you looked up at those beautiful, blue eyes, now darkened with what could only be described as feral lust. This, yet again, earned a soft hum of approval from your husband. "Good girl..." He praised in a soft whisper, his unoccupied hand reaching to carefully align the tip of his length up with your heat. "I want you to tap out if it's too much. I need you to tap out if it's too much.

And before you could even utter another whimper, Bruce was sinking his girthy cock into your wet folds. He wasted no time in plowing himself into you, the hard slapping echoing through the study so loudly that you worried if one of the kids were to walk by, they'd have a horrendous image of their adoptive parents burned into their skulls. But all of those thoughts vanished as Bruce shoved his fingers even further down your throat, just barely leaving you enough room to breathe without a significant struggle.

If you had the ability to, your head would be falling back and your jaw would be slack in utter ecstasy. The most you could do for the moment was moan around your husband's thick fingers while he plowed into you, the mahogany desk creaking slightly from the pressure below. In all honesty, you were convinced Bruce would break the desk before he was through. Even then, it didn't seem like he had any intentions of stopping.

"Such a good girl for me..." This was so much different than the Bruce you were used to. Your Bruce held you as close as possible while whispering declarations of love and claiming that you're the best thing to ever happen to him. This Bruce wasn't holding you like a porcelain doll, but instead keeping himself at the best angle to ram into your pretty pussy as hard as he could. "That's my pretty little cunt, isn't it?"

The best you could do was let out a pornographic whine around his fingers, spit dripping down from the corners of your stuffed lips and making it's way down tour flushed and heated cheeks. Despite his literal decades of experience, it took all of his effort not to cum right then and there with your warm, gummy walls milking his length.

Pound after pound.

Slap after slap.

For what felt like eternity, that's all that could be heard. At this point in your sexual adventure, Bruce was determining that he much rathered ramming into your tight little hole when you were still partially clothed. It gave him something more to imagine the next time he saw you in the office and didn't have the chance to bend you over his desk.

And, for the second time that night, you felt that firey, knotted feeling arising in the pits of your stomach. As your fingers reached up to gently tangle your fingers into his, now messy, hair and give it a soft tug, the most you could do otherwise was give him a pleading look, silently begging for him not to rip away yet another orgasm in one night.

At first, Bruce debated edging you at least once more. But when he finally looked into those gorgeous eyes, now hazed over with need, trust, and love, he decided that the rest of the teasing could wait for another night. "Are you going to cum, beautiful?" His voice is ragged and interrupted by a soft groan as he speaks. "Is my pretty little wife going to cum all over my cock?"

While you nodded desperately, still begging for your release to be granted, he kept his pace steady while giving a soft nod, the hair on his forehead sticking slightly with the sheen layer of sweat forming. Within moments, your gummy walls were clenching down around his thick length like there was no tomorrow, covering his shaft with the milky fluid that splashed up onto his pelvic bone and thighs slightly. "Bruce..." Your endless whimpers of his name were bately audible over the thick digits still shoved into your mouth.

As Bruce's hips began to stutter and his groans became more prominent, you wrapped your sore and achy legs around him. "Stay," You whimpered as he removed his fingers in favor of wrapping his arms around your shoulders, almost hugging you as he kept you pinned over the mahogany desk. "Give it to me. Don't pull out. Don't you fucking dare pull out."

That was all it took for Bruce's face to be burried in your shoudler, letting out a low moan as his cock painted your insides with his sperm. Even after he came, your husband still moved slowly in and out of your weeping cunt, prolonging the ecstasy of both of your orgasms as long as possible. Had the two of you ever talked seriously about kids? No, but he could pick up a Plan B in the morning.

"Fuck..." Was all Bruce muttered into your skin before peppering your skin in light kisses, each one trailing upward until his lips met yours in a soft, loving contact. This was the loving husband you were used to. When he finally pulled away and helped brush some of the hair now sticking to your forehead from the sheer layer of sweat covering your body out of the way, he only had three words. "I love you."

Masterlist

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #11

It's an innocent ("please," Jason sneers, "there's nothing innocent about a plagiaristic propaganda machine encouraging minors to dance for sick ol' pervs while it spews misogynistic hate speech.'"

"okay, boomer,"

"the fuck did you just call me, replacement?") TikTok, one of those ones that kind of simmers in the background for a few weeks until someone with a decent enough following posts it on the Platform Formerly Known as Twitter and from there it seriously catches traction, blowing up until Tim knocks on Bruce's office door, phone in hand. Damian stands behind him, arms crossed and clearly simmering.

Bruce, fresh off a series of zoom conferences, raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, so you haven't seen it," Tim decides, striding forward.

Bruce's eyebrow jumps a smidge higher, on the edge of concern, as Tim thrusts his phone into his grasp.

"So," he begins, reaching over to refresh the mobile page "there's a video that's been making the rounds on Twitter and—well you should probably see it," He sighs over Damian's scoff as he clicks through the pop-up asking him to sign in or join TikTok, and presses "Watch Again", unmuting the video.

🎶 "Doo, badoo-badoo-badoo Badoo-badoo-badoo-badoo,"🎶 an upbeat background song hums as someone, presumably a student, films a school hallway with their phone. They walk past students talking near their lockers, some of whom flash peace signs and silly grins as the camera swings their way before continuing on.

But the main point Bruce gets stuck on is the all lowercase white text at the center of the screen that an automated woman's voice awkwardly narrates:

"when you go to school with bruce wayne's other long lost lovechild"

The student filming comes up behind a much taller student who faces away from him, in conversation with a black haired pale teenaged girl. She spots the cameraman and shoots him a confused, disgruntled look, saying something to the boy who then turns around.

Bruce quietly observes as the camera zooms in on a boy around Tim's page, possibly older. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a strong jaw, he raises an eyebrow at the one filming, looking beyond the camera, pitch black hair with blue undertones falling into his blue eyes. The camera momentarily zooms too far into those eyes then abruptly pulls back as he quirks a puzzled smile at the viewer, mouthing out an easily understandable "hi?".

The TikTok ends and seamlessly transitions to a person balancing their cat on an exercise ball with minimal success and this time Bruce presses the Watch Again button. The heart on the right side claims 750k likes.

Damian scoffs, louder, as it ends. "Clearly it is a hoax, but it has been popular among my classmates."

"The board hasn't made much noise about it—" Tim starts.

"And they won't," Bruce says, lifting his eyes from his phone. "Wayne Industries doesn't give statements on videos like these, no matter how viral they become. I've been getting lovechild claims since before I adopted Dick."

Which Tim knows, which is why his insistence on showing Bruce this one raises his hackles. He pins Tim down with a stare and despite Tim's perfected PR mask, he can see Tim is unsettled.

"B...he really, really looks like you." Tim admits. Damian scoffs for a third time and Tim shoots him a glare, "I get it, you don't see it, but you haven't seen the pictures of Bruce when he was younger."

"I don't need to!" Damian says angrily. "You're all being ridiculous!"

"All?" Bruce asks. Tim shifts awkwardly. "The family group chat has been talking," he says.

"I see," Bruce says. Because he does. Many claim Damian to be his doppelganger, but the boy actually favors Talia not just in skin tone but in the shape and color of his eyes, as well as the soft slope of her mouth and ears. Whether those features will sharpen once he goes through puberty is anyone's guess.

But this young man has Bruce's eyes. Martha's eyes.

That night they have a suspiciously full house for dinner, with even Jason dropping in, but no one says anything until Barbara wheels in for dessert, carrying a manila folder on her lap.

"What?" she says, when everyone stares. "Dick told me it was crème brûlée today!"

Bruce extends a hand wordlessly, and Barbara sheepishly hands the folder over.

"Bruce," she says, before he can open it, "I wouldn't have looked into this normally, but,"

"Just say it," Jason says, leaning back in his chair. "Take away the gray hairs, the receding hairline, and the wrinkles and the kid's a dead match."

"Take it back, Todd," Damian growls, "Father has a very full head of hair!"

"Not to mention a failed track record at keeping it in his pants, Exhibit A," Jason continues, pointing a fork at Damian, "oh wait," he says gleefully, "kid is definitely 18, so I guess that would make you Exhibit B!"

The table erupts, cutlery tinkling as Damian gets a knee up on the table to hurl himself at a cackling Todd, Dick jumping up to grab him as the others lean out of the way—

"Ahem!" Everyone stops cold as Alfred stands in the doorway, porcelain ramekins of crème brûlée stacked perfectly on a silver tray. Under his gaze, everyone sits back down, Damian and Jason both quietly uttering a "Sorry Alfie/Alfred," as they straighten up.

Bruce is oblivious to the chaos, Barbara biting her lip beside him as he stares blankly inside the folder at the printed copy of an adoption certificate.

Two days and several million likes later, another TikTok goes viral from the same user. Caught in the moment as whoever is filming runs up to the group, the same young man is chatting with a blonde in a red letterman jacket, a partially formed crowd around them. Even with one leg still in the cafeteria table, he towers over everyone.

"—sh. Look, we're all possibly Bruce Wayne's son!" the boy snarks. He has his hands out, palms up as if he's making a great point, and as he looks around he catches sight of the cameraman and his smirk drops.

"Ah Mac, c'mon dude not again—" and the TikTok ends.

[scribblestatic]

Since this is now the third post of Spider Shen Yuan, I'll make a masterpost for it. It'll be linked at the end.

Also, fun fact I just found out, but the word for spider in Chinese is 蜘蛛 (Zhī zhū), and, as you know, Shen Yuan's title (given to him) is Lulin Zhizhu (绿林之主 - lǜlín zhī zhǔ - Lord of the Green Forest).

And, like, I know they're two different words because zhū and zhǔ aren't the same. But also, I chose to use Zhīzhǔ because it's close to Shizun (师尊 - Shī zūn), both of which mean master, though Shizun is teacher-master and Zhizhu is lord-master, the latter of which, when using a different word, is also Zhizhu (spider).

FUCK I'm good. Coincidences are on my side on this one.

...Also, if they were to mispronounce his title, he could also be Pearl/Bead of the Green Forest (綠林之珠 - Lùlín Zhīzhū), which I think is cute.

---

The demoness does not take kindly to one of her guards being killed.

In retaliation, she demands that the demon guards use their full power to capture and imprison him.

However, Shen Yuan has not been living and growing for...who knows how many years...without preparing for eventually finding himself in a battle with more intelligent beings than the typical monster.

Using his legs as toothpicks, he stabs each little morsel she sends his way, setting some aside as his little minion spiders wrapped them up to eat later and eating others immediately.

His carapace is quite strong, and his eyes, though lidless, aren't mere weak points some game character could mash until he was destroyed. He has near 360 degree vision with almost blind spots unless he just really isn't paying attention. And since he's paying attention, he makes sure that, even if they haven't hit him yet, he sprays webs to disable the more spiritually-inclined demons staying further back.

When a stronger one approaches, he scuttles out of range, large but extremely mobile. After all, he's covered his entire neck of the woods in his webs, whether visible or nearly imperceivable to the naked human (or demon) eye.

He started as an orb weaver, but over the years, he's adapted to different styles of webs. It's a requirement of the strong to adapt to their surroundings, after all.

Eventually, most of the guards are reduced to little web-covered bags, wriggling futilely to escape, and the demoness, with a few remaining soldiers, cowers as her continued orders start to sputter out.

With a few calculated maneuvers, he causes the presence of the humans to slip from their minds, eventually concealing them in a corner with protective webs. So, even if it occurred to any of them to attempt to use human hostages, they were now out of sight. And taking their eyes off the very real threat in front of them was incredibly unwise, anyway.

Webs thicken. Bodies hang in strong, thick, grey sacks. Little spiders with even smaller legs team together, following under a single spider's orders.

Shen Yuan strategically spins something between a funnel and a sheet web, trapping the remaining demons within. Fire-retardant as his webs are, even trying to burn them proves futile.

The demoness, her guard captain, and the last three demon guards watch in visible terror, squirming deliciously. He's used quite a bit of silk, so he's feeling hungry. Watching them twitch tickles a little part in his brain that says he should bundle them up, nice and tight...

Would he eat them now? Or, perhaps, he should save them for later. Little morsels, qi and blood thrumming through their veins, physical and spiritual.

He lowers himself into the funnel he made, his limbs stretching out, reaching for them.

Surely, they will be—

"...T...There once was a demon..."

Shen Yuan stops suddenly, his legs twitching.

The guard general clears his throat.

"There once was a demon, long ago, who fell in love with a human. A cultivator."

Oh. A story.

Yes.

Yes, Shen Yuan likes stories.

Clearing the hungering fog from his mind, he pulls back, limbs curling in as he watches intently. Listening.

The demon general tells the story of the ill-fated demon and their love for a cultivator. By all intents and purposes, it seemed it was destined to be one-sided.

However, when the cultivator discovers the demon, it turns out she recognizes him. The demon in the story had once saved the human cultivator, and, desiring power, she pursued cultivation so she could stand side-by-side with the demon one day.

They spent many centuries together. But then, the cultivator was made into a god. Drawn up to the celestial realm, the cultivator left the demon behind, and the demon cried out in anguish.

Hatred stewed in the demon's heart over the cultivator's broken promise, and he shot up toward the heavens, ripping into the celestial realm, even as the spiritual qi poisoned him. He ripped and tore through heavenly beings and gods alike, finally coming face-to-face with the goddess that abandoned him.

However, the demon, who still loved the goddess despite it all, could not bring himself to kill her. So, he jumped down from the celestial realm, returning to the demon realm.

Having spent so much time killing gods and spiritual creatures, he was forever altered by the experience. Spiritual qi polluted his body, but he adapted to it, having spent so much time with the cultivator and learning her ways. Determined to not die from qi poisoning, he circulated the spiritual qi and demonic qi, meshing them until it became his own.

Thus, he became the first Heavenly Demon. A demon not even the gods could deny.

That phrase...ah.

Ah, yes. He's heard that term before. From the story he couldn't forget.

Something about this story, about the origin of heavenly demons, didn't sound quite right. A little nigging at the back of his mind. But now wasn't the time to ponder on that too much.

"Hmm... A very interesting story. Of promises broken and power gained. From where did you hear such a tale?"

"My...mother. Used to tell this one of the story," the general stiltedly replies.

"Is it accurate?"

"As far as he knows."

"Very good. This spider very much liked it."

He crawls up higher and begins tearing into the makeshift funnel. Other smaller spiders also begin to tear it apart, unraveling it enough in one spot that something of a door split open in the thick weaving.

"He shall let this group of demons go as thanks for the quality and depth of the story."

But, as the guard captain begins to bow, the little demon princess speaks up, her voice shaking.

"Wait! You! You said you'd make a dress for Li-er!"

Shen Yuan tilts his body, much like one would tilt their head.

"The miss seems to misunderstand. This spider has decided to show her and the remainder of her entourage grace for the quality of the story told to him. However, the story was not only told by the guard captain, but it served as repayment. The story was an expense owed, not one given in return for something else."

He lowers himself closer to the ground, hanging lazily by a single gleaming thread, what little wounds he had already closed and scarred over. The other spiders move around, once again revealing the sky, which has grown naturally dark. The moonlight shines off his round, focused eyes.

"The miss told a story when she arrived. A hateful little tale. About how I, the one recognized as lord of the forest he helped grow, had committed a slight against a nameless little demoness for bestowing gifts upon those who asked for them appropriately. This little miss threatened me, in my domain, with slavery and servitude, to be treated as little more than a slavering beast good only for the produce of its body."

His fangs flex, and she steps back.

"And so, this spider was slighted. Severely. And in return, this spider began to take. And take. And take some more. To take what was owed to me, with due interest."

The withered body of Shen Yuan's first victim lies crumpled on the ground.

"This spider was merely rectifying your sin."

The guard captain extends an arm in front of the lady, but he keeps his gaze low, not daring to look him directly in the eyes.

"...But this guard was wise. He paid this spider with a marvelous story that appeased this one very much. And so, not only has this one decided to let him live, but he's decided to let the little miss and the rest of her guards live as well. A steal, one could say. Five, for the price of one."

He chuckles, light, airy, and rumbling all the same.

"Tell this lord, guard captain. Has this one not been quite magnanimous?"

The captain swallowed thickly, then he lowered himself to one knee. The remaining guards, the ones not bleeding out or cocooned, swiftly followed suit, smelling deliciously of tears, sweat, fear, and salt.

"The Great Spider has been most gracious to us. We thank him for his mercy."

"See," Shen Yuan says, fangs flexing in a poor mockery of a smile. "He understands well."

The little demon princess looks around her, seeming to finally get out of her head and understand what she was dealing with. Her fingers then clutch into her dress, nearly ripping it with her nails... But she slowly lets go, then tucks her hands into her sleeves as she gives a slight bow.

"...Li-er...understands. Thanking this...the Great Spider...for his guidance."

"Hmmh."

Shen Yuan starts losing interest quite quickly. Ruoxing and Miyun are still hiding behind the web he made for them, and with it being dark, they need to head home soon. It's past time to wrap this up.

"This one is a bit surprised this has all turned out the way it has. No demon has been so disrespectful toward me in quite some time. Though, this one supposes, if he knows not your name or title, he shan't expect you to know his. But worry not, worry not. Tis now water under the bridge.

"Though, it is quite late now... Since you no longer owe this spider your lives, perhaps we can barter on much better terms now."

"What would you ask of us, Great Spider?" the guard captain asks.

"The humans you brought with you. Return them to their village. They've garnered this spider's favor, so he shan't tolerate any harm coming to them. This forest can be quite thick and treacherous at night."

"And...in return?"

"The miss shall have her dress."

See? Isn't he so kind?

Miyun won't have to go back home, being led by spiders she's clearly terrified of judging by how she's kept her eyes quite firmly shut for the last few minutes. Ruoxing can show his superiority by helping her get home, even after being attacked by demons. And the little demon princess can have the dress she wanted! Everyone ends up happy.

"...How long should we wait for the dress, if this lowly one may ask?"

"Oh, it should be done by the time you return tonight. This spider wouldn't imagine you all being welcome to rest amongst the humans after such a debacle."

The guard captain doesn't reply, instead looking toward the demon princess. She purses her lips, but eventually, she responds.

"Then, Li-er shall guide the humans home and return. Does the Great Spider need this one's measurements?"

"No. This one has had quite enough time looking at you to acquire them."

Her lip twitch as some indignation returns to her expression. "Should Li-er take this as an expression of lechery?"

"Not at all. Doesn't the young miss also marvel at her food before consuming it?"

As though remembering she was, indeed, almost eaten, she finally shuts right up.

--

The demons do, indeed, return Miyun and Ruoxing home without incident. Perhaps it was because he had his little helpers trail them the entire time, waiting for even a single slip-up or twitch toward taking their anger out on them. Thankfully, they've lost enough lives that day and don't intend to lose any more.

When they return, as promised, Shen Yuan presents the demon princess with a qixiong ruqun, using yellow and other pastels to complement her pink skin (he's been getting into dyes more recently, and he has the fruit to do it). She is immediately enamored by it, but her gaze trails to the webs and the splatters of blood on the ground, and any overt excitement is immediately quenched.

Shen Yuan doesn't feel bad for her, not really. He does feel some sympathy, but lacks any empathy for her situation. If she'd simply come and told a story for her dress, no blood would've had to been spilled, and no lives would've had to be lost.

The dress, which could've simply been paid for with a story, was paid for in blood that wasn't her own. And she would have to face any ire from demons whose family members failed to return due to her own foolishness.

After showing them to the other route, the one that doesn't pass by the village (the one where he's greeted the occasional passing demon), he sends them on their way.

He doesn't expect to see them again, but the little demon princess comes back to commission more clothing, approaching the demon route entrance to his general domain. And this time, she comes with stories.

He comes to learn her name, Xu Meili (许 美丽 - Xǔ Měilì). She's the fourth daughter of some demon general serving a higher lord, but she's basically the equivalent of some human noble, not that Shen Yuan would say that.

Apparently, upon seeing him, they were under the impression he really was just some beast, unaware he was Lulin Zhizhu.

Demons were generally seen as more respectable if they had a more bipedal, humanoid appearance. After all, many weaker demons would cultivate for centuries just to acquire a human form, from huli jing to demonic plants. The fact Shen Yuan still wore a quite monstrous appearance would fool most supposedly decent demons into thinking him a mindless creature.

It also didn't help that, although Lulin Zhizhu was known in little whispers around certain demon communities, for him to be worshiped as a god by humans, they thought he would surely have a human form.

Though, as Xu Meili explained with trepidation, she wasn't using that as an excuse, but merely explaining what she'd thought. That, Shen Yuan could appreciate. As long as she learned her lesson and didn't waste anyone else's lives with her misunderstandings.

Speaking with her, the demon guard general, and other visiting demons helped him immensely. Their stories, while often more bloody and teeming with resentment, were just as pleasing, if not sometimes more so. When he was in a particularly vindictive mood, a demon's story often settled better than something lighter, more forgiving, and human.

He also gained better insight into demon culture... And the fact demons weren't exactly sure how to categorize him. His qi wasn't exactly spiritual, but it wasn't exactly demonic either. In fact, it was that strange mixture of qi that led the demon guard captain to tell the story about heavenly demons.

He was under the impression the spider perhaps was one.

Unsure whether to confirm or deny, Shen Yuan didn't do either. After all, he was pretty sure he wasn't a heavenly demon, but honestly? He didn't know.

So, he'd let the rumor mill roll on that one. Not that he left his forest anyway. Never really saw a reason to get out much when the spiritual and demonic beasts trailing through the forest were plenty enough to fill his stomach. He also had visiting villagers and demons to sate his desire for knowledge. Being a homebody suited him just fine.

--

Han Miyun (韩 蜜韫 - Hán Mìyùn) couldn't quite shake her fear of spiders, so she didn't come back to see him. That being said, it wasn't as though she wasn't grateful. Ruoxing came to visit several times after, seeming even more chummy with Shen Yuan than before, carrying baskets full of mantou and a scroll with a story she wanted to tell him.

When he asked what she wanted of him, Ruoxing said she wanted nothing, and it was simply a gift.

Feeling uncomfortable receiving something without giving in return, he sent Ruoxing back with fruit and qi-infused grass.

This apparently set off a give-a-thon, as Ruoxing swiftly became a willing pack mule between Miyun and Shen Yuan.

"You know, Zhizhu, perhaps you could come out of the forest and visit," Ruoxing hums one day.

Although Shen Yuan's cephalothorax doesn't lend well to expressions, apparently, he had a *look* in his eyes that made the young man fall over laughing.

"You don't have to reject it so strongly! I understand, I understand!"

"This one didn't say anything."

"Forgive me for being impudent, but, Zhizhu, you looked like a cat facing the sea just now."

Listen, it wasn't that Shen Yuan hated the idea of leaving the forest, okay? He simply liked where he was, surrounded by little spider servants that benefited from the fruits of his prior labor and served him in return. He had food, shelter, and visitors. What more could he want?

Traveling to new places...did kinda sound nice But then who would be there to exchange food for storieeessss the spiders could do that. They could. The little ones could possibly take written works and exchange them for other items, like silk, clothes, leather, or whatever else was available.

But still, he could've very well trudge around in his big spider body. That was just begging for every cultivator under the Sun to try to exorcise him or something. He'd have to cultivate a humanoid form. And he...

Did not...really want to?

Mmh.

For some reason, whenever he thinks of a humanoid body... More accurately, of himself within a humanoid body, he thinks of a compressed chest. Of weak limbs. Of heavy breathing, white walls, and monotonous beeping.

He thinks of breaking out in rashes from poor air conditions. Of laying on the floor in a porcelain room, trying to absorb the coolness to combat the heat ravaging his body. Of using some sort of device to support a weakened left leg because his heart wouldn't work right...

Yes. A humanoid body would surely be uncomfortable.

If that meant he had to stay right where he was, so be it.

--

Time passes like that, with demons becoming more frequent visitors on their side and the humans doing what they've always done.

The spiders, although still smaller and with lesser power than he has, seem to be developing more thoughts of their own. Although utterly loyal to him, they also begin acting on their on imperative if he hasn't given them any orders.

One of his older servants, a jumping spider, seemed to take on something of a managerial role. After molting several times, growing larger, and gaining more intelligence, she began collecting stories and making exchanges based on previous examples of his habits.

As it turned out, she had developed a demon core already? Well, it wasn't quite a demon core. She had mostly spiritual qi instead of demonic qi, so she was more suitable for communing with humans.

It seemed that, due to the very instinctual drives they had, coupled with typically being reviled by humans, developing to such an extent was a rarity (of course, that meant Shen Yuan was an outright cryptid).

Through some quiet understanding between them, Shen Yuan ended up naming her. She seemed to accept the name Zhuzi (珠子 - Zhūzǐ - Little Pearl) well enough.

She's rather helpful, especially when someone arrives with a story but he's already occupied with someone else. It doesn't happen often, but with both humans and demons now associating with him more frequently, as infrequently as that can be, having someone else help does wonders.

Fan Zhenzhen visits from time to time, sometimes to tell stories, other times to simply be around him. Sometimes, she'll ask questions about a plant, animal, or some other thing she's seen or heard of.

Of course, Shen Yuan doesn't mind simply sharing knowledge. With all the fantastical creatures in the world, he's quite charmed by them, so talking about them is time well spent. Especially for someone like him, who is simply a spider and doesn't have a job.

As she grows older, she comes to visit a bit less. A little disheartening, yes, but he understands. It makes the times he does see her all the more meaningful.

Fan Ruoxing grows older, and eventually, he marries Han Miyun. He arrives the day before his wedding and gives him a cup of sweetened black tea. It's so small, it's barely anything to him. It tastes fantastic regardless. Shen Yuan sends him off with a wedding gift basket of fresh vegetables, spices, and a poncho shawl to match Miyun's.

On the day-of, Shen Yuan sits in his cave, feeling a bit unsettled.

It's not like he really wants to be down in the village. He likes his quiet, relative solitude. Moreover, what human would want a huge spider at their wedding with their arachnophobic wife? He'd be nothing but a disturbance.

Zhuzi, who ventured out with her smaller, less conspicuous body, watched the wedding from the nearby tree line. He silently gave her more Thrice-Bloomed Yuzu after she relayed the festivities to him.

She did the same thing when Fan Ruoxing's first daughter came into the world.

100 days later, he, Miyun, and Meixiu (美宿 - Měixiù) came to visit, although Miyun was never once able to look up. Even still, after telling him a story, Shen Yuan blesses their child, hoping that her life is as bright and plentiful as the 'beautiful constellations' in the night sky.

He also gives them some of the same yuzu he would give Zhuzi, though he directs them to dilute it. After all, it's very qi-rich and could be a bit much for her developing spiritual veins. Fan Meixiu had the spiritual strength and potential to become a cultivator, after all.

A year and a few months later, and they visit with their second and third children, twins. Qinglian (轻莲 - Qīnglián) and Jiahao (家豪 - Jiāháo) didn't quite have the same spiritual potential, but Shen Yuan wished they would lead meaningful, fruitful lives nevertheless.

With more mouths to feed and more care to give, visits to him become less frequent. Again, quite disappointing, but to be expected.

The same goes for the little demon princess, Xu Meili. Some demon politics and intrigue take up more of her time, and despite being one of nine children, the fourth daughter, eighth out of the nine, she was the one who apparently found the most auspicious husband. This was, according to her, partially due to her many spider silk clothes.

Since she was going quite far away to be with her husband, future correspondence would dwindle. But she does, in that rough tone of hers that she could never quite get rid of, tell him that he would be welcome if he ever decided to step out of his "resplendent hovel".

And so, for the first time in years, Shen Yuan finds himself without his typical visitors.

And he feels alone.

...hmmh.

Maybe cultivating a humanoid body wouldn't be the worst thing to do.

----

For future parts, see the Masterpost (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Masterpost

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3: here

[kitchen-spoon]

Steddie where Eddie moves into a small house in a retirement mobile home park. He is the youngest guy there and is pretty handy. All the old ladies in the neighbourhood start to talk about him when he begins to offer his handyman skills to them as well.

One day after finishing up winterizing Mrs. Harrington’s water supply to her trailer she invites Eddie inside for some tea to warm up. Winter hadn’t hit yet but it was already nippy out she told him. Once inside she invites him to come over Sunday night to join her and her friends ‘book club’. At first Eddie politely declines but once she explains to him that its all the old ladies in the neighbourhood sitting around drinking wine, smoking joints, and gossiping he’s in.

Enter Steve who visits his grandma every Sunday for dinner and sometimes stays for her gossip sessions with all the other bitties in the neighbourhood because the snacks are always great. Steve is surprised that week when the door bell rings and a hot long haired pierced man covered in tattoos is standing there instead of another old woman handing him her coat and cane. Steve sputters for a moment but then his grandmother is coming up behind him explaining this is the young man who fixed her water supply for her.

“Well um, thank you for that.” Steve nods awkwardly, watching over his shoulder as his grandmother waddled away back to her friends. “You didn’t have to come though, sorry if she twisted your arm about it, she’s stubborn.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with a small chuckle.

“It’s okay I really don’t mind.” Eddie smiled easily, inching his way into the house and Steve’s personal space. “Smoking weed with a bunch of old ladies and gossiping about my new neighbours sounds like a great way for me to spend my Sunday.” He winked.

“I- yeah it is pretty fun.” Steve agreed having not moved at all. “The snacks are always great too, you’ll have to try Betty’s blondie cake it’s always my favourite.” Steve leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.

Eddie beamed back at him, eyes roving all over Steve’s face before pausing at his lips for a second then darting back up to his eyes. “Lead the way then big boy.” Eddie bit his lip at how red Steve’s face got, he decided to push it slipping his hand into Steve’s.

“Yeah- uh sure yeah.” Steve nodded dumbly staring at their connected hands for a moment before snapping out of it and tugging Eddie along. “Everything is set up in the living room, I just got the fire going to so it should be warm.”

By the end of the night Eddie and Steve were melted into one another on a small single seater in the corner of the room. They watched as all the ladies gathered their coats one by one as their husbands came to collect them.

“It’s sweet.” Steve sighed unprompted, his head lolled against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie made a questioning noise so he continued. “Seeing their husbands come walk them back home at the end of the night. They aren’t annoyed that their wives are giggly and a bit wobbly they are just happy they are happy and want to be there to take care of them.”

“You are a sappy stoner Steve.” Eddie teased, he moved his hand over and dropped it onto Steve’s thigh giving it a squeeze. “Can’t say I blame you though, it is very cute to see.” Eddie sighed before unsticking himself from Steve’s side and making his way to the door himself. “I better get going, no husband to come walk me home”. He blushed at the implication of his own words.

“I’ll be your husband.” Steve blurted then immediately turned red. “I mean- I meant that I uhum-“

“You can walk me home Steve.” Eddie smiled wide and teasingly. He looked his arm through Steve’s and tugged him through the door, waving goodbye to Mrs.Harrington with a promise to be back next week.

The walk was short considering Eddie was only 2 houses down and one across. They kept their arms looped the entire 3 minutes they walked, and once they reached the door Steve still hadn’t let go.

“Well goodnight.” Steve spoke first, ducking his head away. He took a deep breath then looked back to Eddie determination on his face when he spoke. “See you next week?”

Eddie smiled but shook his head, “I was hoping sooner, how does Wednesday sound?” He moved in closer his hand sliding down to Steve’s waist.

“Wednesday is great I love Wednesday.” Steve nodded frantically then cringed. “I mean I don’t actually love all Wednesday’s just this one because we are-“

Eddie cut his rambling off with a kiss. He leaned in and connected their lips, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Steve’s head.

Steve melted into the kiss, his body going lax in Eddie’s hold, “Thanks for saving me from embarrassing myself further.”

“Anytime sweetheart.”