#i'm just genuinely bemused

[overelegantstranger]

what i find confusing is the rampant dislike of purling in the knitting community. and it's like, i understand we have likes and dislikes and they're personal and that's fine. i guess to me, purling is one of the fundamental stitches, and if I was knitting in a way where I disliked it, my personal reaction would be to find a way of purling i liked better. That's not to say like. You Can't Dislike Purling, it's to demonstrate my feeling of disconnect

but I think my main confusion is that it seems "standard" to dislike purling, and so I think some of my confusion is coming from a sense of, have we talked newer knitters into disliking purling? like, to fit in you must be able to talk about how much you dislike it?

To clarify: I'm only mildly bemused by individuals disliking purling, but I'm VERY bemused by the community culture of disliking purling to the point that designers will make a point about how little purling a design has

[cherryrainn]

Adam taking off his mask around his s/o the first time and she goes absolutely berserk and tells him over and over how handsome he is

UNMASKED .

; pairing ; adam x fem! reader

; note ; he actually is so handsome i wanna kiss him

; warnings ; none

adam sat across from you, his mask concealing the features that lay beneath. out of nowhere, with a casual motion, he reached up and removed his mask, revealing his face for the first time.

you glanced at him for a moment, then quickly averted your eyes, not quite processing what had just happened. but as you looked back at him, it hit you like a bolt of lightning – adam's face was exposed, and it was, well, unexpectedly handsome.

"huh," you muttered, your jaw slightly slack as you took in the sight before you.

adam, oblivious to your turmoil, raised an eyebrow. "what? somethin' on my face?"

you shook your head, finding your voice as excitement bubbled up within you. "no, no, it's just... you're really, really handsome. like, why were you hiding this?"

a bemused smile played on adam's lips. "i wasn't hiding anything!"

but you couldn't let it go. "seriously, though. i mean, come on, you should've warned me!"

adam, caught off guard by your enthusiastic reaction, couldn't help but smirk. "well, babe, not everyone can handle the beauty of the first man," he teased, reveling in your unabashed admiration.

"you're not just the first man, you're the most handsome man!" you gushed, unable to contain your excitement. "i can't believe you've been hiding this from me. do you know how unfair that is?"

adam chuckled, enjoying your genuine enthusiasm. "i dunno... but hey, I'm not complaining about the compliments."

you continued to shower him with praise, repeating over and over how handsome your man was. the revelation had sparked an unexpected frenzy of affection, and adam couldn't help but revel in the newfound adoration.

[imjustdreamingig]

Jesus, what's a girl to do?

Part 1, Part 3

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Robin meddles, Steve is clueless, and you're freaking out. So a regular day.

A/N: i genuinely have no idea where this came from, i legit posted the first part like 2 years ago. but I guess I want to start actually writing more? idk! we shall see. anyways, this fic stems from my (occasional) exhaustion to shy!reader and i'm basing this more on how horrifically i acted around the guys i would like even tho i consider myself an extrovert. enjoy whatever this is??? and lmk if u want a part 3! also this is not proof read so bear w me

warnings: sfw, swearing, uhhh i think that's it???

You were screwed. Absolutely, terribly, fucking screwed.

You were also very angry at your mother, giving her a glare every time she glanced your way at the dinner table. She merely gave you a wink in return, not understanding the true implications of her actions.

"So, Steve," your mom began as she cut a bit of the chicken on her plate, "you play basketball, right? Is that something you want to keep doing in university?" This time, you openly stared at your mom, trying to telepathically convey that you would literally kill her if she kept talking. You haven't made up your mind if you're joking or not.

Steve cleared his throat, "Yeah, I do, I'd say I'm pretty good at it, too. Wherever I end up going, I'll probably join their team for fun." He turned to you after taking a bite of his meal, smirking. "You like basketball too, right?"

You choked on your water, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. You looked at Steve properly for practically the first time that night, but your voice never wavered. "No, not really, why?"

He turned back to his food, amusement gracing his voice. "Well, I see you and Robin sitting together at every game, even the away ones, so I just assumed." If your face could sport a visible blush, you knew it would be a bright red, hot, mess.

"Well, I- I get dragged by Robin because she doesn't like sitting alone or going to random schools by herself like, half an hour away. Do you even watch the news? Girls by themselves are basically the perfect bait for random kidnappings and stuff, especially girls in high school, like I mean the statistics for-"

"Y/N" You're rambling is halted by your mother's voice. Steve is looking at you in bemusement. You are contemplating death. The situation is not looking good.

"Could you grab me some water from the kitchen, with ice," your mother said with a strained smile, holding out her glass. You grab it and push your chair out. "Sure, yeah," you replied. As you made your way to the kitchen, your mind replays the last hour of the events that have transpired, wondering what you could've possibly done in your past life to deserve this.

How could your own mother, the woman who birthed you, ask the hottest guy in your grade if he wanted to stay for dinner and not consult you first, all whilst knowing you had the most ridiculous crush on the guy.

Betrayed by the ones closest to you. This is probably how Julius Caesar felt.

After overcoming your initial shock, and lets face it, mortification of being paired up with Steve for your English project, you attempted to the best of your abilities to push down your feelings and remain professional in order to actually work on the project and make sure you got an A. Your grades would not suffer over a stupid crush on a stupid boy, that's where you drew the line. Unfortunately, this plan was not working out so well.

It was actually failing, horrifically at that.

It had been about a month since the semester started and the project had been assigned—a complex analysis of a classic book of your choice and how that particular novel has inspired the creation of others and advanced its genre. You had to write a collaborative essay to hand in to your teacher, as well as create an interactive presentation for your classmates explaining your chosen novel.

This was all due at the end of the semester and you'd be given no in class time to work on it since you had an ample amount time to work on it outside of school. It would also replace the need for a final exam, which was great news. When your teacher had explained the project, you were ecstatic, knowing exactly what book you wanted to do: Pride and Prejudice.

Then, you remembered who you had to do the project with, this huge, daunting, complex, project, where you would need to interact with your partner in close proximity for an extended period of time. You felt faint.

Steve, in his defence, had tried to approach you on multiple occasions to try and figure out when you two should meet to try and start the project. But, obviously, whenever you saw so much as a glimpse of him in the hallway, you would make yourself scarce.

The only time he would actually be able to talk to you was in your shared English class. Robin was beginning to go crazy at your increasingly outlandish excuses as to why you couldn't meet up with Steve after school in order to work on your project.

"Oh sorry, my mom needs my help on some stuff tonight."

"I have to take my brother to soccer practice."

"I can't today, I have an eye doctor appointment."

"My dog actually needs to go to the vet, she's sick, sorry."

"My family and I are going on a road trip this weekend, so I'm not free."

"My sister broke her leg uh— skiing, and she needs help writing stuff for school."

"Funny story, Robin has a crazy ex thats trying to get her to meet up with him again, and I have to help her slash their tires and like, do girl stuff, it's personal, so I'm not free, maybe next week though?"

That last excuse is what caused Robin to snap. She knew that Steve knew that you were making shit up, Robin has never even been in a relationship, let alone have an ex. Also, you didn't even have a sister, what gives!

You also had no clue exactly how close the pair had gotten due to working together at the video store and that she'd told Steve she was into girls. Therefore, like the great best friend she was, Robin decided it was time she intervened, for everyones sake really, but mostly yours.

"God," you sighed, "I never thought I would be so into arms, like not the huge, bulging one, you know? All veiny and red, that just scares me, hello, his are just ones that are like slightly defined, but have a very obvious outline of muscle, like I can tell he's strong, and fuck, his biceps, is it bad that I want to like, bite them? Because every time I look and him and he's fixing his hair I just keep getting this urge to—wait where are you going? Robin? Ok, OK! I'll stop, I promise! Come back!"

If Robin had to hear another anecdote about how you wanted to bite his arms, she was going to puke.

Your continuous blabbering about how good Steve's hair looked or how good those jeans looked on him and your inability to have one proper conversation with him or stay in the same room as him for longer than two minutes was making her go insane. She couldn't take it anymore.

So, Robin devised a plan, which one day she was sure you would thank her for—hopefully.

First, she inconspicuously made sure that you had nothing planned for Thursday night, already knowing you were free but wanting to double check that no random stuff had come up.

Then, she called your mom, who absolutely adored Robin. She told her about your situation and how if she did nothing, your infatuation for Steve was literally going to give her an aneurysm. Robin would tell you that she wanted to hang out Thursday night so you would get ready, but instead of her showing up, it would be Steve.

Not surprisingly, your mom agreed to Robin's crazy plan. She thought it was about time you got a boyfriend. You had already talked about Steve so much to her anyways, but any time she would tell you to just try talking to the guy, you vehemently refused.

"Mom, are you insane, I'm not going to do that," you scoffed as if literally just having a conversation with another person was the most insane idea in the world.

"Mija, how else are you supposed to get to know people if you can't speak to them? Besides, you never seem to have a problem talking back to me whenever we have an argument," you mom shrugged as she continued folding the laundry you were helping her with.

"Oh come on," you sighed exasperatedly, "that's not the same thing and you know it."

"I'm just saying, by the looks of it, I don't think I'll be a grandmother."

"Mom, what, hello!?"

Getting Steve to show up at your house was easier than Robin thought. She conveniently told him right before the beginning of their shift on Thursday that you'd told Robin that they should all get together at your house to finally get started on the project. Robin smiled a bit wider than necessary when Steve enthusiastic agreed to go.

When Robin gave Steve your address and told him that she would be over a little later because she left some stuff at her house, that no, she didn't need a ride and that no, she was fine walking, Steve was none the wiser to her actual plan.

As Robin saw Steve pull out of her driveway and making his way to your house, she gave herself a mental pat on the back and started thinking about what movie she should watch after dinner, knowing that the school day tomorrow would be very entertaining.

When Steve rang your doorbell, he was still clueless about the real intentions of Robin's plan, but when you opened the door and he saw your eyes go wide and your mouth drop slightly open, almost as if you weren't expecting to see him, something clicked in his head.

This was going to be fun.

[eveningepiphany]

pirates gold, H.S series part 4

series masterlist

my masterlist<3

summary: another day on the ship with your captor turns into him teaching you a thing or two about the pirate life. but as controversy’s of your past come up, somehow the captain and the princess wind up back in his bed- with anything but sleep on their minds.

warnings: mentions of violence, talk of unconsensual past experiences (not descriptive!) swearing, SMUT: f!rec oral and fingering, m!rec oral with slight edging, p in v penetration, dirty talk, lots of sex, anyways oopsie enjoy

a/n: i genuinely can’t believe how long this took to write and publish. thank you all for your patience, i like to think the sex they have makes the three million year wait worth it. can’t wait to hear what you all think<3

———

Nothing can prepare a person for realising they don't know themselves as well as they thought.

There's a mixture of disappointment, shame, dread. But sometimes, deep down—despite not ever admitting it to oneself— there's can be an element of excitement.

Not always, but occasionally. There’s that moment of wonder, who really am i?

It’s a bewildering spiral of good and bad feelings, you hardly know left from right, or up from down.

Rarely did you do things for yourself purely for the sake of it. Back at home there was someone for everything, not only to do things for you, but to make sure you weren't stepping out of line.

You couldn’t experiment. No finding out who you are deep down. There was never the chance for self discovery.

Now, you’ve landed in a situation where somehow you’re supposed to be more trapped. Yet you don’t think you’ve ever been more free.

No more straight posture at the dining tables of the banquet hall, being left to sit with a cautious mouth for hours upon hours. Engage in colourless and dull conversation while you imagined freedom.

Funny to think of it now… the picture in your head. Neatly pulled back hair. A spotless dress without a hunch of what was past the waters you stared out at every night. It was like trying to explain what something tasted like, yet having never tasted it yourself.

You knew nothing of freedom.

Not until you felt the sea nearly swallow you, the wind whip your hair a mess, the heart in your chest pounding as you ran out of Sintir— a place you’d only ever seen on a map.

Indulging in late night caressing with a pirate, something that selfishly bled into early morning, in his own bed. Hands on bare skin, hands in hair, hands wherever they could feasibly touch without crossing some sort of invisible line. Definitely not something that would’ve flown back in Kelna.

Yet that is exactly what you did a few days ago, and your head has been a complete mess since. After you stooped as low as to beg the Captain of this very ship to stay with you, he did just that. For how long, you dont even know. Long enough a crew mate of his was rapping his fist upon the locked door, calling out in bemused annoyance.

“You're either so hungover you cant move or tied up in there by our supposed-to-be prisoner.”

The heave of his chest underneath your head is ingrained into your memory. A strong huff, perhaps annoyed, but something you hope was from sadness. A regret for having to leave at any point, for not being able to stay forever.

"Free of any ties, Tanner. Just... tired." He calls back, tone rather harsh.

You'd moved yourself off him, "I'm embarrassed i didnt think to do such a thing."

The quip lacked all venom it used to, and you scolded yourself internally. You were screwed.

---

The days since were as bipolar as the weather at sea. You craved him, his touch, his voice of silk. It was like a drug. But you knew better for yourself.

After the hangover wore off, and the reality of what you had done set in. You forced distance between the two of you. He saw it coming, even he played along with it.

You two never stopped the game. You just went from a chess piece on his board to being the person opposite him.

Meant to be playing to win.

Up on deck, now the sun has come back out, everyone is saying the good weather is to return from now. Unsure whether to trust it— like many other things on this ship. You keep your gaze trained on the distance, where the waves ripple and swell. There is still a gusty wind, but the sun is hot on your skin.

Slowly, you chew on the fish roll you made in the kitchen with Zayn. He is a gifted cook, you on the other hand, are far from it. Used to it ‘being done for you’ he'd scorned playfully.

He'd shown you a few things this past week, stuff you feel envigored learning about. Knowing how to live independently for yourself is freeing, just as you knew it would be.

Wiping the crumbs off the sides of your lips with the back of your hand, you wonder how you are to go back to living the way you used to.

Before you could spiral into that rabbit hole, someone interrupts.

"Y/N." Harry said, his tone unreadable.

Tearing your gaze from the far horizon, your eyes met his.

The purple silk top covering him today has a typical amount of ruffles for a fashion heavy pirate. He looks tragically good in purple.

"Yes, Captain." You kept your own voice level.

The past week your walls have gone back up, albeit, haphazardly. You still struggled to stay on your side of the bed. And the few brief moments the connection between the two of you has festered in the air, and you’ve allowed it to linger.

Or better said, the moments you didn’t have the strength to resist it.

Like brushing past him in the kitchen yesterday, his hand coming to your waist as you attempt to squeeze through the gap. He wasn’t holding you, but you stopped dead in your tracks.

For but a second you both sucked a breath in. No longer than that, and then you cleared your throat and pushed past him.

Either way, he's noticed it, obviously. Feeling like he should regret the night after taking you into Sintir. But he selfishly cant.

He can’t regret it when the sensation of your skin is burnt into the pads of his fingers. No part of him is strong enough to forget the way your body felt pressed against him, leg thrown over his waist and curled into his chest.

Yet, despite all of that, back to the game you both went, head first. Your bickering was more contained, but his title of mean pirate was attempted to be restored in your mind.

Maybe he couldn’t forget the imprint of your skin against his, but he did love a good game.

Who was he not to feed into that?

A chuckle rumbles in his chest, “Captain, aye? We back to that are we. Two can play at this game Princess.”

The name makes your stomach stir, a small punch of adrenaline tingling in your limbs. How far can you push this before someone gets hurt?

He leans down to you, the blouse is loose on him and falls at the front. He’s eye level with you but your gaze locks onto the view of his chiseled chest between swirls of purple fabric, the tattoos you can vividly remember tracing with your fingers.

His tan skin is glistening between his pecs… a light sweat over him, making your mouth dry.

Suddenly his hand lifts your chin, “my eyes are up here, dove.”

“Don’t be disgusting.” You scoff, despite being caught in the act.

“What is it you want. Why are you pestering me?”

“Such a princess thing t’say, that im bothering you. You’re on my ship, need I remind you.” His fingers tap your cheek with a smirk.

“Need I remind you, that’s not to any choice of my own.” Your voice is indignant, and you pull your chin from his grasp, turning your face away with a scowl.

He’s pressing your buttons, winding you up exactly the way he knows how.

“Well, I haven’t heard much about how deeply y’long to be back home.”

It works a charm, because you’re quick to snap back at him.

“That is none of your business. And frankly I would rather keep that matter to myself than share it with the people who are responsible for kidnapping me.”

He loves hearing your accent when you argue like that, the pompous royal tone returning briefly to you. So stuck up, said always like a challenge.

Letting out a breathy laugh, his hands suddenly coming to under your arms. He hoists you off the floor like you’re but a parcel of feathers, standing you upright.

“Won’t you leave me be!” The raise in your voice causes a few crew to turn their head at the scene.

“‘M trying to make y’useful ‘round here.” He chides, his hand snakes down to one of your wrists, a smirk pulling at his lips.

The feeling takes you back to the first day on the ship merely weeks ago, when that was the only way you got around.

His hand wrapped around the rope tied around them.

You think back to when you threw yourself off the ship, When he swam out to retrieve you, when his hips pinned you to hull of the ship and he cut the ties free.

“Instead of jus’ leeching our supplies,” his voice draws your attention away from the tan hand wrapped around your wrist. “And laying around not carrying y’weight.”

“Maybe you can just starve me then. That way I won’t be taking away from your precious supplies.”

“So much sass on y’today,” The smirk that comes across his face is devilish, walking you over to the bass of a mast, “c’mere”

He pulls you infront of him, his chest to your back. Forcing himself not to take any notice to your figure, the white blouse covering your top half and the black fitted pants that are tight around your bottom.

“See this rope, how it’s worn?”

Your head turns over your shoulder to catch his eyes, and your heart lurches in your chest as you clock how close his face suddenly is to you. The green in his eyes is captivating in sunlight. With his captivating eyes burning into you, his mouth is still holding a smirk.

You give a swift, forced nod, but you’re not even looking. You’re pretty sure you haven’t even blinked.

This causes a laugh to bubble from his chest, suddenly he’s leaning in.

What the fuck?

Your brain is racing as his body leans towards you, and face is inching closer.

There is no way he’s about to kiss you.

Suddenly he’s placing something in your hands, and his body is going back to its original stance.

He was handing you the rope.

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and he’s surely seen the flush that’s spread across it. It’s making you overheat, and your lungs are rising up and down in your chest ten times as fast compared to just five minutes ago.

What is wrong with me?

You snap your gaze down, hoping that your hair falls enough to cover your flaming cheeks.

“It’s…” your voice falters�� great— you’re so embarrassed right now.

“Princess, has a cat got your tongue?” He chides with sarcasm.

“It’s frayed, feels weak, yes.” You nod hastily.

“Good girl,” he watches you purse your lips at his silky praise, and focuses on purely the amusement riling you up stirs in him. Not any of the other emotions that arise.

“Y’gonna help me replace it.”

“Like hell i am. Do you want your ship to fall apart?” You scowl, there is no way you can do that without something going terribly wrong.

“That’s why I’m teaching you, y’could do with a bit of hands-on work.”

Your eyes trail up to what the rope connects to, it’s holding down a part of the sail, helping to pull it taut.

“Taking this off won’t do much since we aren’t on too rough of waters, so it’s a good time t’change it.”

He steps a few feet away from you and retrieves a wad of fresh intact rope. A lot of it too, metres upon metres.

Your body remembers the sensation of it wrapped around your hands and your feet with a slight shiver.

“Firstly, we’re gonna untie and remove the old one.”

“Harry, I don’t know what im doing.” You whine, wishing to be anywhere but here, immediately frustrated.

He tuts, dropping the pile of new rope down next you both, “Zayn did tell me y’were bad at this.”

“Excuse you?” You scoff, shocked at his audacity. Slightly offended.

He steps back behind you, ushering you forward so you’re close to the metal bar that the worn tie is wrapped around.

“Told me y’don’t like being bad at things. Don’t like not knowing how to do stuff.” His voice is smug, like that is a fatal flaw.

“I—“ you’re so annoyed right now.

“I am not!”

“Y’defensiveness only proves m’point.”

You don’t even know what to say to him right now. Truthfully— ego aside— you don’t know if that’s how you get. You have gone laps around the sun without knowing this kind of stuff about yourself.

In defiance, you don’t admit this to Harry. But you stay silent as his hands reach for the knot in front of you.

“Now, princess. Look at this.”

“I’m looking.” You huff.

“Where do you think we’re gonna start untying this, what kind of knot do y’think this is?”

“I have half a clue of what kind of knot this is, Captain.”

“This is a water bowline, angel.” The words mean little to you, but your stomach does a weird squeeze at his confident words, the way his accent makes the word angel sound.

“I’m going to guess this loose end here,” Your right hand extends out, tugging at the few inches of rope that extends out the middle of the knot, “has something to do with untying it.”

He smiles at the way you’re starting to soften at the idea of what’s happening. Yes, you’re still standing tense and your tone is still veering on irate. But you’re indulging, playing along at the least.

A small sense of pride bubbles through him, “Smart girl, it does.”

“You’ll see these knots everywhere on the ship, in many different forms. They’re nice and secure, can take a lot of tension but aren’t hard to tie or untie.”

“This here,” his fingers trace a loop in the top of the knot, “is what you’re gonna pull on first.”

You grab it and he brings his hand to your waist. The action makes you flush as you try and focus.

“Fold it forward, this is gonna loosen it against the standin’ end of the rope.”

You don’t know what that means, but you pull the part he’s directing you to towards yourself, applying a bit more pressure when you see it needs it.

He hums in approval, and your lips purse together, “Now that loose end, feed it out of the wrap in the middle there.”

You do that, and he reaches forward to add tension on the upper section of the rope as you now use both hands to untie the rest of the knot— unhooking it.

“Tha’s it. Now we can replace it, and I’ll show you how to tie the knot.” He takes the old rope and figure 8’s it around a metal hold, so it’s still holding the sail.

He sees your curious eyes at his action, and explains, “We could cut it, but just incase it’s better to have it handy until y’know you’re ready to replace it.”

You nod, and he grabs the fresh rope and sets it up for you.

Grabbing your hands, he walks you through the process first himself, then he unties it to make you do it.

You curse for the first few minutes as you try to tie it properly, but once he guides you again, you’re staring at the tied knot.

“There you go, look at that princess. Jus’ tied ya first water bowline.” He comments proudly, and you can’t help but smile.

“Thanks…” you feel good, accomplished.

“I’m gonna secure it in the eyelet up there now, y’stay down here.”

He leaves you down there. All while you watch him bring the sail in, so he can reach it from the mast. Rope tied to his belt loop, he unties the old one and lets it drop.

You’d stepped back so it could fall without nearly taking you out by the head. Staring with hardly enough shame as Harry worked his fingers to create a new knot through the eyelet of the sail.

His brow furrowed in concentration, unbothered by the metres between him and the deck of the ship as he balanced entirely unsuspended.

His strong thighs are tensed as he holds himself stable, black pants look good on him.

He cut the excess rope off with a dagger and climbed down with ease. Unbelievable how good he can look doing something like that.

Once he’s back down, he walks over to where you stood and admires the new rope alongside you. You aim to pretend you hadn’t been checking him out the whole time.

Nudging you with his shoulder, “And who said princesses couldn’t learn pirate things.”

“I’ve learnt plenty of pirate things.” You state.

“So, what are you, more princess or pirate then, dove?”

With a frown your eyes slant to him, trying to search in his gaze the motive behind the question. So many tricks are up his sleeve, he never fails to remind you that.

“I’ll leave that up to you.”

His eyes scan your face, flickering over you. A tick of silence, and then he curtly nods, “Well, they say practice makes perfect, so don’t think we’re done yet.”

He intends on spending this afternoon with you, regardless of what other things he should be doing.

“I thought it was my turn to teach you something.”

“What? Like how to manage my table manners?”

You can only roll your eyes.

And to be fair, you did plenty of that as the blue sky bled into sunset.

“No, you dolt. If you picked up that fork first they’d barrate you on the spot.”

“Whatever,” he’d sighed, “I find getting your hands dirty with a good meal is the only way to eat something.”

The evil smirk on his face as he’d said that was all telling.

The two of you did both lots of thinking and lots of talking. Lapsing between periods of comfortable silence and discussion.

A part of you wondered if this was his tactic to pry your guard back down. You hated yourself for letting it work, the fact you somewhat allowed him into the works of your brain again.

After finishing the last rope he wanted to replace, you’d stretched out your shoulders.

"Do y'feel accomplished?" His own arms reaching above his head.

"I feel productive, which is rare that happens.”

He starts walking in the direction towards the communal quarters, in presumption that you'd follow.

You do just that, wasting no time matching his pace.

"Thanks. For showing me." The words are hard to push pass your lips, they're clunky and almost shy. But they pack the same level of meaning.

He stops the few steps in front of you, right next to the wall of the communal quarters. He turns around so his full front is facing you. The sun has dipped below the horizon of the sea, the warm golden hour glow sinking with it.

Now it's lingering in that space of inbetween, where it’s not quite dark, but not light enough to class as sunset still.

You can almost relate.

His green eyes have pinned you to a stop as well, your hands falling to the front of your white blouse. The wind is toying with the loose material, gently, your fingers ring the ruffled bottom that cuts off midway down your ribcage.

He's been forcing himself to hold his eyes strictly to your face, not anywhere near the sweetheart neckline thats dipping to show the swell of your chest.

Can’t believe I bought that for her and thought I’d be able to not stare, he thinks internally.

"You dont have t'thank me." He answers truthfully. Despite the fact he may have mocked your lack of gratitude he wholly believes you did him a favour today.

"You showed me how to do something. Something useful, and practical." You remark cautiously, watching your tone doesn't give away too much sentiment, "I cant tell you the last time i've had that."

"Y'can read right?" he chuckles, stepping forward.

"I went to school Harry."

His eyes rolled playfully, finally breaking off you, making you feel like you can suddenly inhale again.

"What do they even teach you there."

"Table manners, exactly the knowledge I so kindly imparted on you earlier." you dryly joked, despite it being entirely true.

"How to talk, how to act, what to do, what not to do." You sigh as you think back on it, walking to go lean against the wall.

"Ooo” he hums, intrugied, "what not to do?"

You prattle off the first ones that come to mind, "Dont get caught lying, it brings dishonour. Dont curse, it displays immaturity and impurity,” a pause, and you scoff— one drilled into any royal in the court, “dont engage in any premarital relations."

His pupils are the only part of him that reacts at the mention of the third rule you listed, they dilate and almost shake with the intensity he’s staring at you with.

A shrug of your shoulders, "That one gets surpassed all the time though.”

At your words, his brows twitch, he thinks you're talking about yourself. The look that passes over his face is unmissable. You can't pinpoint the exact emotion, and honestly, neither can he.

You are old enough to make your own decisions, he reasons. Old enough to decide if you want to...

His brain crafts a million different scenarios. They flash past faster than he can keep up with. Lingering heavily on whether or not it was consensual.

You had spoken about how men in Kelna acted around you. Whispering disgusting things, touching you. He thinks they’d be people similar to Garret, dirtbags who would’ve forced anything if they wanted it bad enough. The thought makes him livid, to his very bones.

"You look worried." You comment ambiguously, toying dangerously with the curiosity surrounding his reaction.

When he doesn’t reply, you take it a step further,

"Does my value decrease if i cant be labelled as a pure, untouched little angel?" Your tone is sarcastic, but the second the words fall from your mouth, he reacts.

His whole body tenses where he stands, and he steps closer to you.

"Y/N." A stern but bordering protective voice comes from him, a way he’s not spoken before. "Do not ever talk ‘bout yourself like that on this ship, or I swear..."

His throat tightens with anger, voice faltering and eyes fluttering with tension. A hand grabs the wall you're standing near. Knuckles white as his fingers dig into it, "I swear t’god, it makes me want to break something."

"If somethin’ happened to you in that fucking ring of psychotic royals—” He spits it out like the thought disgusted him, “You're a human being, not a slab of meat."

It’s not often he feels the need to genuinely punch something. Someone. But right now anyone that has ever done something to you is on his immediate black list.

In the back of his brain, he recognises that in your eyes he’s equally a bad person for what he’s done to you. He stands here a hypocrite.

Furious at anyone whose ever hurt you, yet being the very person that’s holding you somewhere against your will.

The tension rolls around in your stomach, almost making it ache with the sudden anxiety. You’re so utterly confused with how to feel in this situation you force your mouth to move,

"For the record, i was not talking about myself." The clarification comes out meek despite trying to keep your tone unbothered.

He doesn’t attempt to hide his feelings, face contorted into a sneer, “Wouldn't put it past those pigs."

“No one did that to me.” You amend again, this time, your own tone stern.

“Alright Y/N, what did they fucking do to you then?” His question forces you relive every unwanted advance you’ve had to uncomfortably sit through.

Every ‘accidental’ hand placement, every provocative comment directed to you, every situation that made bile from your stomach rise into your throat.

Somehow, you find it in you to argue back, even though you don’t believe Kelna is even a shred better than a ship of pirates, "Its not like im safe in your world either."

It’s clear this is his tipping point.

The heart in his chest clenches and his body is moving before he can register it.

Because suddenly, the space surrounding you is being entirely filled, he grabs you with his hands. There’s not a sliver of violence in it at all, but it does make you jump.

Regardless, he sinks his hands into your hair. He can’t help it, curling them gently into the soft strands at the nape of your neck.

Despite how pissed he is, his touch is nothing but gentle.

It causes you to shudder, unsure if it’s out of unease or somehow a little bit of pleasure— the feeling his ringed fingers graze across the nerves that typically lay behind your hair untouched.

They ping around in your muddled brain, electromagnetic signals making you light headed. It’s overwhelming, how did this even happen?

Even with the soft touch of his fingers, the look behind his hard gaze makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

“I…” you try to make words, yet nothing comes out. Hands against skin are all you can make sense of.

It’s tangible, they’re there. If your strip everything else away, it’s just someone holding you.

Someone touching you softly. Someone who you—deep down, no matter how hard you try to feel otherwise—are okay with touching you.

You can swallow that pill. If only you could make it that simple, of course.

“Harry.”

One thing he’s learnt since having you around is that he can’t handle the way his name sounds when it comes out of your mouth.

Especially not with that whined tone. When it falls from your lips like a plea.

He can’t seem to find the words either. Your feet are planted between his and your own hands are braced on his hips.

“Dove, y’can’t keep bloody doin’ this to me.”

“I’m not doing anything to you,” his hands slide to your face, they cradle your cheeks, “Harry im just standing here. I’m telling you the truth.”

His face feels so close to yours, you swear you can feel the breath that passes through his lips meet your own.

Intimate almost, if you think about it hard enough.

“I don’t care about that, I care about you.”

“You can’t do this to me!” You whine, pushing his hands away, stumbling back. Breaking that connection by force if you have to.

You don’t remember how you ended up like this, with your blood pulsing in your ears and your chest heaving so hard your ribs could break.

Exasperated, “I am fine! I am okay!”

He is at a loss for words. You are so complex, so intricate. His curiosity for you deepens, even when he thinks it can’t anymore.

“I do not need any kind of pity, there is nothing to pity!”

“They made you not trust people.” He says with disgust.

You cant believe he can say that when he literally kidnapped you. And although he’s right to a degree, this experience hasn’t been great for your trust issues either.

“This world made me not trust people.” You gesture out to the ship around you, in sheer disbelief, “I’m standing on a fucking boat in the middle of nowhere because nothing is okay!”

Yelling against the wind, “Because the only thing people care about is themselves, and what they can gain from exploiting others.”

“I am a fucking object to everyone I’ve ever met.”

A part of his heart cracks hearing this, he has to physically restrain himself from stepping closer to you.

Space, give her space, his brain urges him— despite his physical body begging to do the opposite.

“Y/N,” his voice attempts to stay level. He watches your reaction.

Like a timid yet fired up animal, your hair is being thrown by the wind, pupils wild.

“There’s nothin’ i can say that will justify any of this. I know tha’.”

“There’s not.” You snapped, eyes threatening an emotion you can’t imagine letting out around him.

Crying is another thing frowned upon in the court, not unless the circumstance is so dire it warrants it.

You think for a second that you’re going to have the strength to pull yourself together, but suddenly, a wet and salty tear slips past your waterline.

The humiliation inside you that followed the single tear that just slid down your cheek would be enough to crush a grown man.

You knew he’d seen it, your face is flaming with embarrassment.

“This— this conversation is over.” You curtly reply, voice worn as you force out a tone reserved for Kelna.

The way you’re speaking to him like an associate causes him to move, “Y/N, stop—“

But your feet are suddenly moving, “Do not follow me.”

The warning is clear, he hesitates into a stop. Debating what to do.

Give you space or force you to stay in his company?

The conflicting thoughts on his face are clear.

Yet he swallows, and nods.

Then you turn around and walk away.

———

He forced himself to wait an hour. An excruciatingly long one.

After he watched you walk away, he went into where his crewmates were. Predicatably, they were sharing pints and throwing darts. The room was warmly lit, filled with chatter that echoed inside the dark wooden walls. A few of the boys asked where you were as Harry passed them. He could only lie.

“Tired after working.” Was his chosen reply, hoping now was the time more than ever that the crew just took his word for something.

“Probably the hardest she’s ever worked aye?” Tanner drunkenly joked to him, patting his back and throwing another sip of beer back.

Harry had to refrain from shooting him a look. Despite it being something he’d likely say himself, right at that moment, all he felt was worry for you. Even a shred of defensiveness, but that’s a feeling he has to shove down for the moment.

Making way to the cupboards that held their fair share of staple pirate beverages, he pulled a metal flask out and leaned against the bar top.

He forced himself to act as though he was unbothered, and that he was interested in the games of darts unfolding.

However his brain was heavily preoccupied,

Is she okay? Did I do the right thing letting her have time to herself? Is she mad at me?

Questions ran on loop, running a hand through his curls he struggled to reason with himself.

A hand was placed on his back, that interrupted his spiralling thoughts as he sipped at the flask of whiskey. A short sideways glance revealed his blonde haired crew mate.

“Y’seem off.” He quietly remarked.

Niall, often unserious, was surprisingly good at knowing when something was up. And even better at handling it discretely.

Due to that, Harry let out a short sigh through his nose before admitting a shred of truth.

“May have struck a cord with her.”

“Go too far with something, mate?” He asks quietly, curiously.

“No,” he frowns, unsure if he’s insinuating something else, he quickly clarifys, “was talking about the courts, got her upset.”

Niall’s blue eyes dart to meet his captains. Allowing a curt nod before looking back out to their crewmates that are fake tackling eachother over a stolen swig of beer.

“Y’checked on her yet?”

“Givin’ her space. She’s not too happy w’me at the minute.”

He lets out a light snort, “Good choice. Unless she’s thrown ‘erself off the ship, then t’was a bad one.”

“Ha-ha.” He fake laughs and rolls his eyes at Niall, taking a moment to swallow down the anxiety that’s built in his throat.

He can’t avoid stressing about you.

After a few ticks of silence, Niall clears his throat,

“Jus’ careful wit her. For both your sakes.”

He adds on with a pat on the back, “here if you need cap. It’ll be alright.”

Anyone else he would’ve been annoyed for saying that, but Niall is probably wiser than Harry himself. So his advice is taken with gratitude.

“Thanks mate. I’ll be careful.”

After another half hour, he’d had enough of the ill feeling that stirred in his stomach.

He left the room to find himself outside in the now cold but still windy air. It took a second for his gaze to adjust to the darkness, immediately scanning the deck around him for you.

Without any sight of you, he checks all the places he can think you’d be. His room, the cells, the kitchen.

His heart doubles in pace every time you’re not in a place he thought.

Coming out of the kitchen, his quickened pace. Starting to walk along the deck that leads him along the perimeter of the boat.

As he gets closer to the stern of the boat, he feels genuinely sick.

What if you had—

“Y/N!” He gasps without any thought the second his eyes spot your silhouetted frame.

You’re leant against the edge of the boat, staring out into the black water that swirls beneath the ship. He thanks the stars you’re not in it right now, given he was starting to think the worst of the situation at hand.

He doesn’t give you any time to talk before his long strides are invading your personal space. Warm hands coming to your cheeks, turning them to inspect your face for any damage, as though you are some kind of treasure to him.

“Im sorry.” He immediately begins.

“I shouldn’t have pushed m’luck.”

Your eyes scan his, taking in his face as his hands have come to rest in the crook where your neck and shoulders meet.

You still haven’t said anything, which isn’t working in his favour because his words are filling the silence, becoming more risky with each passing second.

“Jus’… the idea of something like that happening to you made me…” his thumbs stroke upwards along the valley of your throat subconsciously, “makes me fuckin’ sick.”

Your lips part as he begins to spill things he probably shouldn’t. Swearing that he can probably feel your pulse in your neck where his fingers lay.

He can’t stop now, “hearing you talk about y’self like that, like y’an object... I know I am no better than any average person in the Kelna courts for what I’ve done to you. But I promise you that I’d take a dagger to my own hands till there was nothing left of them before I ever let something of that nature happen to you…”

A deep breath and he shakes his head, “Not without your permission, darling.”

He doesn’t even care what that’s insinuating. Never does he want you under the impression he has control of you in a sexual regard.

The thought of you even believing that made him sick.

The air around you feels pressurised, and it’s like you’re about to spill even more out to him.

“I am being held captive, yet I’ve never felt more fucking free. How fucked is that?”

He is silent to your admission, shocked into it almost.

“You don’t understand how it feels to go from having to watch your every move, every word, just to stay alive. You are loved with conditions.”

Your voice suddenly heavy with anger again, “People cannot be trusted, everything is always two-sided, no matter what they say to portray otherwise.”

His hands have slipped from you, you’ve started pacing the deck and throwing your own hands out as bouts of sheer outrage wash over you.

“Here, god— you’re atleast half fucking honest with me. I don’t have to conform to any stupid rules to how I speak or sit or dress. I can swear at you, and you only raise the stakes.”

He can’t really fathom that you’re not speaking less of him. That you’re admitting that the life you lead on the ship as a hostage is better than as a princess.

“And I go against every promise I made to myself when I woke up here. I would let you do anything to me, Harry. Do you not understand that? How hard that is to live with everyday?”

“y’implying a lot right now…” he answers.

“You have my permission!” You spit out, pissed off now. At him, for being so charming and handsome that you’ve wound up as the lamb that fell for the lion. And pissed at yourself for being so unable to halt your snowballing emotions for him.

You’re self aware enough to know you’re an idiot, yet you’re still in the same position nonetheless. You’re also going to blame it your lack of education on how to handle sexy pirates that kidnap you for ransom money.

All the same, you’ve come aware that you’d let him do anything to you. You’d do anything to him.

God forbid the day you would do anything for him.

You’re terrified because whether or not this is some kind of fucked up situation of Stockholm Syndrome, you’re too deep in it to turn back now.

“Fucking Jesus Christ…” he curses to the sky, stepping towards you where you’re pacing.

“I hate you, you know! For putting me in this position.” You point at him, stating with contempt once you lock eyes.

“Y/N. Stop.” His voice has dropped several octaves. The wind has urged the curls that usually sit pushed back to fall over his eyes and forehead. Standing over you, his gaze is pinning you to the spot.

His brows are furrowed in an unreadable expression, but you don’t care. Right now, everything you have is about to go on the line.

“Stop what? Telling you that there’s something going on with me— with us here?” You gesture between the two of you.

“Am I meant to tell you that I—“ His hands come to your waist and urge you backwards against the edge of the ship.

The low of your back is pressed into the wooden beam, something you should be scared about realistically, but his hold around you is tight.

“Don’t fucking say it.” He says, “whatever you’re about to say, keep it to yourself.”

“Can’t handle the truth, Captain?”

He tips your chin with his hand, bringing your head on an angle to look him in the eyes, “You won’t be able to handle what comes after that, Princess.”

You’re unsure when both of your breathing became short and laboured. His panting chest made your head physically spin.

“What? Are you gonna put me down in the cells, hang my by the chains on the walls?”

His exhale stutters out of parted lips, “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Ignoring your problems does nothing, Harry. They keep getting bigger while you hide from them. Out of sight out of mind doesn’t work the way you think it does.”

Your frustration easily spreads to him, pushing him closer to a point neither of you can come back from.

His hands grab yours suddenly, they wrap around your wrists and hold them tight between you both. Like he’s grasping for any element of control he has left before everything spirals.

“There is no problem here, Y/N.” He whispers into your ear, voice stern, “do not make one.”

The tension between you both is absolutely palpable, his body is so close to yours it’s spinning your senses haywire.

“So we what? Go back to your room and act like nothings going on… I go get into your bed, and I let you wrap your hands around me like it’s just— it’s just…”

There’s not even a word for it, your voice trails off. His breath hot against your ear, and his one hand still tight around your two wrists.

Fuck it, fuck this, you think.

You turn your face to his, noses bumping.

It’s like the pull between your lips is so strong it’s easier to give in than put an inch of distance between them.

Your body squirms against his. It’s making him wild, he needs you so bad it’s going to break him.

“Not doing it.” He pants out, voice so deep it sounds like he just woke up.

“Not kissing me?”

“Nope.”

“Im giving you permission.”

“Numbing your problems doesn’t make them go away. Feeding into them only makes them worse.” His eyes fluttered shut, brows in a deep frown as he holds himself back with every part of his being.

“So you admit there’s a problem.” Your voice sounds dignified.

The metaphor of your situation has taken on a nickname clearly, and you’re not sure if it’s helping at all.

You nudge your nose into his again, his head falls into a tilt. His mouth so easy to access…

A dance between you ensues. Your mouth moves forward but his moves back.

“It’s so wrong…” he whispers, tongue jutting out to wet his lips. They’re left parted open, air escaping and fanning onto your own.

“I want to rip your shirt off your body right now, how’s that for wrong?”

“if I kiss you, Y/N,” he begins, breath stuck in his throat, “I’ll never be able to send you back.”

And how wrong is it for you to admit that’s beginning to become exactly what you want.

A stretch of silence, and you finally just lean into him. The second your lips meet his, your whole body melts.

Air empties out of his lungs in sweet relief, he swears for a moment he feels so lightheaded that he’s dreaming this whole moment up.

The hand wrapped around your wrists slides off and finds refuge on your waist. A voice in his subconscious is selfishly begging your own soft fingers to touch him wherever they can.

It appears words are suddenly useless to you both, and all that’s important is the kiss that is finally happening.

The meaning behind it weighs like a tonne of bricks, yet somehow makes it all the better. It shows in the way his mouth moves against yours like velvet, kissing back into your upper lip like he’s desperate for you.

He still recalls the first time he caught himself thinking about kissing you.

You were down in the cells, playing the waiting game after pushing him one step too far. It’d been over a day since he’d pulled you out of the water you’d thrown yourself in.

The sun was hot on his skin as he thought of your fully soaked body that he pressed into the hull of his ship. He remembered looking up to your lips as he untied your bound wrists.

They were glossy with water from the sea.

As he thought about, he only could imagine tasting them. Kissing over the salt water until they no longer shone with ocean drops, but with his saliva instead.

He had to physically shake his head at himself. Blaming it on not having been laid in so long.

Didn’t take long to release that was far from the problem when it came to his unseemly attraction to you.

A deep whine sounds from your chest, drawing him back to the present, and he pushes his body as far into your space as it can. You’re physically pinned against the edge of the ship. Theres not a care in the world at the endlessly deep swell of water thats just past you.

You don’t even remember when tongue started getting involved, nor when exactly you worked up the courage to lick into his mouth.

It’s hot, so hot.

His body feels like it’s on fire, and your hands feel that tangible warmth as they slide underneath the purple silk covering his chest.

That heat isn’t just budding in chests, it’s striking hot between legs. Only growing worse by the minute.

“My fuckin’ god…” he groans into your mouth, hands squeezing the swell of your chest.

“You taste devine, angel…”

His words make you tipsy. You smile and kiss him harder, letting his hands roam your body like you’ve never touched eachother before.

Despite the nights he’s dragged a delicate touch along your back and the skin over your waist, it’s nothing compared to this. It’s like you’ve never felt him before. The way his tongue glides against the roof of your mouth skilfully, and firm yet gentle hands are palming the flesh between your ass and thighs.

He’s wasted no time roaming and squeezing every inch of your skin, even over clothes he’s desperately trying to commit it to memory. Rubbing over the swell of your ass like you’re the only thing in the world he wants this bad.

“Harry.” There it was, his name.

The way it falls from your kiss swollen lips in that same pretty plea that sends him spiraling every single time. Yet it was so, so different in this moment.

Sheer pleasure courses through him, and he pulls your leg up to bracket his hip, letting him push himself closer into you. Imagining what lay between the peak of your thighs.

Wishing to see the state of you, wondering if this situation has worked you up to the same extent as him.

You can feel him, every inch. Every hard slab of muscle is pressed into you, warmth radiating off him like rays of the sun.

“My name.” He murmurs into your lips, “Say it again.”

His kiss trails down your neck, sucking gently over your pulse before licking a stripe back up your throat. His saliva leaving a hot, wet trail behind.

“Harry, please… more.” You don’t even have to try, the words all come from your mouth like it’s your only purpose.

His prick is swollen in the black trousers he’s in, shamelessly being pushed into your thigh. The feeling, it’s like heaven. You don’t have any single other way to explain it.

He’s behind layers of clothing and he’s pretty sure this is better than any sex he’s ever had.

Your little experience with genuine sexual interactions has not stopped you at all. And reflecting on every past experience of a sexual nature, they fall incomparably flat to this.

Despite the majority of them being unwanted advances, even the few you engaged in— mostly with random strangers at ballroom parties— were nothing to this.

They took place in dim hallways and in secluded gardens, the kisses were always slimy, laced with the intention of taking anything from you they feasibly could. You always stopped it when you released you felt no desire to go further.

This, however, was happening because no matter how hard you both attempted to deny it, you both wanted it. Wanted eachother.

And this time, all you felt was desire.

Your hand comes down to suddenly cup the bulge of his cock between you. He moans at the feeling, rocking into your palm shamelessly.

“Fuck— I could come jus’ like this. Against your innocent little hand…” he curses into your neck, making your mind swirl with his lustful and dirty words.

“Tha’s no fun though.” He amends, swollen lips coming up to your ear, “Not when I could take you back to our bed…”

Our bed… your hazy brain notes, trying to commit it to memory as his tongue drags lightly over the shell of your ear.

“I could leave your hands free, so you could lace them into my hair. Pulling on it like I know you would while I lick into you, Angel.”

“Or would you prefer them bound up against the headboard? Just as we’ve always joked, all tied up. At my mercy.”

“Please… Harry.” Your whole body feels like it’s been set alight, the pulsing between your legs so intense it made your knees weak.

“Please what, dove? Or you don’t care? As long as someone is looking after that pretty place down here, hmm…”

His hand meets the fabric between your legs, both of you now rutting into each others palms.

You can’t help but whine, “it hurts… Harry. Fuck…”

He shakes his head, leaning in to kiss your lips. He can’t believe you’re so worked up you’re telling him its physically hurting you. He thought it was just him, with his cock so hard he is bordering on being in pain.

“Cmon,” he starts to pull you back, your body leaving the dangerous edge of the boat.

But you hardly can figure out how to walk, almost like a little spring doe. Knees struggling to function.

He picks you up effortlessly by your thighs, wrapping them around his waist. Your arms naturally draping over his broad shoulders, tangling into his messy brown hair.

You whine and push into his chest without any thought. Attempting any kind of friction you can, causing his to laugh. His eyes finding yours, “you’re so needy you’re grinding against my chest…”

His long legs make quick distance across the boat, out of the cool wind and through the winding halls below deck.

Thankfully not running into a soul as he enters his room with you, locking the door swiftly behind him.

The second the latch flicks in place, his lips are back against yours. The kiss is sloppy and desperate, open mouths pushing against eachother like you’ve been apart for weeks.

You’re moaning into his mouth as he squeezes your ass in the dark room. Walking over to his bed, still holding you against him as he climbs atop the mattress.

He lets your back drift down until it meets the plush comforter, but your legs still elevated by his. Ass against his thighs, and his erection tightly pushed against you.

He follows your lips the whole way down, hands rolling up and down your body, lingering against your breasts as he nicks your bottom lip with his teeth.

“This okay?” He breathes out, making sure you’re alright.

“Yes…” You nod, responding without even a second between his question.

He soaks up the feeling that swells in his chest as you consent to him. You said it without an ounce of hesitation. He’s almost feeling honoured.

“This is on your terms, my Princess… you tell me to stop and I stop.”

My. Your brain struggled to compute his possessive words.

My Princess.

You drag your hands up his back, sliding them all the way to his cheekbones.

Your eyes find his.

They lock with intensity. Green gaze piercing into your soul.

Silence ticks over between you, only filled by the panting of your breaths.

Your thumb slips down to his plump lips, pulling down his bottom one. The pad of your finger tracing over its fullness, dipping into the wetness that coats it.

He allows it, eyes fluttering at the gentle yet seductive touch.

He is so gorgeous.

When your thumb is wet with his saliva, you bring it back down to your mouth. He watches you, the action so small yet so utterly filthy as you draw your finger into your mouth. Taking it between your own lips and sucking it clean.

Once you draw it out of your mouth, you keep your big eyes looking at him, “You have my permission, Captain.”

He curses at your words, and they kick him back into gear. His body folds over yours again, meeting your lips with his— fuelled with a fever that makes his head spin.

He tastes like whiskey, and you feel simply drunk off of it. You want to drink him up. He is the warm, tingly feeling in your throat after throwing back a shot of the brown liquor.

His mouth moves down your neck again, kissing and licking as far as your clothes will allow. He gets to the very top of your chest before the fabric gets in the way. Having half the mind to just mouth over your nipple anyway.

But, it’s the satisfaction that’s to come with stripping it off of you. The very clothes he bought.

Fingers shuck the material up over your chest, and your arms lift up instinctively to help him get it off. He’s surprised to see you were without a bra.

There you lay, arms up above your head, back arched against the mattress, and your beautiful chest on display for him.

“Oh, dove… you are a work of art.” He coos, hands immediately coming to run against the soft skin of your breasts.

He stares intently in the dark, suddenly asking, “Can I light a candle?”

His voice is hasty, “I can see you, but not s’well as I would if there was a bit of light.”

“Want t’see your skin coated in that warm light,” he leans down, voice dropping into a whisper, “and so I can watch y’nipples harden when I wrap my mouth ‘round them.”

You nod quickly as you speak a desperate yes, squirming at the idea.

It would be unfair for you also, not to see his chest and tattoos while you two did whatever this was together.

He pecks a chaste kiss over your lips.

“Thank,” kiss.

“…you.” another gentle kiss.

He slides upright, struggling to tear his eyes off of you as he fumbles for a match to light the candle on the sconce mounted to his wall.

You hear the match flick alight, and the room suddenly being cast on a golden glow as he brings the flame to the wick.

Discarding of the match, he wastes no time coming back to where you lay— hair fanned out underneath you. He stands at the edge of the bed, staring breathlessly at you.

He had hummed the second he saw you—properly saw you. Your cheeks are flushed red, beautiful brows upturned into an expression of sheer want.

“Let me take yours off,” you gesture with your eyes to his own shirt, “please?”

“C’mere then.”

You bring yourself up, knees to the edge of his bed. Your hands lift the purple fabric over him, and suddenly the tan, chiseled skin you eye off so often is finally yours to freely touch.

Tattoos and muscles, fine hairs and freckles, he is the embodiment of beauty and sex.

You run soft hands over his abs, the muscles almost rippling as he feels the skin to skin contact. Throwing his head back, he groans into the tension filled air.

Hands wrap around your bare waist, pulling you flush against him, chest to chest.

He follows through with exactly what he’d said moments earlier, kissing a trail down to your breasts before wrapping his soft mouth around the peak of one of them.

Wet and hot, his tongue sucks and swirls until you’re moaning embarrassingly loud. You react like you’ve never felt someone like this before, because truthfully, you hadn’t.

Your spine arches, pushing into his mouth and lacing your hands around his neck.

He pulls away, smirking at the hardened nipple he’s looking after, while you catch your breath.

“My turn.” You whispered, and despite your legs feeling like jelly, you kiss your own way down his chest until you meet his defined pectoral muscle.

Your lack of experience doesn’t show, you’re so eager to please him it makes you only confident. You lick against the warm skin of his chest, lulling your tongue over his own nipple— something a girl has never done to him before.

“Fuck—!” He bites out, teeth clamping down onto his lower lip.

You pay some attention to it before trailing up his shoulder, sucking the skin above his collarbone. Biting against it and making sure to leave a mark.

He slaps lightly at your ass, still covered in tight black pants, just as he is.

“You are so filthy, dove.” His voice lilts, dripping with honey,

“Who would’ve known… to look at you, no one would know you’re the kind of girl that’s going to wrap her hot little mouth on any skin she can.”

“Innocent thing you are, ready to do anything, hm?”

His nose nudges yours so he can get better access to your mouth, kissing into it again.

Merely minutes since he last had his lips on yours, and it feels like the first time all over again. It strikes and stirs hot in your stomach. Making you arch into him again, pressing your chest against his.

“So needy… you must be soaked…” his thoughts spill from his lips out loud.

“Panties that I bought you are probably wet through by now, little cunt all weepy for something it’s never had.”

“D’ya want it, baby?” His sultry voice asks.

“Harry, I want it, I want you.” You plead, and he unbuttons your black pants.

The zipper is pulled down by him, and he slides his hand in between your legs. Cupping over the fabric, it’s almost hot to touch.

“So warm in there, I can feel y’clenching around nothin’.”

He rubs softly over you, and you moan out, rutting into his hand.

His lips kiss you hot and slow as he runs tedious circles over the top of your panties.

Once you’re moaning and arching into him, he slowly retracts his hand out, “get in the middle of the bed.”

You follow his instructions moving to lay in the centre of his mattress as he shucks his pants off.

He’s in nothing but boxers as he climbs above your legs, “No one else has ever made you come, have they?”

His green eyes lock with yours,

“N-no.”

“No one’s ever wrapped their lips around your swollen clit and sucked until you finish against their tongue? Or fucked their fingers into you until you are almost crying?”

You can’t even verbally answer, only able to shake your head side to side.

“Mm, okay,” he hums, lowering down to kiss your belly as he slowly pulls your pants down from your legs.

A smirk rises on his lips as he kisses below your navel, “Then I take it no one’s ever pushed their cock into you?”

Your cheeks were burning as you squeezed your thighs together, only in black lacy panties that he bought you.

“Alright baby,” he smirks, “look at you then, in this little pair of black underwear I got ya. Did you think about what was going through my head as I picked them out?”

“Never thought I’d be privledged enough to see y’in them.”

The warm candle highlights the goosebumps that have already prickled over your skin, each kiss he’s pressed to your bare body has made them spread like wildfire.

He takes his time to tease you, lips lulling over your lower stomach, tongue tracing the upper band of your underwear.

This continues until you’re begging him for anything, “I can’t— h— fuck… Harry.”

Your speech is slurred like you’re half awake, “Please touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He stated, green eyes flickering up to yours, face with devilish intent.

“More…” was the only word you could sigh out to him, unable to hold eye contact with him for longer than a second.

His hand comes to the back of your knee, pushing it up so your legs spread. He licks a slow, pleasing stripe against the dip between your thigh and where you want him the most.

Your hips jut upwards, and his fingers trace over your centre above the fabric covering it. As you whine wordlessly into the comforter, he tucks his finger into the edge seam of your panties. Pulling the elastic back and letting it snap back against your skin.

Not enough to hurt, but enough for the vibration to ripple through your core.

“Jus’ say the words, dove.” He murmurs, kissing over where your clit is.

“Take them off.” Your own hands start frantically pulling the sides down your thighs.

“Tha’s my girl.” He taps over where he just kissed with his thumb, laughing at your attempt to get them off, helping you get them all the way down. Tossing them over his shoulder, leaving them somewhere behind him to be dealt with later.

His eyes finally lock onto your bare body. Entirely naked.

How badly you want him is evident, and his fingers immediately move to run down your dripping centre.

“You…” he speaks, voice raspy and dripping with desire, “are a fucking angel.”

“Prettiest little cunt I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Fuckin’ hell. The things im going to do to you if you’ll let me.”

The second they glide down you, grazing over your entrance, all conscious thoughts and conscious movement disappear. Almost like a magic trick. Suddenly everything you do is automatic, like your breathing or your heart beating. You have no conscious play in it.

This includes the words coming from your mouth.

“Finger me.” You moan shamelessly, clenching around nothing as he touches you.

He almost groans at your request, “Mm, well I gotta stretch you out, hey?”

Taking a few moments to rub over you slowly, he eventually slides his middle finger into you. It glides in so smoothly. Even just the idea of his hands touching you this way has you completely melted, your back arching off the mattress as he moves in and out gently, the subtle rolling inside you enough to send you insane.

“C’mon dove, let me taste.” He pushes your legs open wider.

No part of you registers what he’s saying until his lips attach to your clit, licking over your arousal that’s spread entirely over your core.

“God!” You cry out as he flicks his tongue and curls his finger, the combination heavenly.

It’s bliss for him just watching you, the way your body reacts to every little touch he administers.

Another finger pushing into you and you’re already a mess around his hand and mouth. At whatever point he thought you couldn’t get any wetter, he was entirely wrong.

“Y’gushing around me, baby. Two fingers and you’re clenching like you could finish jus’ like this— so tight too.” His words are spoken against you, and the vibration just makes you fall deeper and deeper.

“Feel so good, Harry.” You moan out, hands finally finding his soft curls. Wrapping around them and tugging his face into you.

The scene is erotic. Pink lips against you, fingers pushed into you. Same tan arm holding onto your leg that you’ve stared at many times before.

His cock is aching while he does this to you, hearing you whine his name like a broken record as he picks up the intensity. Tongue and fingers forming a rhythm, one that quickly is building an intense heat in the low of your stomach.

Sitting up, he removes his fingers without warning as he repositions himself. You immediately miss the feeling of him inside of you, somewhere in the back of your head wondering how you’re ever going to go without the sensation.

It blips suddenly to wondering what the fuck you’re both going to do after tonight… something that would make you overthink into a deadly spiral usually. But it’s quickly forgotten about again when he rests on his knees between your spread legs, and pulls your ass up onto his thighs.

Your legs are spread open completely, he has a view of you he’s only ever dreamed of. Your wet glistening cunt in front of him, entirely his to please tonight.

You’re still babbling out his name like a mantra, mixed with a few different sighed words. Varying from “please” to “fuck” to “touch me”.

They get lodged in your throat when you watch him dip down and lick along you completely. Spitting onto your clit once he gets to it.

Fucking filthy.

You loved it.

His free hand reaches to touch your chest, rocking his tongue against you. Mixing spit and arousal together over your swollen core.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” He moans into you, flicking his tongue over your entrance.

He’s eating you out so damn well you want to suck him off desperately in attempt to thank him.

It doesn’t take long before the same hand that was pressed into your breast, tweaking your sensitive nipples his sliding back down along your waist.

“Three,” he murmurs into you, “reckon you can take that like a good girl?”

“Yea… yea!” You eagerly nod, your own hand coming to squeeze your breast, “need to feel you.”

“You are so fuckin’ dirty… beggin’ t’take more n’ more of me.”

He holds the back of your thigh as he works to push in a third finger. This one burns, you never put more than two of your own fingers inside of you. And compared to his— size wise— they don’t measure up in the slightest.

The pinch you feel is a mixture of pleasure and pain. But your body registers the sensation that feels otherworldly as you stretch around him.

“Harry!” You whine out, hips stuttering as he slowly curls his three fingers inside of you, “Holy shit.”

He moved feverishly, showing clearly how bad he wants you to come. He wants to watch you entirely unravel between his touch.

Everything is starting to build up in your stomach, the pressure twisting and clenching. Your hand comes up to your own hair, fisting through it at the intensity.

He pumps his fingers in fast, quick movements, curling them quickly inside of you as he watches in complete awe at your bodies reaction to him. Your back is arching, lips whining out beautiful sounds, a light dusting of sweat shines between your chest.

“Taking it so well,” he murmurs, leaning down to attach his lips to your clit as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

The second his tongue swirls over you, you realise you’re about to loose it.

“H-harry—“ the sheer desperation in your voice tells him all he needs to know, along with the pulsating of your entrance.

“Don’t stop…” pleading to him, “i— im gonna come.”

He smiles against you, sucking harshly as you start to squirm and pant underneath him.

“Want to watch it,” he presses a kiss above your clit, “want to watch every second of it.”

You nod feverishly, head starting to spin and body starting to feel like it’s floating.

“Are you gonna show me, dove? Show me just how good im making y’feel?” His voice is seductively low.

“Don’t want you holding back, I want to hear you.”

“Harry.” The thrust of his hand is beginning to tip you over the edge, his words only bringing you closer.

He leans his body over yours, mouth coming to kiss over you. Trailing up your chest until his lips meet yours.

The kiss is open-mouthed and desperate as you moan into it.

You want his fingers as deep as they can possibly fit into you, and you suddenly are verbalising this, “harder, deeper, please…”

“Want it rough, baby. I’ll give you rough.” He chuckles against you.

All the sudden, his pace quickens, and he’s pushing them in and out of you at a rate your brain can’t even keep up with.

The feeling of the palm of his hand slapping against your clit makes your whole body seize up, you cry out in pleasure as he talks in your ear.

“Cmon, let it all out baby.” He coos, voice soft compared to his movements.

Your moans are loud and stuttered out at each thrust. Starting to shake as your stomach tightens, “Please, please!”

His movements don’t falter for a second, and suddenly your orgasm hits you like a train. Whole body shaking as you clench around his fingers.

He even moans as he feels you finish, imagining how it would feel to have your cunt squeezing his cock instead.

You cry out his name so loud it echoes through his bedroom, all while he rocks his fingers through your orgasm.

“That’s it angel,” palm hitting your clit to make you clench again, drawing out the pleasure, “fucking gorgeous…”

“So beautiful, letting me watch your face screw up as you came all over my hand.”

“Can’t wait to have my face down there someday.”

The thought makes you writhe against him, “maybe later, hm?”

“I’ll get my tongue inside of you, play with that pretty clit until you do that all again… finish on m’face.”

He’s dirty talking you as you come down, and even when he finally draws his fingers out of you, you can’t help but want more.

Unsure if it’s just him telling you all the stuff he wants to do, or just how badly you want him in general, you realise how worked up you still are.

Not often would you orgasm and still be craving more, but right now you swear you could be doing this all night with him.

His soaked fingers run up between your chest and come to his mouth. His green eyes finding yours as he sucks them clean, humming as he tastes you.

“Fuck me—“ a sudden burst of energy comes to you, hands coming to push yourself to sit up. During it all, you’d slid off his lap and back down onto the mattress.

“Let me suck your cock.”

He’d straightened upright along with you, sitting back on his knees as he had been earlier.

His brows shot up in surprise as you suddenly had this new found energy, “baby— you haven’t even fully come down yet, just have a moment.”

“Harry.” Your gaze snaps to him, “im going to suck you off until you decide you’re going to fuck me, okay?”

“I need you to fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ.” He curses, throwing his head back. His cock is aching, and he can’t even imagine saying no to that.

“I’m gonna struggle not to finish the second you wrap your lips around me, princess.”

“You can hold it, captain. I want to taste you.”

It doesn’t take you long before you’re pushing him backwards, making his legs stretch out as you kiss him quickly.

He hums into your mouth as you palm at his briefs, squeezing the fabric over his hard cock.

You move to pull his briefs down his thighs, listening to him groan once he is finally out of the tight confines. Pulling away from his warm lips, you look down between you.

Jesus Christ.

Of course the Captain was heavily equipped.

The tip of him was flushed and swollen, you just knew how well it would fill your mouth. He was the embodiment of pure sex. Everything about him.

“Can i?” You glance up, looking at the way his plump bottom lip is taken between his white teeth.

He nods quickly, fluttering his eyes as he pictures the mental image of what you’re about to do to him. How much this is about to fuck him up.

Not having to imagine long. Your body sinks down, knees pushing back on the comforter as you half lay between his legs.

“God—“ he draws out, you haven’t even touched him, but the sight of you is enough to make his head spin.

Your bare ass and the arch of your back is all he can pay attention to as you rest on your elbows between his thighs.

“You look so…” he struggles to find the word, and the thought will never be completed. Your hands wrap gingerly around him, and although you’re unsure how to go about pleasing him, you waste no time licking along the underside of him.

“Fuck!” He spits out immediately, hips flexing upward at the touch.

Lips wrapping over his head, you just go with what feels natural, sucking the tip gently, careful not to nick him with your teeth.

“Y/N.” He sighs out your name, letting you envelop his senses entirely.

He doesn’t know how long he’s going to be able to hold out from finishing in your mouth. He’s already feeling that tightness spread across his abdomen, and you haven’t even been on him for a whole minute.

You hum around him in response to your name, hands sliding up his thighs and meeting the muscles of his chest. Selfishly you palm over the hard slabs, watching his brows furrow in pleasure as you slip further down his length.

Hollowing your cheeks you suck around him, moving up and down gently as his hand laces into your hair.

“You… your mouth is like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Could sit here all night with that thing wrapped around me.”

You revel in the idea, saliva dripping down his cock as you draw back up to having only his tip between your lips. Gently pulling off to talk, “I’d do it.”

He feverishly lets his head fall back, pulling at the hair he’s got between his fingers.

“You’d be a good girl and warm my cock all night with that mouth of yours?”

You nod as he leans down to pull your face up to his, kissing your lips without shame of where they’d just been.

He slides his tongue into your mouth, drawing across your bottom lip, “Another night baby. You wanted me inside of you, so you’ll get that.”

“A little longer on you, please.” You whine, wanting to please him with your mouth just like he had for you.

The briefs hanging onto his thighs get pulled all the way off before your body leans back down, kissing over his length and sucking harshly at certain sides of him.

Who is he to say no to you.

Licking along him, you drag your tongue over his tip before sliding your lips down him again. This time you move faster, and he is trying to keep his thoughts controlled as you fill your mouth with as much of him as you can without gagging.

“Good girl,” he moans, watching your ass rise and fall with each bob of your head.

His prick is practically dripping with your saliva, and he don’t think he’s ever felt a better feeling in his life.

So good that he can only go so long before he’s swearing, and pulling at your hair, “Fuck— Y/N I’m going to come if y’don’t stop.”

You hum around him, having half the mind to just keep going so you can taste him fully. Somehow he finds the strength to hold it off, “No, baby, take your mouth off— please.”

You slide off him with a pop, looking up at him with swollen lips.

The sensation of your mouth trailing up him had him teetering on the edge of his high, “Fuck,” his hips stuttering against nothing as his head is thrown back. Attempting to push down the feeling he was so close to giving into.

Its so hot. Watching his frown get deeper as he screws his eyes shut, all the hard muscles on his body tightening.

His hand comes to his hair as he pulls on it, the orgasm he was so close to was finally receding. You’d just unintentionally edged him.

“Y’so fucking horny.” He pants, “can’t even wait to have me inside you.”

He lifts you up by your arms and pulls you on top of him, chest to chest. You can feel his length curving against your ass as his lips come down to suck on your nipple. Licking over it harshly without mercy.

“Want you to fuck me senseless, Harry.” You moan, back arching into him as you grind down against him, arousal practically dripping down onto his cock.

“Please,” you begin to beg as he works over your breast. You can’t seem to stop the words flowing from your lips, “I want you so bad.”

His mouth moves off your hardened nipple, looking you in the eyes, sighing out a deep breath.

You search his unreadable gaze, and there’s a sudden blanket of silence that falls over you both. Maybe a hint of realisation has set in, in that what you’re about to do is irreversible.

“I jus’ want y’to be sure.” He says, sobering the intense moment.

“Think about it for a moment, okay? Just take a second.” He kisses your cheek, hands rubbing delicately on your back, “I don’t want this to be something y’regret.”

You nod slowly, pursing your lips as you genuinely take the moment to consider everything. You are about to fuck a pirate. Which isn’t even the worst part.

Still, even as you think about the situation, and all the potential repercussions, you can’t find it in yourself to want to stop.

“I know we don’t know where this is going, and we both know we shouldn’t be doing this.” You speak quietly.

He hums in agreement, his pink lips pursed as he lets you talk, “but… no. I still want this.”

“And I rarely ever get to make decisions for myself… so thank you for letting me do that.” You say, voice sounding certain.

“Don’t thank me for that, that should be your right.” He states, brows furrowed.

“Shh, let me thank you anyway.” You nudge his nose to the side, kissing him gently. Lips clicking as you both take a moment to do just that.

“I think i have condoms,” he begins.

A laugh bubbles from your chest at his uncertainty, “You think,”

Shaking his head in a sort of amusement, “I haven’t used them in a long time, dove. I don’t bring girls in here.”

“Yet here I am.”

“Yet here you are.” He hums, hoping you pick up the underlining statement in his words. You are special. Much more than just a girl he’s got in his bed for the night.

“Wanna feel you.” You whispered, implying you don’t want to use anything. And honestly, your whole body ached to feel him for the first time without a condom on. Especially since you knew it wasn’t an issue with it.

“The court mandates us to have a rod…”

He frowns, “what do you mean?”

“So I don’t get pregnant before I’m married. It’s fine it’s reversible… they can take it out. They do it to most girls incase we start fooling around behind their backs.”

“Fuckin’ Hell. I hate them.” He spits, “Always controlling other people bodies.”

“If you’d prefer to—“ the sentence doesn’t even make it out of your mouth before he interrupts,

“No baby, that’s your choice.“ His tone is entirely certain, not wishing to have any influence on your decision.

“As long as you don’t have some kind of pirate STD, i wanna feel you, harry.” You tease, but tone still genuine.

It causes him to laugh, “No STD’s here.”

“Alright, good.” You nod, mouth forming a grin, “I trust you, if you trust me.”

His green gaze searches yours, and you feel the weight of your words for a few seconds until he breaks the silence, “I trust you.”

Nodding, you bring your lips back to his. Giving him a chaste kiss of appreciation that he smiles into.

But now that you’ve committed, that sense of need is rushing back into you. But this time, it’s like the flood gates are open, your movements starting to get quickly eager again.

That gentle kiss quickly turns heated as you grind down over his length, excited he gets to feel you skin against skin.

He mutters into your mouth, “Perfect baby, every inch of you.”

Immensely tired of waiting, your voice whines out a plea, “Fuck me harry, please.”

“M’gonna fuck you, don’t worry.” He whispers, grabbing your hips and flipping you around. Leaving your back pressed into the pillows as he pulls your waist to his.

He looks down at you, hair fanned out and big eyes looking at him with parted lips. His own gaze dips to the supple flesh of your tits, inexplicably excited to watch them bounce as he fucks you.

You can’t help but take the opportunity to commit his stance above you to memory, the muscles of his tan chest and the dark ink of his tattoos. The thought of scratching your nails along his laurel adorning hips…

He can’t take you staring at him like that. He leans down to pepper kisses along your neck— finally grabbing himself, a hiss coming from his teeth as he rubs his tip along you and over your clit.

“Tell me if it’s too much okay?” He says, lining his head up to your soaked entrance.

You sigh out several words of agreement, clutching his shoulders as he slowly starts to push into you.

With how turned on you are, and his early preparation with his fingers, his tip slides into you with some ease. There’s still some tension as he pushes in, “Relax, dove…”

His voice is so deep. He’s still clutching onto every ounce of his control, praying he can hold himself together when he hears you whine as you’re being stretched out by his cock.

“I won’t last long if you keep squirming like tha’.” He screws his eyes shut, holding you still by the hips.

“Fuck—“ it feels so different to anything you’ve ever felt. He curves into you like it was fate, like every inch of him was tailor made to you.

“Deeper, go deeper please…” you beg, nails scratching at the messy curls on his head.

His brain works on overdrive to process the fact he’s the first person to ever do this to you. That you’re experiencing this with him for the very first time.

Virginity is a tacky term for him, in the pirate world it’s regarded as the best thing you can take from a girl. The way it’s treated disgusts him. But the only thing for him that’s important is that your first experience is the best he can give it, and that you feel safe— treasured even. Exactly how you should.

“Takin’ it so well…” He sighs out, finally all the way inside of you.

“Kiss me, Harry.” You say, and he wastes no time leaning down to capture your mouth.

Kissing him with his cock fully pressed into you is an entirely different experience. As your tongue glides against his lower lip, he stutters his hips inside of you. Hand coming to play with your clit as he starts to move gently.

You roll your body against his uncontrollably, wrapping your hands into his hair to pull his lips further into yours.

“Feels so good—“ you groan into the corner of his lips, the stimulation you’re getting feels like it’s coming from all angles. Like you could float away.

“You feel so good. So tight around me, Y/N.” He thrusts a little harder as he speaks, moving back down to kiss you. It’s also harder this time, both your tongues clashing against each other as he starts to build a pace between your legs.

He can feel how coated he is with your arousal, your cunt only growing wetter as he ruts into you.

“Do what you want to me.” You pant out, your body aching for anything he’s willing to give to you.

His green eyes are almost swallowed entirely by his pupils, “Fuck.”

“Can y’take it rough y’think?” He asks, nose bumping yours as you hold eye contact.

You nod feverishly, and it causes his head to throw itself back as he starts to work himself into you harder. Taking the opportunity, you bring your lips to suck against the arch of his throat.

He never wants this to end. He wants to take you like this all night. Change locations, fuck you on the floor, against the wall, bent over his bed, even with you pressed into the counter of the bathroom so you can watch it all in the mirror.

His throat is vibrating as he moans, you can feel it against your lips. You’re licking over his tan skin with your tongue, swearing you can feel the beat of his pulse underneath.

You start to loose yourself in him again, hands drawing down to scratch against the muscles of his chest as you clench around his cock. He is captivating at the best of times, even when you’re 5 feet apart you can get swept up by him.

It’s like a hold down under a wave, you can’t get up above the surface long enough to catch a breath. You don’t know what way is up or down, you’re spinning and all you can feel is him, he is the water glistening with rays of sun that fully surrounds you.

Now amplify that by a hundred and maybe that begins to cover how he feels while he’s inside of you.

Moans start bubbling out of you with each thrust, you feel him hitting that spot inside of you everytime he ruts back into you, balls slapping against your ass as he gives you himself exactly how you’d asked.

He moves his hand off your clit and grabs your hips, angling them up, pulling you flush against him. Entirely rough as he fucks into you at a slightly new angle, this on its own sends you wild.

Your back arches off the bed, crying out as he slams into you, your wet cunt taking him as deep as it allows. Squeezing around him so hard his jaw is going lax, curls on his head sticking to his forehead.

“Good girl,” he groans out, “taking my cock so fuckin’ well.”

“Knew how good this would feel. M’gonna want you all the fucking time.” Slapping your ass, he keeps the filthy words coming from his mouth, “Gonna be bending you over any chance I get, angel.”

“Please…” you nod feverishly, “Need you all the time, need your cock.”

His tattooed arm comes from your hip and runs up along your side, hand cupping your bouncing tits. Squeezing one of them, he then trails up your neck and coming to cradle your jaw. His thumb slides past your lips and presses into your wet mouth.

You don’t need him to even tell you, you just suck on it, letting saliva pool around his warm finger that’s rubbing circles against your tongue. He draws it in and out, rubbing over your plump lips and tracing a line down your chin. Eventually coming to flick his thumb against your nipple— your own spit coating it.

All of this, and you start to feel the pressure build in your stomach, of course you couldn’t last long as he fucked you like this.

“Harry!” His name started to come from your lips over and over again. Legs beginning to shake, heart racing in your chest.

“Gonna come?” he grunts out, “this sweet pussy gonna come around my cock? Drip all over it?”

You cry out as his body pounds against you, his hands guiding your hips into the movement as your eyes physically can’t stay open. You swear stars are beginning to explode behind them.

They squeeze shut as your whole body almost stops working. Your heart and lungs feel like they completely seize as you hang onto the peak of your orgasm for a breathless moment.

“Fuck—“ he hissed out, feeling how tight you’ve gone around him, “I’m gonna finish with you, cmon baby.”

His fingers come to quickly rub over your clit— a few fast, tight circles, and that is all it takes.

Your moan reverberates around the four walls of his room as you come for the second time, bouncing against his cock as your whole body writhes in your climax.

“Harry, I’m coming!” Your voice is pitched so high, half whine half cry as you state the obvious. As if he missed the fast clenching of your entrance around him.

“Fuck— fuck, im—“ He can’t get the sentence out as his cock starts to pulsate, his balls tightening as he realises he’s about to follow along with you.

He gives a final, deep and hard thrust that brings him to his orgasm. You feel the heat of his come inside of you as the movements of his hips become sloppy with each squeeze of his cock.

The strength of his climax is only amplified by you edging him accidentally earlier, he feels this in his bones.

“Yessss—“ The feeling of him emptying out in your cunt is like heaven, “give it all to me, Captain.”

“Want all my come huh, fuckin’ filthy thing?” He rasps, body hunched over at the heat still bursting through his whole body.

You both ride out your highs with eachother. Hands coming to touch eachother all over as your bodies begin to slow down. His palms skate over your breasts, and your own fingers run up and down his tensed arms. The two of you start to stop shaking and squeezing as the high of your orgasms naturally close out.

The sound of panting is all that fills the room. Breaths laboured and exhausted.

“Baby,” he says, sounding entirely out of breath, “took me so good.”

He leans down to kiss you gently, and you whine against his lips, unable to find the words for anything that just happened.

Slowly, you make out with eachother. Tongues licking gently along lips and against one another. An entirely different sort of intimacy from the sex you just had, and a silent form of a thank you as he slides his cock out of you.

He groans into your mouth as he does it, feeling sensitive as he slips out of your warmth. He pulls away to look at the state of you, something he’s not willing to miss.

The sight was something he wish he could capture forever— no matter how filthy it sounds. Your pussy is swollen, all fucked out as his come is starting to drip out of you.

You watch him stare, a prideful smirk on his lips at the mess he’s made of you. Chocolate curls over his forehead, cheeks and lips flushed a warm red, and his tan skin glistening in a sweat.

Looking at him is like looking at a painting.

He longs to lean down and clean you up with his mouth, but it’s clear how exhausted you both are, so he gets up instead— despite you begging him to stay, he kisses your forehead, “Just getting a cloth to clean y’up. I’m coming back.”

Running water over a washcloth in the bathroom, he comes back out to wipe the fresh and damp material over you. You whine at the touch, the area sensitive from two intense orgasms. Despite the dirty nature of it, it makes him smile softly.

Tending to you after he’s fucked you breathless is almost half the treat. Watching you smile back at him, how content you look. Knowing you’re safe in his company.

Once you’re cleaned up, he chucks the dirtied cloth back in the bathroom to be dealt with later, not wasting any more time and coming to lay back down with you.

“Thank you.” You whispered, now that your brain is clearing you’re becoming unsure what to do now. Do you act as normal? He senses your sudden unease like instinct, wrapping a hand around your waist and tugging you into his chest.

“Don’t be shy, y’fine dove.” He kisses you again, hand running over your side comfortingly, “just had m’cock in you, no room left for that.”

You nod into the gentle kiss he’s giving you, pressing your body to his as you feel less anxious now he’s affirming everything is okay.

As you both lay with eachother, softly touching skin, you wonder what this will change. How the after effects of this will alter the future.

You’re hyperaware standing on top of a precipice of change. Despite wishing you could act naive, and attempt to believe that everything can go back as it once was— you know that will never happen. It’s something you’re both excited and terrified of. But in this moment, with the way the captain of this ship is holding you, touching you, kissing you— you can’t help but feel like everything is going to be alright.

———

taglist:

@saturnheartz @slap-me-harry @ilovehsstuff @ameerakane20 @matildasatellite @harrysslut7 @sunflowersey @styleswiftie @anotheryoutubefanpage @straightontilmornin @oknothanks26 @closureesny @angel-upon @brother-lauren @maddie7writes @tenaciousperfectionunknown

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for the next part<3

another a/n:

wow!! so hello

mini catchup on me being absent for literally half of last year!! 2024 I was sooo busy with my studies, but you’d all be proud since I pulled some really good grades last year, so my absence in creative writing field on tumblr did have a reason and at the very least paid off. but I missed posting soo much and I’m so happy to be back. unbelievably grateful for how many messages and inboxes I got about my writing over last year as well, I love you all so much.

i literally can’t believe it’s been so long since part 3 of pirates gold was released. really left yall high and dry😔 hopefully not after this part, I swear this is the longest piece I’ve ever wrote on tumblr, so I hope you all have enjoyed it. I have plenty of plans for part 5 in my notes app so yall keep ur eye out for that.

thank you for not only reading my silly authors note, but for reading this next part. your support means the world, and I am planning on being much more active this year so get excited for heaps of oneshots and other tidbits.

much love to you all, stay safe and hydrated I’ll see you very soon!!

P.S ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS I MISSED💔 I have reread this as much as my brain will allow me the last week, I will be making edits over the next little while to fix those mistakes but hopefully there’s not too many x

[luveline]

Hey Jade! I was wondering if you could do some Derek Morgan comfort?! Maybe reader who deals with headaches/migraines?

Hope you're having a nice day/night!!💛

thanks lovely, you too!

You're pinching the bridge of your nose pointlessly when Derek and Spencer arrive that morning. 

“D'you guys do a coffee run?” you ask, surprised to see them come in at the same time. 

“We did!” Spencer says, putting a paper cup down in front of you. “I got you a donut, too.” 

“Thanks, honey,” you say, rubbing the hot spot between your brows to no results. Spencer smiles, pleased, and sits at his desk with the bag of donuts to start a napkin dissemination. 

You wrap your hand around the coffee and let it warm your fingers. 

“You okay?” Derek asks. His brows are pinched upwards at the starts but otherwise furrowed. “You don't look happy.” 

“I have a headache,” you admit. Talking is twice as hard with the pain pulsing behind your eyes; you slur. 

“What?” 

What does he mean, what? You look up from the desk in confusion, but he isn't confused like you, he's borderline upset. “It's not that bad,” you say. 

“It looks pretty bad where I'm standing.” 

Derek grabs the back of your chair and turns you toward him, his expression a mirror of your own discontent. He's wearing a short-sleeved shirt that in any other circumstance would draw your attention, and the badge clipped to his shirt is wonky. 

You're in pain, but you like him. You care about him in the weird way that makes you want to make him breakfast and tie his shoelaces. He is not a man that needs coddling, but you can't restrain yourself, reaching for his pocket to right his badge. 

He laughs quietly. “You're squinting.” 

“Pain's in my eyes.” 

“Sweetheart.” He takes your face in one hand and turns it down, away from the harsh office lights. “You're impossible to understand.” 

You laugh but wince when a flame of pain sparks anew. “I think it's travelling. It's in my brain.” 

“That's your second best feature.” 

“Don't make me laugh,” you plead. 

Morgan gives your cheek a rub with his thumb before pulling away. He takes the few steps to his desk and opens the drawer, pulling out a familiar pair of sleek black Ray-ban shades. “Here. Try these on for size,” he says, opening the arms wide. 

You close your eyes, but there's no need. Derek's extremely careful pushing them over your ears and up your nose. 

“Too sunny in here?” Kate asks, bemused as she skirts past with her mug of tea, her baby bump nudging the back of your chair. 

“Poor girl's not feeling good,” Derek answers for you. 

“Poor girl thought you felt sorry for her,” you say, staring at him through the grey lense of his shades. They're immediately helpful. You won't tell him that, though. 

“I pity anybody stupid enough to feel sorry for you, sweetheart.” He hesitates for no more than a second, dropping his hand onto the stretch of your shoulder blade gently. “You take anything for it? Aspirin?” 

“I did,” —your voice wobbles of its own accord, the instability that comes with a pain that has no clear end in sight— “but it hasn't kicked in yet.” 

He rubs your back, pressing his cheek briefly to your forehead in a side-armed hug. “Let me get you a glass of water.” 

“Morgan?” you ask, catching his arm. He waits. “Kiss it better?” 

You say it because you know he'll crack a smile. It's not nice seeing him so worried, and your headache genuinely feels a little better when he laughs. “Don't start with me. I'll do it. You know I will, beautiful.” 

You sink back into your seat and push his sunglasses up. “I'll be here.” 

He leaves to get you a glass of water. While you're waiting, Spencer passes you your donut, which you pick apart and chew on feebly. Distracted, a warm, chaste kiss is pressed to your cheek as a familiar hand places a glass of water in front of you. 

Derek wiggles his eyebrows at you, asking, “Better?” 

“I'm telling Penelope.” You wince as you turn on your monitor. “In a bit. Just as soon as this screen gets less bright.” 

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

AU where Kara is still an assistant when Lena becomes CEO of CatCo. She makes some changes but one thing Cat tells her under no uncertain terms is that a) Kara stays, and b) she's destined to become a reporter when she's ready.

I'm going back and forth on whether Lena and Kara are friends at this point, or whether Lena simply takes on CatCo before they meet. But basically I want to see Kara having to a) build new connections to get Lena what she needs and b) learning what it's like to work for somebody who doesn't treat like dirt most days.

Like, imagine her standing dumbfounded the first time she brings Lena her coffee, because Lena simply thanks her, genuinely. And then the flush of pride when Lena comments in pleasant surprise when she discovers the coffee is perfectly warm-- not hot enough to scald, but not the usual tepidness of coffee thats had to travel three blocks to get to her.

Because Cat always took those little efforts for granted, as an expectation. But Lena smiles slyly as she regards Kara anew, and says "I think we're going to work together just fine."

Because Kara worked for Cat, not with her. And that small semantic means the world. Because its true-- Cat, and now Lena, wouldn't be able to do what she does without Kara doing what she does.

And that just makes Kara want to work all the harder. She finds she WANTS to stay late when Lena does, mostly because Lena urges her to go home, and that kind of kindness is the kind that's paid back by staunchly ignoring her and sticking around anyway. And she takes extra effort to learn all of Lena's preferences and idiosyncracies, so that she knows exactly what Lena needs when she's had a meeting with that particular board member she's outwardly civil to but clearly loathes.

The first and only time Kara brings Lena salmon for lunch, she's absolutely devastated when Lena looks at it, shoulders falling. "I forgot to tell you I can't stand salmon," she says, resignedly.

Kara's eyes go wide in horror. "Oh! No, that's okay, I'll just go--"

"Please don't bother, it's my fault, I never told you--"

"It's no problem at all. Just-- wait here okay?"

As if Lena would be anywhere but her desk. But in ten minutes, Kara returns with a greasy paper sack.

"I promise, this isn't a punishment for needing something last minute," Kara says quickly. "These are legitimately the best burgers in the city, and honestly, it's the greatest gift I could ever give you."

Okay. Maybe she's laying it on a little thick. But Lena only looks at her with a bemused smile. "All right," she slowly agrees. Her eyebrow quirks. "I'm assuming you picked up something similar for yourself?"

Kara blushes. "Yeah. Can't help myself."

"Good. Then you can eat with me."

Freezing, Kara feels like a deer in the headlights. For all that Lena has treatedher as an equal, they've never eaten together in the same room. They usually eat at their own desks, working through.

"Really?"

"Really." Lena's gaze turns artificially solemn. "If I'm going to have a self-induced heart attack, I better have someone there to call 911."

Unable to keep herself from grinning, Kara scuttles to retrieve her own burger and fries from her desk. And there, together, they share the first of many, many meals to come.

[eveninggstar]

he's a car mechanic ⊹ ࣪ ˖

max verstappen x female!reader

08.08.24

୨ৎ back one page ୨ৎ back two pages

୨ৎ With your lack of knowledge for the word of Formula One, you don't realise your "cat stealing" "car fixing" neighbour is arguably one of the best drivers on the grid at the moment.

(please dont crucify me if you see this and you think max is shit im not ready to be hung drawn and quartered)

The high-rise apartment you had moved into a few months ago was everything you had dreamed of. Spacious, modern, and with a balcony that offered a panoramic view of the city, it was perfect for you and your Siamese cat, Asparagus. Asparagus was a curious and playful companion, always finding new ways to amuse himself.

You quickly settled into your new routine, working from home during the day and spending your evenings relaxing on the balcony with Asparagus. Over time, you noticed that Asparagus had developed a fascination with your neighbour's balcony. The two balconies were close enough that Asparagus could easily hop over the railing and explore the neighbour's space. He particularly seemed to enjoy playing with two Bengal cats, Jimmy and Sassy, who lived next door.

Your neighbour was often away, traveling for his job, so you hadn't had a chance to meet him yet. You only knew his name from the mail slot next to yours. You knew nothing about him other than his name is Max and he's gone a lot.

One sunny afternoon, Asparagus had once again made his way onto Max's balcony. This time, however, Max was home. He was standing on the balcony, looking down at Asparagus with a bemused expression.

"Hey there, little guy," Max said, bending down to let Asparagus sniff his hand. Asparagus, being the friendly cat he was, immediately rubbed against Max's leg, purring loudly.

Max chuckled and opened the sliding door, allowing Asparagus to wander inside his apartment. Over the next few hours, Max found himself charmed by Asparagus's playful antics. He fed the cat, played with him, and even set up a little spot for Asparagus to nap. When evening came, you began to worry. Asparagus hadn't come back yet, and you had no idea where he was.

You spent the next morning designing missing posters, ready to plaster them around the building. But as you were preparing to print them out, you glanced out onto your balcony and saw Asparagus lounging on Max's gym equipment.

"Really, Asparagus?" you muttered to yourself, quickly making your way to Max's apartment. You knocked on his door, feeling a mix of relief and annoyance.

Max opened the door, looking surprised. "Hi, can I help you?" he asked, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the worried look on your face.

"Yes, my cat Asparagus is on your balcony," you said, pointing towards your apartment. "I was really worried about him."

Max's expression shifted to one of defensiveness. "Oh, this cat?" he said, gesturing to Asparagus, who had followed you to Max's door. "I thought he was a stray that wandered in. He's been here for a day or so."

You sighed, feeling both relieved and frustrated. "No, he's my cat. I live right next door. He must have hopped over the railing."

Max looked genuinely surprised. "Sorry, I don't believe you. Do you mind?" He then closed the front door on you. The nerve!

Deciding to escalate the matter, you went to the building manager, who was a friend of your uncle. The manager knew you and Asparagus well, and he assured Max that the cat indeed belonged to you.

Max returned Asparagus with an apologetic look on his face. "I'm really sorry about that. I had no idea. I just got back from a long trip and found him here."

You shrugged off his apology. "Asparagus is a girl." You the returned the favour of shutting the door in his face.

A few weeks passed, and you continued to adjust to your new life. You still hadn't had much interaction with Max, apart from a few polite nods in the hallway. Life was busy, and you were preoccupied with work and taking care of Asparagus.

One morning, as you were trying to head out for some errands, your car refused to start. Frustrated, you tried everything you could think of, but the engine wouldn't turn over.

Max happened to be in the garage, and he noticed you struggling. He walked over with a concerned look on his face. "Having some trouble?" he asked.

You shot him a glance, your frustration evident. "if you're hear to take the piss I will gladly hijack someone's car and run you over with it."

Max halted his words as he came up next to you. He was just staring at you, taking in the features of his pretty neighbour with the adorable cat. He didn't hear your questions as you began to get more and more irritated, or even the clicking and clapping in his face. Eventually Max broke out of his beauty filled trance and stumbled for an answer. "I can take a look at it for you, if you want."

You were sceptical. "What?"

Max nodded, trying to appear confident. "Yeah, I’m a car mechanic. I can fix it up for you, free of charge."

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Really?"

Max felt a pang of anxiety, knowing he had just lied. But he wanted to make things right. "Consider it an apology for the whole cat thing." He paused looking down at his hands that had began to become both equally interesting and sweaty. "I am still sorry about that, i just really like cats! I mean Siamese cats-"

"Okay! You can fix my car." You interrupted him, dropping the useless keys into his clammy palm. Only then Max realised what he had done.

Later that day, Max called a friend who was an actual mechanic and arranged for him to come pick up the car, and then fix it, whilst he took credit for it.

The car incident became a turning point in your relationship with Max. Over the next few weeks, the two of you spent more time together. Max often found excuses to visit, sometimes bringing treats for Asparagus, other times simply to chat. You started to see a different side of him—one that was caring, considerate.

One evening, Max invited you over to his apartment for dinner. This wasn't unusual as the two of you hand never been out together-as a thing. Something you both agreed about was that staying in with the cats is much better. The atmosphere was relaxed, with soft music playing in the background and the smell of delicious food filling the air. Max had prepared a three-course meal, and as you ate, you found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn't expected.

"Growing up, I always felt like I was living in someone else's shadow," you confided, tracing the rim of your wine glass with your finger. "My older sister was the golden child, and I was just... there."

Max listened intently, his blue eyes focused on you. "I get that. Luckily for me I was the older child. My dad would teach me to kart." He paused to think of his next words. "Sometimes the conditions were a little unorthodox, but I did enjoy it. The reason I'm so into cars." He thought back to his words, hoping it dint slip of his true profession.

You looked at him, surprised. "I'm sorry," You reached over to rub his arm on the table whilst offering a sympathetic smile.

He smiled wryly. "It's all an act, really. Inside, I'm just a guy who loves speed and cats."

You both laughed, and the conversation flowed naturally, moving from childhood memories to dreams and aspirations. By the end of the night, you felt a deeper connection with Max, one built on mutual understanding and shared secrets.

As your relationship with Max grew closer, the romantic tension between you became palpable. There were lingering glances, accidental touches, and moments when it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

One night, after a particularly gruelling day at work, you found yourself at Max's door. He opened it, concern immediately crossing his face. "Hey, you okay?"

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. "I just... I need someone to talk to."

Max pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly as you let the tears flow. "I'm here," he whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

You spent the evening on his couch, talking about everything that had been weighing on you. Max listened, offering comfort and reassurance. At some point, you fell asleep, your head resting on his shoulder. When you woke up, a blanket was draped over you, and Max was still by your side, watching whatever movie that was playing on mute with subtitles.

Your sanctuary of calmness didn't last long. A flood of messages came through from your friend. Multiple screenshots of instagram posts, or twitter posts, with the occasional article highlighting your cat and car loving neighbour and yourself at the slight hint of a relationship. You scrolled through as much as you could, and found a few underlying facts.

Your face was pasted pretty much everywhere you looked online

Your cute, cat loving, car mechanic was actually an f1 driver.

And that you were lied to heavily.

You went silent on Max for a few days, avoiding his calls and texts- sometimes even the knocks to your door. When you finally looked at his messages, the most recent one stating that he had finished your car and was brining your keys back to you. His rhythmic knock sounded at the door. You cursed god that there wasn't a mail slot on your door for your keys to be dropped in as you strolled to the door.

"Hey, I haven't heard from you in a few days. Is everything okay?" he asked, smiling nervously.

You opened the door, feeling a surge of anger. "You lied to me, Max. First, you steal my cat, then you lie about being a mechanic. You're a freaking celebrity, and you never said anything!"

Max was taken aback, his smile fading. "I... I didn't mean to lie. I just didn't want to complicate things." He paused looking at you taking in the details he missed over the past few days. "Also I didn't technically steal your cat, Asparagus-"

"Did you even fix my car, Max?" You put your hands on your hips, looking at him with furrowed brows.

Max stood there awkwardly, muttering a quiet "No" before breaking into a rush of apologies. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to lie to you. I just wanted to help. It felt nice with you, being known as Max and not Max Verstappen the driver!"

You looked at him, feeling a mix of hurt and betrayal. Without another word, you grabbed your car keys and shut the door, not realizing that Asparagus had slipped out and followed Max.

Max sighed, picking up Asparagus and knocking on your door again. "Please, just hear me out."

"Go away!" you yelled through the door.

"But-"

"Max, leave me alone!"

Max stood there for a moment, feeling desperate. He needed a way to apologize and give Asparagus back. Suddenly, an idea came to him. He went back to his apartment, grabbing a notepad and pen.

The next day, you found a letter and a small box outside your door. The letter read:

Dear Y/N,

I’m incredibly sorry for everything. I never meant to deceive you. Please accept this as an apology.

Inside the box, you'll find the necklace I was going to give you when I eventually gained the courage to ask you out and tell you the truth.

I know I cant buy your way into forgetting, but I just want you to take it.

I hope we can start over.

- Max

p.s I do have asparagus, after you shut the door she came out and won't go back to your balcony

Inside the box was a beautiful necklace with a pearl in the centre, with a small note that read:

"I might not be a mechanic, but I want to be honest with you from now on. I hope you can forgive me."

Feeling a mix of emotions, you decided to go over to the apartment opposite yours. You knocked on his door, and it was opened straight away. You saw the tentative look he had.

"Can we talk?" you asked, bending down to hold Asparagus.

Max nodded, stepping aside to let you in. "I'd like that."

As you sat down together, you felt a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something real.

Please don’t steal my work, much love ᡣ𐭩

Tag list: (comment if you want to be added)

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 eveninggstar

[dorylinae-supremacy]

Thinking about an AU where Techno, Wilbur and Tommy are all the harbingers of the actual entire apocalypse and Phil (just some insane guy) decides that those are in fact his kids and starts gaslighting the absolute shit out of them about it.

Rambles under cut!

I wanna try something where they're just more insidious and passive killers than anything else, theyre mostly just biding their time and watching as wherever they're lingering around gets sicker and just starts withering away.

They're a slow moving threat that just can't be stopped and for some reason (because Kristin thinks its funny) Phil just isnt affected by them.

Phil: Oh Techno's always been like that ever since he was a baby Techno: I have literally never met you a day in my life Tommy: Idk man... you have always been like that Wilbur: Oh my death he's actually getting to us

Its a mix of that combined with that "how did he know I was a gemini" meme

Phil: Wil! I brought you some salmon, I know how much you love it! Wilbur: How the fuck did you know I like salmon Phil: I'm your dad silly, of course I'd know :-)

I just think itd be super fun since Phil in this au is literally just some insane dude. He literally lies about their entire childhood but does it so consistently and so realistically that it throws them off guard.

I also have a few ideas where they start referring to Phil as their dad in the beginning as a sarcastic / mocking thing but accidentally just getting themselves even more adopted as they do it.

Phil: Wilbur put on a coat Wilbur: I don't need one! Techno: Go on, Wil. Listen to dad Wilbur: Ugh fine. Only because dad wants it, though

Stranger: Whos this? Tommy: Oh thats our dad. He kinda just tags along Stranger: Aww thats so sweet! You got his nose and everything Tommy: I- wh- no he's not actually our da- Phil: I know he did! Isn't he the cutest, spitting image isnt he? Tommy: You're not my dad! Stranger: Oh someones embarrassed! Phil: Yeah he's going through a rebellious phase right now

Just a mixture of things like that where it starts as calling him it but then accidentally actually giving him parental authority along with that.

I also wanna explore how Kristin and Phils relationship would be like. Maybe her as death being very bemused by this silly human that just decided she was his wife one day.

She literally visits him in dreams and stuff and he just acts as if they're married and have been for years. He complains about their 'rambunctious kids' and how he has to threaten them with her so that they behave sometimes. She finds it so silly and just cant help but play pretend.

Kristin: Hello, human Phil: My love! Its been so long since I've seen you Kristin: We've never met Phil: Oh don't say that! It hasnt been that long. I've just been far too occupied with our boys to visit too much Kristin: Our boys? I made them Phil: And they came out beautiful! I'm so glad Wil and Tech got your eyes. I was hoping they would.

I think that'd be a core part of this AU as well. Everyone is playing pretend but then it just fuzzies and it all becomes real for them. At first its a joke that Phil is her husband and their father but then they get lost in the fantasy and fun of it all and actually accept him as such.

Phil has no ulterior motives either, he's literally just a strange insane man that heard stories about neotrio and started thinking they were his kids one day. He genuinely believes his delusion and they end up accidentally making it a reality.

He just makes lucky guesses and plausible lies often enough that he's still shiny and new, he's still fun to play with and thats what ends up 'tricking' them all.

[frostyhelltime]

Good morning/afternoon! Love your work so much! Could you write what reactions Vox, Alastror and Lucifer (my favorote trio haha) would have when they first realise they have feelings for someone? Like, they are not dating yet, they just got first "o sh*t" moment while eating breakfast or something.

Sorry this took so long! ❤️ Alastor's got COMPLETELY away from me and did not end up being as small as Lucifer and Vox, so I'm gonna give Alastor his own post which you can find HERE.

And thank you!! You're so kind and I hope you like my writing for this as well! I had a lot of fun so feel free to send more requests! ❤️

Vox and Lucifer Realize They Have Feelings For You

Vox x GN!Reader

Lucifer x GN!Reader

Vox

Vox genuinely confuses his feelings of love with simple lust and friendship for the longest time.

It's his possessive nature that helps him realize it's actual feelings instead of just something sexual he wants.

Plus a little ribbing from Valentino and Velvette when that possessive nature shows.

Whether you've had sex with him or not yet is irrelevant. He thinks what he feels for you is just lust, and you get along well and don't frustrate him like his cohorts often do. So obviously he enjoys having you by his side and spending time with you.

But it's Valentino's pushing and prodding that makes him realize, and as soon as he does actually realize it, he goes into planning mode.

Vox wasn't always the biggest fan of the loud club the trio found themselves at, but the music was a little quieter in this VIP section away from the crowds. Which made it a lot easier to actually relax with the drink in his hand as he listens to Valentino chatter about something he's only half listening to until he says your name.

He thinks perhaps Val hadn't noticed, but the way Vox's eyes clearly focused in on Valentino when they hadn't been before says everything, and Vox decides not to comment on the shit-eating grin the moth is wearing.

"Sorry. What did you say about them?" He asks for clarification, since all he actually zoned back in for was your name.

“They're very beautiful, no? I think I'll ask them to star in something. I already have a script that would be perfect for the-” Val is about to continue talking about it when Vox immediately snaps, posture becoming rigid as he speaks before he can even realize what he's saying.

“Fuck no Val.” His face has a look of genuine disgust and the visceral way he responded even has Velvette looking up from her phone for a moment, especially after hearing the distortion in his voice. She's eyeing him to try and figure out what the reaction was for.

Valentino only blinks a few times as if processing actually being told no, and then trying to figure out why. But as soon as it hits him the befuddled expression turns to one of delighted bemusement, snickering as he grinned saliciously at Vox.

“Oh~ I didn't realize you had a little amorcito you were hiding from us.” Valentino sounds so smug as he uses his long cigarette to tilt Vox's face up to see him better. Velvette just snorts a laugh, putting her phone down fully now. This was far more entertaining.

But Vox still didn't get the memo yet apparently.

“Amor…? What. No. We're not dating. I have no idea what you're talking about but you're not asking them to star in one of your flicks.” Vox says concretely even though he's very confused by Valentino's suggestion, pushing the cigarette away from his face in annoyance. Velvette just raises an eyebrow, locking eyes with Val as if to silently ask if their companion was truly this dumb. At least in this area. Val just shrugs and Vox watches this silent exchange, just becoming more vexed by it.

“What?! I can't say someone is off limits?!” He's quickly getting annoyed by the way they're both acting.

“Oh no no. You can ask for someone to be off limits….but no one asks for just anyone to be off limits.” Velvette explains, trying to lead this horse to water, trying to coax his line of thinking in the right direction.

“Well duh. They're great company and I don't want Val or his people ruining that.” Vox says coolly, trying to reel himself back in to maintain his composure.

“Oh, so it's just Val and his lackeys you don't want being intimate with them? Then it should be fair game for me to throw my hat in the ring, yeah?” Velvette asks, tilting her head cockily, a knowing smirk on her face. She didn't actually want to pursue you. She was just baiting him.

"We'd be the cutest couple on Sinstagram don't you-"

But Vox is immediately snapping, taking said bait without even realizing.

“No!”

Another, heavier voice distortion colors the word.

“So it's anyone being with them that pisses you off? That sounds like a genuine crush, not just ‘great company’, campañero~” Valentino takes another drag of his cigarette before taking another sip of his drink, adjusting the busty demon currently sitting on his lap to be his eye candy and thing to squeeze tonight.

Said demon is pointedly avoiding all of their eyes, as if to silently tell them she doesn't hear shit and she won't be repeating anything she hears herself. She values her afterlife enough to know to not mention this to anyone.

Vox’s expression goes through multiple stages, indignation, surprise, confusion, amusement, disbelief, annoyance, and eventually…

“...Holy shit.” He eventually whispers leaning back in his seat, eyes wide as Velvette claps.

“Theeeeere it is! Knew you'd get there eventually.” She snickers, as well as Val, both ignoring the pointed glare Vox was sending them now.

He's not even going to bother dignifying it with a response. He wouldn't give them the pleasure.

For now he just leans back further, grumpily folding his arms and continuing to sip his drink as he thinks.

Now that he's aware he can figure out what to do. Like there is anything to figure out anyway. He's charismatic and rich and powerful. What sinner wouldn't want to be the one to earn his affections? With that certainty in his mind at least, he loosens up a little, relaxing. Surely he can approach you tomorrow. For now he'll just relax here, and let Velvette and Valentino have their silly little laugh while they can enjoy it.

Lucifer

He's the fastest to realize.

Partially because he's actually been in love before so he's familiar with the feeling.

But he's also the first to panic because of it, wondering what Charlie will think.

Their relationship was just beginning to rebuild itself and he's scared about what such a big change would do to what he's rebuilt so far.

He most likely realizes when he's talking to Charlie actually.

Charlie is talking about how much she loves Vaggie, how everything reminds Charlie of her, or how if she sees something wonderful her immediate thought is that she wants to bring Vaggie there.

She's just talking about how she just loves Vaggie so much she just wants to share everything with her, boring and exciting!

And that is when it clicks for him, eyes widening.

“And despite the people of Cannibal Town being…interesting…They have amazing gardens and a gazebo and I can't wait to surprise Vaggie with a date there!” Charlie is talking at the typical fast pace she does when she is immeasurably excited, Lucifer just grinning and nodding along and just enjoying her sharing news about her life with him. There was so much he felt he still didn't know about his daughter and he was very eager to make up for lost time.

“And I heard this amazing new song that made me think of her! It went something like….Oh how did it go...?” Charlie trails off before attempting to sing what words she did remember.

“Or something like that! Anyways! Ugh I even love just sitting next to her while I write out new trust exercises!” She gushes, clasping her hands together as she continues to wax poetic about Vaggie. Others in the hotel didn't really care or were just tired of hearing it, and Lucifer wanted to spend time with her regardless of what they spent the time doing. So it made sense she would gush about her wonderful girlfriend to her dad, who patiently and happily listened to almost anything she wanted to talk about.

At some point during this monologue that he nodded and made noises of acknowledgement during, he stiffened, eyes widening as he realized the parallels between Charlie and himself that he hadn't really thought about before now.

Whenever he saw a pretty part of Pentagram City, his first thought was to show you. When he tried a new restaurant, his thought afterwards was always ‘Good enough to take you there.’ or ‘Not good enough to take you there.’ He adores the time when you're just sitting next to him, reading a book, or drawing, or whatever strikes your fancy that day as he toils away at his latest invention. He just enjoys…existing with you, even if no one is talking. Even mundane things like what he did that morning are things he finds he wants to share with you…he hears songs of love and happiness and his thoughts drift to you without even realizing until the song is over. If all of those things are things Charlie feels about Vaggie…then…

Fuck.

When did this even happen?! At what point did you turn from just a delightful part of his day to a required part of his day? How long has he had these feelings?! Why didn't he realize he had these feelings?!

Okay! No need to panic! He's been in love before. He can handle this. Right? He's the king of hell. Surely he can handle some feelings. He had been in love before!

…Except back then it had been completely obvious the feeling was reciprocated because they literally fell to hell together.

He's still panicking a little inwardly but…perhaps Charlie could help with some suggestions? He doesn't really know if he trusts anyone else to ask them that vulnerable of a question. To expose a weak point a sinner could gleefully take advantage of, to put you in harm's way. He also trusts you of course, but for obvious reasons he can't discuss that with you.

He realizes in his panicked internal monologue he's missed a good chunk of what Charlie has just said, and she realized it too, judging by the concerned look on her face.

“Dad? You in there?” She asks, leaning over him and waving a hand in front of his face to try and grab his attention, smiling when his eyes focused back on her.

"Whew! Thought I lost you there!" She laughs, shoulders relaxing now that he seems to be okay.

“Yes! I'm right here CharChar! Uh. Actually…now that I think about it I was wondering if I could ask you about something…” He trails off, taking her arm and beginning to walk to a more secluded area of the hotel to talk.

[nevertheless-moving]

More from the Hesina Willshaper AU. Specifically Continued from Here.

while hesina and Lirin were travelling with the band of freed slaves the two were loosely in charge, but decent enough at delegating that other people quickly took on major leadership rules.

erk. gonna need a bunch of ocs

layla, 8th nahn before being sold to pay family debts. quartermaster/ house steward role. roughly same age as hesina. worked mostly as a house slave.

she had actually managed to half pay off her slave price, something she gripes about for laughs, she could have bought cool stuff with that money. most of the money came from the child she had, who was sold as a baby, wouldn't be able to find it if she wanted to, and she's not even completely sure she does.

layla is fascinated by different peoples religions, languages, beliefs...she's met people from a surprising number of countries working as a lighteye's servant. mostly self taught reading, hesina teachers her to write. hesina and her talk a lot about religion and philosophy. one of the few people who doesn't put hesina on a pedestal. hesina's first squire.

it seems that the squire rules are different for each order. i'm wildly but confidently headcanoning that willshapers get exactly ten, and they can tangibly feel each squire bond being formed.

willshapers have an interesting relationship to Connection. Connections can free you. Connections can become chains. best to be aware. either side of the willshapers squire bond can break the connection at any time.

(willshapers also have an interesting relationship to Oaths. Oaths can very definitely become chains. they just... i mean oaths still matter, but they don't take breaking them as seriously as some of the orders. circumstances matter. people grow. the spren once vowed not to bond with the singers again, and yet...it's been millenia. The lightspren are thinking. Things have changed.)

they're not freeing people because they made an oath. They made an oath because they chose to free people.

-

Ruush, 5th nahn before being enslaved for refusing to follow orders. One of the only ones with actual military training, though his leg was broken and healed wrong, meaning that he could only train, not fight, until he became hesina's second squire and healed.

Often Lirin's guard. Only 15 years younger than Lirin, but has for sure called him dad. Lirin calls him son and tries not to lecture him too much on being a soldier.

Ruush is mildly bemused by the entire concept of pacifism (Not common among Alethi!) and listens very patiently, with genuine if slightly abstract interest. i mean, you gotta admit, violence does beget violence. wild. anyway, back to work.

Has heard enough stories about Tien and Kaladin that he pretty much thinks of them as his brothers.

When kaladin and him finally meet kal is... mostly cool with that (sure, this might as well happen. can't have too many brothers). but there is significant disagreement over who's oldest.

-

shortly before making it to Urithiru oathgate they run into the listeners. layla and ruush hastily throw up some walls between them while Hesina tries to communicate that she comes in peace. The listeners scramble to get Eshonai to translate.

it takes some time to talk. the translation process with the council of five. mistrust on both sides. lirin gives an impassioned speech about wanting to be free from violence, and some listeners swear they could almost hear the man attuning to the rhythm of hope.

Eshonai gives her plate and blade to Thule before traveling to Urithiru. Venli calls her a fool. The council approves. This might be their one last chance.

Eshonai returns full of enthusiasm. This is it. They could escape. They would still need gems to make the fields grow, but the Neshua Kadal leader women and her mate have been robbing other humans blind while traveling. This could work.

-

Venli presents her own radical idea, storm form, a form of power.

Maybe two thirds of the listeners take the chance on Urithiru.

A third stay on the shattered plains to fight for vengeance to the bitter end.

-

Listeners slightly outnumber human population. People learn quickly that any violence gets randomly duplicated, which Lirin is weirdly smug about. Eshonai spends a lot of time on language lessons.

After sitting down and talking it out, they eventually decide to make a council of ten — 5 humans, 5 listeners. Hesina's lightspren is given the deciding vote if they tie.

They need each other too much to operate separately, even if the place is technically big enough.

Over the course of a month they actually settle into a decent routine. There's some mistrust, but Eshonai manages to explain fairly eloquently why they decided to kill the king, fearing being enslaved by the return of the gods

yeah the humans can get that. we don't really care about the king anyway.

the parshendi were shocked by how brutally and disproportionately the Alethi responded

tell me about it. i once scratched a window and was beaten until i couldn't walk.

Really, things are promising, common ground, willingness to move forward together.

-

Layla draws her own lightspern to much rejoicing, reaching the third oath, so now they can move between the oathgates without worrying about leaving people trapped in Urithiru without Hesina.

Eshenoi swears her own first oath!! even more rejoicing!!! listener and dark eyes going together into the future freely and equally.

if only they could convince Venli's revenge splinter group to join them. of course everyone wants vengeance but... they want to live more. they want to live for more.

the 'stormform' group is going to get themselves killed. and if somehow they don't... fear grows that the songs, the warnings about forms of power — they were for exactly this moment but what are they going to do? attack their own people?

The radiants alternate going out on a few more raids, freeing more slaves. They also bring stolen parchmen now, which they had mostly decided to leave behind in past raids, as they wouldn't really help in their own escapes at all, and everyone felt bad continuing to treat as slaves even if they come with, but they just...stand there. The Listeners are continuously baffled by them.

Some humans think about another few thousand years of their children and their children's children and their children being tenth dahn eternally ... they know humans who are dead behind the eyes and stormfather. If you bred for that...

-

(a storm is coming and things are going to get messy but those who were there will look back on these months and know how important they were. when the lighteyes come and the singers come things will change. but for a moment there was something beautiful and almost pure. and those foundations will matter more than anyone could possibly imagine)

[its-all-papaya]

Cat for the prompt game

this one was almost an hour and a half but in my defense my brain is a little fried. forgive.

Lando's looped the video probably about a hundred times already, but it still tickles the back of his brain the same way when he watches Oscar's face light up for the one-hundred-and-first time.

"I'm meeting some fans today, apparently."

Lando's seen it so many times he could mouth the words along with Oscar if he wanted. His expression is one Lando'd already had memorized even before, the bemused little smirk he pulls out whenever McLaren throws him in front of a camera alone. Put-upon, like he wants the whole audience to know he's just humoring them.

"Here they are," says the voice off camera that Lando could place if he thought about it long enough.

He hasn't thought about it at all, though, because it comes just before Oscar's face goes surprised, then melts into something soft and happy. Bit distracting, that part. Because Lando knows that expression, too, and it's only the fact that he's got it in high-def now that keeps him from being jealous that the video has gone and shared it with the whole world.

There are three of them, all orange.

"Hello there," Oscar says. It's in his normal voice, like he's talking genuinely to fans and not to the three itty bitty kittens tumbling around his legs.

The bravest of the bunch noses suspiciously at the top of his sock where it meets his shin as soon as it gets close enough. It shrinks back when Oscar smooths two fingers down the back of its neck.

"I reckon they were born to be fans," Oscar's eyes shoot quickly up to the camera and then back down as the second kitten props both tiny paws on his knee, "they're already in the right color."

It goes on like that. Oscar's smile never fully leaves his face and it never makes Lando's chest feel any less warm, no matter how many times he watches it repeat on his phone screen. The marketing team will probably be in fits over the numbers the post is doing, and all the while it'll be just Lando, curled up in his sweats in bed listening to Oscar say "I've seen that people compare me to one" over and over and over again.

Lando's seen, too. That people compare Oscar to a cat. He thinks that's probably where the whole thing came from, actually, the social team cashing out with a partner and tapping in on the fans' fancies at the same time.

He's not quite sure what they mean, but privately, Lando agrees. Carlos and Daniel had been all dog, bouncing into his life and wagging their proverbial tails at him until he keyed himself up to match. All play-fighting and sloppy, open affection; crowding his personal space and shedding everywhere until he had no choice but to love them back just as loudly, just as whole-heartedly.

Oscar had been different from the get-go. He was wary like a cat, circling quietly closer, sneaking in at the edges when he thought Lando might not notice. Shrinking away when he got too much affection too quickly. Slinking back to his own side of the garage when he'd had whatever he decided was enough, always resetting on his own terms.

"Bit scared, I reckon," Oscar says at the fifty-seven second mark. His gaze is off-screen, watching as the kittens are herded carefully back towards him. "New place, and all."

He chats on about the shelter they're promoting, hands busy corralling the kittens when they try to wander again. It takes until nearly a minute and a half in for him to successfully get a hand under one of them. His cheeks go a bit pink as he draws it up towards his chin, and Lando's always go a bit pink as he watches Oscar smile, listens to him say, "See? It's alright."

The next part is Lando's favorite. Sometimes he's been stopping to loop just the same fifteen seconds over, watching again and again as Oscar tucks the kitten against his chest, one hand cradling its back while the other nudges up under its furry white chin. Lando gets a bit hung up on the curve of Oscar's finger there, and he understands it, the way the kitten's eyes close into two pleased little arches on its face.

"Now you're happy, huh?" Oscar asks. His grin suddenly brightens into a soft laugh, and he looks directly at the camera to say, "I don't know if you can hear the purring."

They can hear it. Lando'd had to pull out his headphones a few loops in to catch it the first time, but he can pick it out through just the phone speaker now that he knows what to listen for.

Oscar finishes the video with the sponsored read at two-minutes-and-fifty-five seconds. The kitten is nearly asleep in his palm. Oscar's just sort of knuckling along its stomach gently as they close out, but he slips the pad of one finger under the kitten's paw just before the fade-out, and the cat's little toes flex out, like he's petting Oscar right back.

"What are you watching?"

Lando's eyes snap up from his phone screen, where the McLaren logo is frozen under the repeat icon. Next to him, Oscar rolls closer with a yawn so wide Lando can hear his jaw click. His voice is groggy, still half-asleep.

"Nothing," Lando whispers back.

Oscar slides an arm around his waist and Lando gets distracted enough by the feel of it that he doesn't notice Oscar's fingers closing around the phone, tilting it up so he can see what's woken him just after he'd drifted off.

He breathes out an exhale sharp enough to be a laugh and drops both the phone - onto the bed - and his head - onto Lando's chest.

"Interested in adopting one?" he asks, too cheeky for how awake he can possibly be. His fingers curl around Lando's bare side and Lando can feel his lips move vaguely against his collarbone.

"Maybe," Lando says back.

Oscar gives another of the breathy laughs, "You don't even like cats."

Lando locks his phone and finally sets it on the nightstand to charge. The stretch jostles Oscar enough that he huffs, but Lando soothes him easily with a palm up his spine. When he reaches the top, he threads fingers through the hair at Oscar's nape and presses a kiss to his forehead at the contented hum it draws out of him. A bit like a purr.

Lando smiles.

"That's not true."

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of violence, swearing, mention of death, past Amber freeman x Fem reader, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: +3,5

A/n: The next three chapters won’t follow the original storyline of the movies, because I wanted to write something outside of it, but after that we get to Scream 6. If you just want to read Scream 6 storyline, skip to part 12. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

"I can't believe we just graduated!" Iris exclaimed, her voice bubbling with a mix of disbelief and exhilaration. She was practically bouncing on her heels, now that they changed into normal clothes and not the ones from the ceremony.

Mindy rolled her eyes, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "I'm mostly surprised by the fact they let YOU graduate," Iris scoffed, her tone dripping with indignation. "You're dumb as fuck"

"Fuck you Mindy, I hope you die". Iris added with a glare, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You can ask your next girlfriend, who knows maybe you have a type". The moment the words tumbled out of her mouth, Iris's eyes widened, and before Mindy could react, Iris lunged at her. In an instant, she was on Mindy's back, trying to wrestle her to the ground in a flurry of insults and playful shoving.

Just then, Chad and Tara strolled by, drawn in by the chaotic situation. They paused, exchanging amused glances as they took in the scene.

"What's going on?" Tara asked, a bemused smile creeping across her face.

"Mindy is being a fucking asshole".

"So a normal day then". Chad quipped, a teasing glint in his eyes. He leaned against a nearby railing, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the show, all while ignoring the middle finger his sister threw at him. "We were going to ask you both to come and get pizza with us and Sam, but if you guys are busy..."

At that, Mindy and Iris exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. They both knew that pizza was far more enticing than their bickering.

"Yeah, okay, we can go," Mindy said with a grin, finally managing to shake Iris off her back. They began walking toward the parking lot, the sun shining down on them, casting a warm glow over the scene.

As they walked along, Chad chuckled, shaking his head. "They are so fucking weird," he remarked, gesturing at the duo who were now playfully jostling each other again, their laughter ringing out in the air.

They reached their favorite restaurant, a cozy little spot adorned with twinkling fairy lights and the aroma of freshly baked pizza wafting through the air. As they stepped inside, they spotted Sam already settled into a booth. Iris had just finished a call with her mother, reassuring her not to wait up. Ever since the attacks four months ago, her mom had insisted on knowing Iris's whereabouts at all times, and honestly she couldn't really blame her for it. They had all been lucky, and that knowledge weighed heavily on her heart.

Chad and Mindy slid into the booth beside Sam, while Iris and Tara took their seats across from them. The familiar chatter of the restaurant buzzed around them, a comforting backdrop to the occasion. Once they placed their orders, a wave of excitement and nervousness surged among them.

"So first of all, congratulations, guys! I'm so proud of you all," Sam declared, raising her glass high in celebration. The others quickly followed suit, their glasses clinking together with a satisfying sound.

"We did it! Not even fucking Ghostface could have stopped us from graduating!" Chad beamed, his smile warm and genuine as he took a sip of his drink.

"Honestly, I'm shocked we did it, but I'm really happy," Tara added, her voice laced with disbelief and joy.

Iris's smile faltered for a moment, her heart heavy as she thought of those who should have been there with them. "Yeah, can't help but think Wes and Liv should be here too," she sighed, the weight of her words casting a shadow over the table. A heavy silence enveloped them, each person acutely aware of the absence of their friends. They knew who else was missing in the celebration but no one wanted to say her name, especially not Iris; the ache of the betrayal was still too fresh.

"For Liv and Wes," Chad finally broke the silence, raising his drink again, his tone solemn. "This is for you guys."

"Wherever they are, I hope they're proud too," Iris muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt Tara's hand squeeze hers softly, a comforting gesture that warmed her heart amidst the sorrow.

After a few moments of silence, Mindy shifted the conversation. "So, what are we doing next?" she asked, her voice lightening the mood. "We all got into Blackmore University, so we're definitely seeing each other's faces"

"Unfortunately, I still have to see yours," Iris shot back, unable to resist a teasing grin.

"My face card is amazing, Iris; you should be thankful I let you see it". Mindy retorted with a mock-seriousness that drew laughter from the group.

"I'm excited to finally leave this fucking town". Sam chimed in, her enthusiasm infectious. "We just need to find somewhere to live".

As they chatted about their plans, with Chad and Mindy dreaming of living independently and Sam and Tara discussing the kind of apartment they wanted, Iris sat in contemplative silence. The idea of living alone filled her with dread, yet she wasn't sure she could trust a random roommate either. The conversation swirled around her, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere.

After their meal, they decided to head to The Carpenter's house for a movie night. As Sam, Chad, and Mindy led the way, Tara slowed her pace, matching her steps to Iris's.

"What's on your mind?" Tara asked gently, her tone inviting Iris to open up.

"What do you mean?" Iris replied, trying to feign ignorance.

"You've been really quiet during dinner, and no offense, Ris, but you usually talk way too much for your own good."

"Okay, rude," Iris joked half-heartedly, but Tara didn't let it slide.

"C'mon, what happened?"

With a deep sigh, Iris turned her gaze to the floor, the weight of her worries pressing down on her. "I guess I'm just worried."

"About what?"

"Our life in New York," she admitted, her shoulders slumping in resignation. "I don't know how I'm going to find a place for myself."

"Why would you find a place for yourself alone?" Tara asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Because I have to live somewhere?" Iris replied, a hint of confusion creeping into her voice.

"I thought you were going to live with me and Sam."

"Wait, really?" Iris's heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah, we always included you in our plans," Tara said softly, her voice comforting. "I know you hate the idea of living alone, and you're just as paranoid as Sam, so obviously you're not going to live with someone you don't know on your own."

"I hate that you know me," Iris said, smiling at Tara while the shorter girl shrugged nonchalantly. “Are you sure you guys don't mind living with me?" her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Why would we?"

"Well... I mean," Iris stuttered, the hesitation lingering between them. Tara raised her eyebrows, encouraging her to continue. "We are rebuilding our friendship after everything. I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

Tara studied Iris for a moment, her gaze unwavering. "I would never be uncomfortable with you, Ris," she said, her voice softening. "Also, we can use this as a way to continue building our friendship again."

"Yeah, I would like that," Iris said, nudging Tara playfully, relief flooding her.

"Me too," Tara replied, a smile breaking across her face.

A whole month of packing, and endless preparations had led to this moment. It was time for Iris to leave for New York, a city that felt both thrilling and terrifying. As she stood in the driveway, she was pretty sure her mom had no tears left to cry. The goodbye was heavy, filled with unspoken fears and hopes.

"Iris, promise me you'll call every day," her mother insisted, her voice shaky. The grip on her daughter's hand was firm, desperate to hold into her for a little bit longer.

Iris nodded, her throat tight. "I promise." And as the tears spilled over, she was grateful that Mindy wasn't around to make fun of her for crying.

Mindy and Chad were already on their way with their mom, the excitement in their voices echoing in Iris's mind, while Sam was handling the logistics of moving all of her and her sister's things. That left Tara, who would be traveling with Iris, the one who had volunteered to drive.

When Tara arrived with her bags, the moment felt bittersweet. Rachel, Iris's mom, saw her and immediately burst into tears again, wrapping Tara in a tight embrace. "I can't believe you both are moving," she sobbed, holding them as if she could freeze time. "Remember when you two would come in here and help me make cookies?"

Tara smiled, her eyes shining with memories. "Those were amazing cookies, Rachel. The best." She could almost taste the warm chocolate chip dough and feel the laughter that filled the kitchen, a reminder of simpler times.

"You're both so grown up," Rachel said, pulling them into another hug, her voice muffled against their shoulders.

"God, Mom, you're gonna scare Tara with all your tears," Iris teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Don't be mean, dear. I'm just emotional and old—leave me alone," Rachel retorted, a playful smile breaking through her tears. They truly were mother and daughter with the same sense of humor.

Tara laughed wholeheartedly, a sound that warmed the air around them. She adored the relationship Iris had with her mom, a bond filled with warmth and understanding. In fact, she felt a pang of longing for that kind of connection with her own mother, who had always seemed distant. Rachel had always treated Tara like one of her own, and she found herself getting more emotional saying goodbye to Rachel than to her own mother.

With one last hug, Tara moved to grab Iris's belongings. "Oh, Tara, you don't have to do that," Iris protested, reaching out.

"Say goodbye to your mom," Tara said gently, resting a hand on Iris's arm, her touch comforting. "I'll put this in the car." With that, she walked away, leaving Iris alone with her mother.

"I'm really glad you guys are friends again," Rachel said, her smile warm and knowing.

"Me too, I missed her," Iris admitted, her heart aching with a mix of happiness and guilt.

Rachel's gaze softened, filled with understanding. "She is good for you. Always has been."

Iris stared at her, momentarily confused by the implication. Before she could ask what her mom meant by that, Rachel pulled her into one last embrace. "Come on, don't leave her waiting. Call me when you guys arrive, okay, dear?"

"Okay, Mom. I love you," Iris said, squeezing her tightly, savoring the warmth of her mother's embrace.

"I love you more," Rachel replied, her voice breaking as she pulled away, wiping her cheeks but unable to hide the glistening in her eyes.

As Iris watched her mother step back, a sense of finality settled over her. She turned to find Tara waiting by the car, her face lit up with excitement. Taking a deep breath, Iris approached Tara, who was adjusting the last of the bags in the trunk. "Thanks for being here," Iris said, her voice steady but her heart still racing.

Tara looked up and smiled, her expression softening. "Always. Imagine how bored you would be without me."

"Let's go and start living our life"

Iris nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of hope and nostalgia. As they climbed into the car, the engine roared to life, and with one last glance at her childhood home, Iris felt the rush of excitement wash over her.

The sun was just starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink as Iris and Tara navigated the never-ending roadway. They had been on the road for hours, their excitement for the move to New York palpable, but the sea of red brake lights ahead could only mean they would be stuck for a couple of hours.

"Of course there's traffic" Tara sighed, tapping her fingers on the dashboard to the rhythm of the Taylor Swift song playing softly in the background. "We should've left earlier."

Iris glanced at her, a grin creeping across her face. "Maybe but we wouldn't have this quality time together." Tara rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. They had spent the past month planning this move and the thought of finally being in the city was exhilarating. When they were younger, she recalled, they used to speak about moving to New York together after high school so they could go to the same college. Tara believed the dream was over two years ago, but now she couldn't believe it was actually happening. Gazing at Iris, she couldn't resist the smile that spread across her face.

Iris feeling the stare, turned to her friend with a smirk of her own. "Why are you staring at me you creep?"

"I can't believe you just called me a creep"

"Then don't act like one" Tara softly punched her in the arm while Iris pretended that it hurt her.

"I'm just happy"

"About what? It can't possibly be the traffic" Iris joked though they both knew what Tara meant.

"About us going to New York...together" Iris stared into Tara's eyes. "With the rest of course, but I just... I guess I never thought we would get here after everything".

"I will never not feel guilty about that" Iris stared down at the steering wheel in shame before Tara grabbed her hand and squeezed it in order to give her comfort.

"Don't, it wasn't your fault" Tara truly didn't blame her. "Don't get depressed, we still have like five hours in this car, if you cry I'm going to kill myself"

"Not guilty anymore, fuck you" They both laughed.

After a few moments, Tara received a message from Sam saying she was already at their new apartment while Chad and Mindy were close behind. It seemed as if they were the only two left with a long way to go, trapped in the confines of the car as the city loomed ahead like a distant dream.

"So what can we do in New York?" Iris asked, glancing out at the blurred skyline that gradually sharpened into focus. "Aside from visiting all the obvious places."

Tara's face lit up with enthusiasm. "We can watch a lot of movies." There was a spark in her eyes; she had always loved movies and her major in film studies reflected her passion. It was her escape, a world of imagination where anything was possible. But for Iris, who was knee-deep in her psychology studies, movies were just a distraction—something she'd never quite understood.

"When you say movies, I hope you don't mean horror movies," Iris said, a frown creeping onto her face. The very thought made her stomach twist uncomfortably. Tara and Mindy's casual enjoyment of the genre baffled her, especially after everything that had happened five months ago.

"Well..." Tara began, a playful glint in her eye.

"How can you like them so much? I'll never understand." Iris shook her head, exasperated.

"Horror movies are great for several reasons, Iris." Tara's tone shifted to that of a passionate lecturer, and Iris groaned in annoyance for the impending explanation. "First, they provide this incredible adrenaline rush from jump scares and tense moments. It's an addictive experience, really, embracing the unknown. Second, they explore deep themes, like the human psyche, societal fears, and moral dilemmas. And third," she continued, her excitement bubbling over, "it's just really fun to watch them with friends"

"I literally do not care about anything that you just said"

"You cared enough to listen until the end" Tara smiled cheekily at her, she knew Iris was just being annoying on purpose.

"Whatever" Iris muttered, crossing her arms. "Weirdo"

"Hater," Tara shot back, pointing a finger at her in exaggerated mock anger. "We can watch Hereditary, The Witch, It Follows, The Conjuring..."

"The only one I know is The Conjuring" Iris interrupted, her voice tinged with reluctance.

"Really? You watched it?" Tara asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yeah, I watched it with Am..." Iris's voice trailed off, the name hanging heavily in the air. Just saying it conjured a wave of memories she wasn't ready to face. Amber. She had watched it with Amber.

"You know you can say her name, right?" Tara's gaze softened, her expression tinged with concern and pity. Iris hated that look. It felt like a reminder of everything she wanted to forget.

"She doesn't deserve to be named," Iris snapped, her frustration bubbling over.

"She doesn't, but how else can you move on?" Tara's voice was gentle but firm.

"I have moved on," Iris insisted, though her heart felt heavy with doubt.

"No, you haven't, and that's okay. No one has, honestly." Tara sighed, her eyes drifting toward the city lights as they flickered to life against the dusk. "I have nightmares most nights, and every time I hear a phone ringing, I can't help but startle."

Iris looked away, her throat tightening. She remembered the echoes of shouting, the blood spilling everywhere, the sound of a bullet being fired and the sudden quiet that had followed the tragic events of that night. They had all been so trusting and naïve. Now, the shadows of the past loomed large, and the memories they had with the people they once loved had been tinged with anger and loss.

"It's just... I want to enjoy things again without thinking about her," Iris finally confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.  "It's like she's everywhere".

Tara reached over and squeezed her hand, a silent acknowledgment of the pain they both carried. "I get it, Iris. But sometimes, facing those fears in whatever way we can think of can help us heal, even when it feels impossible."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Tara's words sinking in. The traffic continued to crawl, but in that moment, the world outside faded away. All that mattered was the bond they shared, their unspoken understanding of grief, loss, and the faint glimmer of hope that one day, they might truly move forward.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you". Iris said, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with sincerity.

Tara looked away, feeling the weight of her trauma press heavily on her chest. "It also happened to you. Don't be sorry for something you had no control over." Her tone was firm, but the quiver in her voice betrayed the strength she was trying to show.

"She hurt you because of me," Iris insisted, the guilt etched across her face like a permanent shadow.

"She would've hurt me either way, Iris," Tara replied, her heart aching at the thought of what her "best friend" wanted to do to her. They both knew that she was right but Iris couldn't help but feel like without even knowing she pushed Amber to insanity.

A few moments of silence passed, and the tension between them hung in the air. Iris felt a crack in her armor and let herself be vulnerable. "I don't know how to move on," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know if I ever will."

Tara squeezed her hand tightly, rubbing small circles on it with her thumb, grounding them both in the moment. "You won't forget what happened but you will move on. It will take time, but we all will." There was a warmth in Tara's eyes, a flicker of hope that Iris longed to believe.

"How can you be so sure?" Iris asked, searching her friend's gaze for answers.

"Because if we don't, then they win." Tara's voice was steady, filled with fierce determination. She locked eyes with Iris, a fire igniting between them. "And I'm not gonna let them win. I'm not gonna let them ruin me."

Iris felt her heart swell at Tara's words. "You amaze me," she said softly, a smile breaking through her sorrow.

Tara blushed, ducking her head, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and pride. After a moment, she looked back up, her eyes shining. "Surprisingly enough, I'm following Mindy's advice."

"Mindy's advice? Oh, we are so fucked," Iris joked, a laugh escaping her despite the heaviness in her heart.

"I know, right? Insane," Tara replied, her laughter mingling with Iris's, creating a brief moment of levity in the darkness. But then Tara's expression shifted, becoming serious. "But she did tell me something that really resonated with me."

"What's that?".

"The first step to let go of that day is to let go of the anger," Tara said, her voice steady.

Iris pondered this, frowning. "How do you let go of the anger?"

Tara took a deep breath, her gaze distant for a moment as she searched for the right words. "By acknowledging what they did. By saying their names. If we ignore it, if we don't say their names, then we are still living in that day, and I refuse it."

"I refuse it too," Iris echoed, her voice firmer now.

As they sat in the car, the city lights flickering to life outside, Tara gently brushed a stray hair from Iris's face, her fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. The simple gesture sent a flutter through Iris's chest, a mix of warmth and something deeper that she dared not name.

Tara's hand remained intertwined with Iris's, and as they shared a look filled with understanding, Iris couldn't help but notice the way Tara's eyes sparkled.

"You're stronger than you realize." Tara said softly, her thumb tracing the back of Iris's hand.

Iris felt her heart race, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Maybe I could just follow your example". she admitted, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them. "What's the first step to let go then?".

"Well, I started by saying, Richie and Amber, the fuckers that tried to kill us." Tara's voice trembled slightly, but as she spoke the names aloud, a surprising softness washed over the moment. Iris let out a soft laugh, and it immediately made Tara smile.

"Richie and... Amber, the fuckers that tried to kill us," Iris echoed, her tone teasing yet light, as if saying their names had somehow lifted a weight.

"You see? First step." Tara beamed, her heart swelling with the shared act of acknowledgment.

"When did you get so wise?" Iris asked, a playful lilt in her voice.

"When I realized that someone had to be the smart one in the group," Tara replied, her grin widening.

"Oh, fuck you," Iris shot back, laughter bubbling up between them, brightening the somber air like the city lights emerging against the night sky.

"We are still not watching The Babadook" Iris declared once the conversation shifted, shaking her head firmly, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes betrayed her playful intent.

"Oh, come onnnn," Tara whined, pouting dramatically as she leaned into Iris's shoulder, her warmth radiating against the taller girl's side. It was moments like this, filled with laughter and light-hearted banter, that made the heaviness of their shared past feel a little lighter.

As the drive continued, the atmosphere shifted; it was filled with laughter and banter. They talked about everything from silly childhood memories to their expectations in their new life in New York.

And if Tara and Iris held hands during most of the trip, well, no one had to know about it.

[doodle-pops]

Of Heroism and Heart

Glorfindel x reader

A/N: I've never been one for writing the whole 'modern–day reader falling into Middle Earth stories', I always preferred to read them. So, I'm attempting my hand at this for the first time. It is a bit different from what is typically written. So, here's your Glorfi fic that won the poll.

Warnings: none, tooth-rotting fluff, Glorfindel has learned how to use his charisma.

Words: 1k

Synopsis: Talks of heroism and villainy become the new philosophical method of displaying one's charm.

“There’s a saying about villains and heroes where I’m from,” you began, your voice thoughtful and reflective. “It goes something like this: ‘A hero would sacrifice you to save the world, but a villain would sacrifice the world to save you.’”

Swinging gently in the breeze, swaying side to side in your hammock, your elven Lord sat across from you, engrossed in the exchange of tales and sayings from your world. Each day seemed to bring a new layer of fascination as he delved into the intricacies of human culture and thought. He had never expected your arrival to kindle such curiosity and interest in his heart. Mortals were extraordinary beings, but your presence had illuminated new facets of their nature that he had yet to explore.

His gaze followed the motion of the potted celandines hanging above, his lips pursed in contemplation as your words settled into his mind. “Care to elaborate?” he inquired, his curiosity genuine.

Shouldering a casual shrug, accompanied by a half–formed smirk, you stretched languidly in the hammock, nestling further into its embrace. You playfully placed your small feet beside his torso. “It’s just one of those sayings people come up with, you know? Derived from observations about heroes and villains,” your tone conveyed a sense of ease, as if you were simply relaying common wisdom passed down to you. “Heroes are driven to save the world, which in turn saves their loved ones. However, sometimes, their loved ones end up perishing in the process of saving the world. On the other hand, villains prioritize protecting their loved ones before pursuing their goal, even if that means destroying the world.”

His brow furrowed as he mulled over your explanation, his expression a canvas of deep contemplation. With each piece of your interpretation, it was as if puzzle pieces were clicking into place within his mind, accompanied by mental light bulbs illuminating his understanding. His appearance resembled that of a bemused puppy, and you couldn’t help but toy with the idea of labelling him your “Golden Retriever,” a nickname he strangely seemed to embody.

“What specifically are you conveying here?” Glorfindel’s head tilted to the side, his gaze fixed on you with a tinge of displeasure. “Your words seem to imply that villains are superior to heroes, given their commitment to safeguarding their loved ones. I find myself in disagreement with that declaration.”

Laughter bubbled from your lips in response to his dissatisfaction, prompting you to sit upright and meet his gaze directly. “What it suggests is that when faced with a choice between saving the world or saving their beloved, a hero would typically choose the world, while a villain would opt for their loved one,” you clarified. “Heroes tend to be focused on overarching morality and the greater good, whereas villains are often more concerned with their personal connections. It’s a play on perspectives—what’s considered right or wrong isn’t always straightforward.”

Glorfindel blinked rapidly, his gaze unwavering as he sat upright to face you directly. His unruly golden locks, cascading like sun–kissed tendrils, framed his countenance like an ethereal halo. A soft blush warmed your cheeks despite the intellectual discourse at hand. It was easy to lose yourself in these conversations, and at times, it almost felt like he possessed an uncanny awareness of his own effect on you.

“I beg to differ,” he asserted firmly, a challenge evident in his voice. “I am regarded as a hero by many for my accomplishments, and I would never permit harm to befall either the world or my beloved. I would strive to safeguard both.”

Raising an eyebrow, you leaned in, your foreheads nearly touching as you met his steadfast gaze. “And how, might I ask, do you intend to accomplish such a feat, renowned Lord Balrog Slayer?”

Drawing even closer, his forehead pressed gently against yours, and he whispered with an air of triumph, “I would ensure your safety...for you are my world. Without you, the world would lose its meaning; you are the bane of my essence, my reason for existence, the very breath I inhale. There can be no world without you at my side, just as there can be no you without the world. As a hero, I would save my world, meleth–nîn. I cherish you deeply.”

A lump formed in your throat, a mixture of emotions leaving you momentarily speechless. The rising heat in your cheeks contrasted with the tears that shimmered in the corners of your eyes. The rush of emotions and the depth of his words left you with a heartwarming smile. Glorfindel’s eloquence had the power to move your soul and reshape your worldview. He effortlessly wove his sentiments into words that stirred your heart, offering you a love and life you had previously only encountered in fairytales. The dream of falling in love with Prince Charming had become a vivid reality ever since you had stumbled into Middle–earth and into his arms.

In the stillness that followed, he took advantage of the moment, his fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He placed soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks before hesitating, his lips hovering near yours. The anticipation hung in the air, drawing out the moment until his lips finally met yours in a fleeting, yet intense, kiss.

Pulling away, his lashes brushed against your skin as his lips traced playful patterns along your cheeks. “You’re quite the romantic, you know?” you giggled.

“If it means being right, then I shall embrace the role of the romantic for you, my beloved,” he murmured, a warmth of affection evident in his smile.

“Just ensure you tie your hair before rushing to save me, I don’t need another hair–pulling accident in this day and age.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @hoshinokurasa @singleteapot @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @bunson-burner @stormchaser819 @wisheduponastar @roselovesong @batsyforyou

[torusbitch]

Hi so here's my request!

Gojo satoru × reader

They are both shy and just started dating and thinks the other is innocent. Twist they are just virgins by body but where by mind). Just suggestive. I love how you write out the scenario honestly. And some flirting😙 I'm so vague here I hope u can make something out of this 😆

Hello nonnie!!! okay so what I get is that this is some cute pretty innocent relationship, they’re both virgins but mentally..not. Sweet Satoru and a shy reader! Some suggestive content then fluff, I’m not sure if you want downright smut, so I’ll just write something light, I hope I carried out your prompt well enough!!

“I’d think you’d fall in love with anyone who fell in love with you and they frequently do, so take comfort.” Hate Yourself.

content: shy reader x bf! Satoru, going to sleep with your boyfriend’s back takes an unexpected but welcomed turn;) Fluff and Nsfw content.

Wide twinkling eyed stared into yours, you felt your face heat up slowly. You were never a relationship person, you were too socially isolated, too shy, too awkward, too weird.. you just never thought you’d find yourself a partner. Well that was until you met Satoru.

The man stormed into your life, jumbling and getting rid of all of the normalcy. He strutted into your life with confidence, pulling you out of your cocoon encouragingly. When you were too drained to go out, or to speak, he’d just come over and open your favorite series. When you felt too gloomy, he’d take you out on late night drives. When you felt trapped, he’d drive away in his SUV with no destination in mind.

In other words, he turned your life upside down.

“Baby.” Ah, and all the endearing pet names he’d call you, he was a man sent from the heavens. Giving him a soft hum, you turn to your boyfriend, looking up from your laptop. “Yeah?” You ask, trying to hide the fact that you were thinking about him. Pink lips were tugged into a pout, he looked at you with puppy eyes, “C’mon, let’s go to sleep.” He suggested, giving you a big smile.

It was late in the night, and you were just finishing up with all your work. You gave him a slight nod, shutting up your laptop but not before saving all the progress you’ve made. After casting aside your stuff, you join him on the bed. Lying down to face him, you crawl under the comforter, peeking out your face so that you can look at him. He was so beautiful.

You shy away from his gaze, still new to all the intimacy and genuine affection. “C’mere.” He ushers, making you smile a little, hesitantly moving closer to him. He lets out a huff, pulling you smoothly so that your faces were only centimeters apart. Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing, you debate looking away. As if he read your mind, he held onto your chin softly, making you continue looking at him.

“So shy.” He laughs, feeling bemused as he watches your whole face flush. But he didn’t know what you were thinking, the sinful scenarios that’d play in your mind, how you’d picture yourself trapped under him, you weren’t innocent, but he didn’t know that. He didn’t know how often you’d rub your thighs together whenever you look at him, or how you’d feel so hot and bothered when hearing his morning voice.

It was all too much, yet you didn’t want to initiate it. You were a virgin, but still, you felt the need for him urge through you in crashing waves. “What are you thinking of?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nuzzle into the action, biting your lips, feeling guilty for all your thoughts. “Nothing.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, “Hm? Then why are you so pink?” He grins, looking down at your lips. “Tell me what your pretty self is thinking of.” His voice was taunting, the words almost left your lips, your cock. Your eyes widen at the vulgarity of them, looking away in a panic, you didn’t want him to figure you out.

He watches you curiously, a small smirk on his lips as if he already knew what your mind was thinking of. Yet he pouts some more, “It can’t be that bad.” He assured you, you swallow, it was that bad. “Nothing..really.” You give him a weak smile.

“Nothing, really?” He parrots back, tucking your hair behind your ear, then letting his thumb brush against your bottom lips. His bright eyes narrow subtly, a smug expression on his face. “Then why are you breathing so heavily?” In a split second, he sat up, crawling over you and successfully pinning you against the bed. Letting most of his body weight lean on you, suffocating you deliciously.

“What’s my sweet girl thinking of that has her so bothered, hm?” he asks gently, looking at you with concerned eyes. You swallow, looking up at him in a haze. “Fuck, you’re hot.” The words leave your lips in a rush, quicker than your brain could ever process. Your eyes widen in mortification, you didn’t just say that, did you? Fucks sake.

Satoru grins, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “Oho.” He whistles slightly, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He laughs, caressing your face. “Oh, yeah? That’s what has you so flustered? Hm, baby.” His tone was almost mocking as he gazed down on you, a lustrous smile on his pink lips.

He couldn’t hold back his erogenous thoughts, biting his lips slightly. He looked down at you with heavy eyes, you were too confounded to form a reply, trying to catch onto your sprinting breath. It was something about they way he looked at you so voluptuously, his face screwed into an unreadable expression.

You were both virgins, that much was clear. But you were both corrupted; sweltering thoughts and perverted fantasies.

His lips found yours easily, something so heavenly sinful about the way he moved his mouth against yours. Gripping your jaw and forcefully tilting your head, you let him take the lead, trying to reciprocate his actions as much as you could.

Tongue intertwined with yours, fingers gripping into his lean biceps. Satoru lets out a pleased hum, finally satisfying his growing gluttony. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. The salacious sounds of both your mouths covetously converging were downright aberrant, sinful, deviant..you couldn’t even form words on how you were currently feeling.

Large hands gripped the sides of your hips, spreading your legs and wrapping them around his waist spontaneously. You let out a ravening gasp, pulling away to catch some breath. Satoru’s tongue flicked out, scooping up the threads of mixed saliva from both your mouths avariciously.

“Sato— fuck..” you feel your whole body heat up at his actions, rubbing your thighs together, completely forgetting that they were wrapped around his hips, so you unintentionally manage to grind yourself against him. Satoru was surprised, he didn’t hold back a reaction, your hips bucked against his hard cock. He let out a voracious whine, dazed from the abrupt push against his core.

“Oh g-god, my sweet girl.” He hissed though his teeth, lips falling into a silent moan. You yourself let out a noise of your own, you watched him completely lose his composure. “You’re killing me.” He gaped, eyes fluttered shut. He didn’t hold back, letting his mouth devour yours with insatiable hunger.

You don’t remember how it happened, but suddenly, your neck was being bombarded by toothy kisses, the skin breaking softly before being salivated by his tongue. Sweet, feverish moans unwillingly echoing from your lips. “Oh- oh… Sato- mmm, ‘Toru..”

“Fuck..fuck.” You cursed, writhing when his hips rhythmically rolling against yours. You could feel his bulge so clearly, and god, just like you imagined, he was huge. You let out a loud mewl, fingers tugging on his hair harshly, making him grumble against your neck.

Softly, you push him away, sitting up. You take off your top, revealing your plain bra. Satoru’s eyes widened, face thoroughly flushing, overwhelmed by the sight in his face. You find yourself flushing too, you smile slightly.

“Baby..” he breathed out, biting his lips, you let your fingers fiddle with the edges of his shirt, silently asking for permission. He gives a nod, blinking rapidly. You grin, taking off his shirt.

Fuck.

The man was built, every bit of his body sculpted to perfection. You feel your eyes flutter, letting out a curse. You straddle him, switching position so that he was trapped underneath you now. He let out a sweet sound at the switch of charge. He finds himself grinning, letting his large hands hold the sides of your hips, rubbing them gently.

You kiss him assertively, cupping his jaw. You could feel him grinning against your lips, not wasting time and shoving his tongue deep in your mouth. Hesitantly, you let your nails take over his chest, softly trailing till they reach his abdomen, prompting an obvious shudder from him.

You experimentally roll your hips against his, his hard on was still evident. Finding a constant rhythm, you grind your hips against his, inducing lewd noises from both parties, muffled by the sensual kiss you were sharing. The sloshy sounds of kissing could be heard, you feel your legs shudder when you move against him, savoring the succulent action. You could feel your wetness dampen your underwear, if you keep on going at this rate, you’ll soon have a wet patch over the crotch of your pants.

Pulling away to catch your breath, you rest your forehead against Satoru’s, eyes shut in blissful pleasure. He looks up at you, eager for more action, using his big hands that were settled on your hips. He moves your lower body, making you partake in a much quicker pace. You let out shuttered moans, eyes screwed tight, making him click his tongue. “If you don’t look at me, I’ll stop.” The warning was enough to have you snapping your eyes open, looking at him with your bottom lip rolled between your teeth.

“Look at you baby.” He breathes out, tucking your hair behind your ear, “can’t even move your hips for me?” He asks, tilting his head, “How will you even take my cock then, hm?” His words had you spluttering, chocking on your own saliva. A chesire grin encases his lips at your reaction, moving you faster against him. The feeling was so avaricious. You felt contentment and delight bubbling up your gut, back arching as you try to reciprocate the occasional thrusts of his hips.

“Yeah.. just like that baby.” He cooed, biting his lips. He lets out a breathy moan, guttural grunts fleeting past from his lips, accompanied with the frequent needy whines and breathless whimpers, he was almost louder than you. “Look at you.” He repeats, “bouncing on my hard-on.” He lets out a throaty grouse, a small trail of drool on the corner of his lips.

You never felt like this before, he was making you thrust against him in an incoherent speed, your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head. “Oh god… Toru.” You whine, tugging on his hair, enticing a loud moan from him. “Satoru.” He corrects you, making you look at him. “S’not even a mouthful baby, you can say it.” You nod mindlessly, “mm, S-Satoru.” You breathe out, chasing your high, hips clumsily moving against his.

“Oh, baby. You’re gonna make me cum in my pants like a school boy.” He cries out, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Gnawing on your cheek, you feel your thighs quivering, Satoru’s hands moved you against him even faster, “mm, fuck.” You hiss, “I-I’m close.” You whine, making him grin.

“Yeah? Yeah, baby?” He asks sweetly, making you nod as you let out subsequent gasps, “gonna cum f’me? Gonna spoil your panties?” His vulgarity wasn’t a shock to you, of course he’d talk like this. “Cause I’m making ya feel good, gonna make a mess for me? For this dick? Fuck, I didn’t even take off my pants yet.” You whine, biting on your lips, each word was a delicious punch to the gut, making you reach your orgasm faster.

“I’m.. fuck. Gonna come ‘Toru- Satoru.” You cry out, digging your nails into his burly biceps. “Yeah, yeah baby. Make a mess.. ‘m close too.” He hissed through his teeth, biting his lips. “C’mon baby, come for me.” His words sent you over the top, a vehement paradise.

He grins profanely, making you look at him as you reached your peak. He let out consecutive bursts of noise, sounding straight out of a pornography film. You feel his cock twitch underneath you, just like you predicted, where both your clothes-crotches met there was a wide wet spot. “Look baby, fuck.. our juices mixed together. Would ya look at that?” That was it, his words sent you into a frenzy. Reverently, you felt your self come undone, like strings being snapped taut. You let out a long cry of bliss, he followed behind you soon after. Moaning as he captured your lips into a long kiss. Thrusts turning sloppy as you both rode out your highs. “F-fuck..” he hissed, kissing you deeply, cheeks flushed red, lips wet with saliva. Both of you came undone, you felt the movement of your hips stop, your whole body shuddering as an after effect.

“Mm, baby. We should do this again, but next time…” Satoru begins, a cruel toothy grin on his lips, “next time it’ll be my cock in your pussy, yeah?”

———

The next morning, you wake up alone. Befuddled, you look around, searching for a sign of your boyfriend. You sit up in your shared bed, groaning and rubbing your face. Memories of last night came rushing to you, you couldn’t believe you guys did..that. “G’morning, sweet girl.” You feel a smile grace your lips when you see your boyfriend walking in the room. A dish of perfectly baked pancakes and a cup of cold icy water.

“Morning, ‘Toru. You didn’t have to.” It wasn’t awkward like how you thought it’d be, or humiliating, or even embarrassing. You just felt like your relationship took a more intimate turn, knowing that both of you trusted eachother enough to be that vulnerable together was unexpectedly tooth-achingly sweet. He sits next to you, the bed dipping at his weight.

A soft kiss presses against your forehead, he pulls back with a soft smile. “C’mon, eat your breakfast. Then I’m taking you out.” You perked up at his words, but before you could ask, he cut you off. “Nope, it’s a surprise sweet girl.” He pecks your cheek, pulling away with a gentle smile, making your face flush helplessly. He laughs at your flustered state, “You’ll love it.” He grins at you, “Come on now, eat.”

The pancakes were delicious, you thanked him countless times. Showering his face with kisses after you brushed your teeth, for the surprise, Satoru took you to an ancient library. Watching with an affectionate smile and love drunk eyes as you lean he’s around in excitement. Anything makes you happy, even the simple actions. Perhaps that’s why he bought you guys matching pajamas in your favorite color, or why he bought you a pretty necklace with a pendant of your favorite animal, or why he decided to spoil you with little gifts that had your love growing for him and his thoughtfulness.

The relationship you both shared was filled with sweet genuine love. He wouldn’t give you up for the world; you were his one and only.

🐳 hey lovelies!! Sorry if this is too rushed, I wrote this running in three hours of sleep and two cans of red bull:3 anyways, I hoped you guys enjoyed this!

SEND REQUETS

[meidui]

as you know, i am absolutely obsessed with 'seven years in heaven'. do you have any recommendations for similar fics where they teeter on the edge of a breakup or divorce, or where exes get back together? i'm looking for stories where the tension is all based on miscommunications and assumptions, and nobody is genuinely angry/there's no hate between them. i need that stupid yearning and longing when, in fact, they both still want each other. i've read a few but i can't get enough 😩✨

DO I EVER!! 🥰

In Too Deep by @fohatic

Steve knew that he was asking for trouble when he agreed to let the gallery auction off a date with him for charity, but he needed to get in the director's good books if he wanted to make it as an artist in this cutthroat town. He never imagined that his participation would ignite an outrageous bidding war, or that the infamous, billionaire ex that he hadn't seen since their sudden breakup two years prior would show up and stake his claim.

a *slightly* twisted, darker spin on meidui's "frequencies of sea and space"

frequencies of sea and space by meidui

“One mil,” a voice says, firmly, and Steve would recognise that voice anywhere. Like thick amber honey, like smoke from a fire, lighting him up and burning him down.

There are no higher bids.

Steve looks across the room and gazing back at him is the face he’s spent two years squeezing his eyes shut at night trying to block out, but those eyes meet his and it’s all over.

From the Ground Up by @omg-just-peachy

Tony and Steve broke up years ago and Tony never quite got over it. When they finally see each other again at Pepper's wedding, Rhodey convinces Tony this might just be his second chance.

Paint the Town Blue by @omg-just-peachy

Ten years since he’d seen or spoken to Tony Stark, ten years since they’d broken up to go away to school. And now this email. It could be his only chance to see Tony again.

I'll keep your brittle heart warm by @omg-just-peachy

They got married when they were young, just twenty-four years old, despite the arguments from their friends that they should wait, that neither of them were ready for a commitment like marriage so young. Steve distinctly remembered Sam pointing out that the male brain isn’t even fully developed until age twenty-five. But they were young and passionate, so sure they’d found their perfect person that they could overcome anything and everything life threw at them. 

And it was true.

For six months. 

it always leads to you by @arabellamonkey

Slowly at first, and then all of a sudden, everything made sense: the way Tony had looked at him that first time when Pepper had introduced them, the way his eyes were always searching for him everywhere they went, and how Tony had asked him about his suit, voice clearly flirty now that he thought about it again. And that smile, oh God, that smile… it had been the same he had given him all those years ago when they flirted in their kitchen. “Wait, you… you recognized me?” Steve asked, eyes wide and voice incredulous. Tony scoffed, expression still bemused, “don’t insult my intelligence, of course I did.” Steve stared at him, both eyebrows raised. “Okay, it might have taken me a few days to figure it out,” Tony ended up admitting.

*** Or, after breaking up five years ago because of heavy miscommunication, Steve gets assigned to be Tony's personal bodyguard.

dreamt of you all summer long by @ifmywishescametrue

Steve spends months after the breakup trying to forget Tony, but it never seems to work. That's alright, though, because Tony can't forget him either.

all I ever knew of love by @stovetuna

For six months, nobody knew that Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were dating.   Which means no one knows they broke up six weeks ago.

Catching Lightning in a Bottle by @sabrecmc

College student Tony meets janitor Steve at MIT and they fall blissfully in love, until Howard happens and things fall apart. One divorce paperwork snafu courtesy of the ever-helpful Jarvis, and ten years later, Tony has to get re-divorced from Steve.

This does not go as he imagines.

Or, the Sweet Home Alabama AU that no one--well, okay, a few of you--asked for.

Modern Love by @captainneverever

Tony drifts into a relationship with Steve after a one night stand. He thinks that Steve is modern and well adjusted to the 21st century but finds that Steve is old-fashioned in unexpected ways.

Captain Coffee by @captainneverever

Steve is content managing his own coffee shop and life is full with friends and neighbors. But an owner of big coffee chain pressures him to sell and someone from his past reappears. And now Steve needs to fight a bully, an ex, and himself to get his happy ending.

Never Worlds Apart by @kandisheek

It's been six years since he's seen Tony when he walks into his favorite diner and sees him sitting in their old booth, as if nothing ever happened. Steve can't believe the nerve of Tony to just show up out of the blue after the way he ended things.

Turns out Tony has a reason for wanting to make amends. And Steve doesn't appreciate only finding out about it after Tony has already almost died.

Plausible Deniability by nowalee

Tony and Steve broke up a month ago. Now, Tony is back because Fury wants him for an undercover mission. Only catch? Steve has to go with him, because the public doesn't know they broke up yet. It's a perfect cover.

And Tony can totally be alone on a mission with his ex who he isn't over yet. What could possibly go wrong?

You, Me and the Christmas Tree by @wikketkrikket

Steve thinks Tony is drinking. Tony thinks Steve is cheating. They both think their marriage is over. They are just going to give Peter one last family Christmas because he thinks everything is fine.

None of them are wrong, but none of them are right either. When Steve and Tony get snowed in together 3 days before Christmas, will the enforced proximity be the time they need to figure things out?

(Spoilers: yes, yes it will)

[luveline]

if you're still taking them I would love to make a request for Eddie and Roan! do you know how sometimes little kids will call their parents workplace just to talk about the most random things or just ask some totally super important question? I feel like roan would do that with the reader and Eddie

thank you for your request!! eddie and roan —roan learns how to use the phone, 1.3k

Eddie used to feel nervous when the phone rang for him at work. "Call for baby Munson!" shouted across the shop while Eddie was usually flat on his back under a truck or elbow deep in a scooter engine, he'd get this pit in his stomach thinking something was wrong. 

It was usually daycare. Roan's sick, Roan's wet herself and her spare clothes aren't here, is Roan allergic to veggie sticks? Because she's saying she is. 

But nowadays, a phone rings for him and it's almost always you with something nice to say. You miss him. You've been thinking about him. All manner of gooey soft confession that has him clutching the phone like a loser, desperate for your voice. 

He springs away from his lunch when he's called. Darwin gives Eddie a funny look as he passes the phone. 

Eddie shrugs it off. "Hello?" he asks. "Y/N?"

"It's me!" 

Eddie feels his eyebrows leap up. "Hi, me." Roan hadn't ever used the phone unassisted, to his memory. "Where's mom?" 

"She's trying to fix your hair dryer." 

Eddie hears it, then, the roaring blow in the background. "Why does it sound like that?" 

"She dropped it. I think she's sad." 

"Ro, I fixed it!" you shout, followed by an even louder howling of air, and a heavy silence. "Okay, I didn't." 

"Is that why you called me?" Eddie asks, bemused.

"No, I called you because I want to know how they make corndogs. How do they get the hot dog inside of the corn, dad?" 

Eddie puts his hand on the wall to steady himself as he laughs. "You wanna know how they make corndogs? Are you gonna make some?" 

"I could if I knew how!" she stresses. "I'd ask mom, but she's pre-oc-u-pied."

"That's a big word, babe, where'd you learn that one?" Eddie asks, impressed. 

"Dad, corndogs!" 

"Right, right. Okay, well. They put the hot dog on the stick first, and then the corn part is actually batter. They roll the hotdog around in the batter and cook them together in the fryer. So it isn't the hotdog going into the corn, it's actually corn going on the hotdog." 

"Batter like for cakes?"

"No," he laughs fondly. "And it's not sweet corn, babe, it's something called cornmeal. Maybe we can make some this week, wouldn't that be fun? Then you can see how they make them for real. I think that would be super fun."

His bubbly tone attracts the attention and subsequent laughter of his colleague. He throws them all the bird, totally content and more than happy with his life and his curious girl. 

"Yes," Roan cheers, dragging the 's' syllable until she's out of breath, "oh my god that would be so fun!" 

"Okay, then that's what we'll do. Are you being good for mom?" 

"I'm being awesome." There's a weird crunching noise. "Did you hear that? I think she put the screwdriver in the hairdryer again." 

"Again?" Eddie asks worriedly. 

Roan must put the phone down. Eddie genuinely can't hear a thing, until you pick up the receiver and say, "Hallo?" 

"You blowing up the house?" 

You make a pleased noise that has his heart doubling in size. "Hi, Eddie. I'm having a technological mishap, but rest assured, we are in no danger of explosion. Anymore. What did you call for? It's lunch, isn't it?" 

"Actually, Roan called me. She wanted to know how to make corndogs." 

"You do know everything," you say. "Go and eat your lunch, baby. We'll still be here when you get home, yeah? I love you. Roan, come and tell daddy you love him before we hang up." 

A small silence. "Dad?" Roan asks. 

"Yep, still here." 

"I love you, okie dokie? Please come home in an hour."

Eddie laughs warmly. It's more like four hours, but whatever she wants to think is what he'll tell her. "I love you. Tell Y/N I love her, too, will you? Thank you." 

"Yes!" Her voice comes quieter, "I love you," Roan says to you. 

"I love you, too. Let's make dinner." 

You must think he's said goodbye, because the phone gets a knock and the dial tone sounds. 

—

You're sitting at your desk shovelling pretzels into your mouth while you click around your emails when the phone rings. You slide it between your ear and shoulder, pausing your frankly messy chewing. "Hello and good afternoon, Y/N L/N speaking, how can I help?" 

"Y/N?" Roan says worriedly.

"Roan? What's the matter?" 

"Oh, it is you! It didn't sounded like you at first, that's weird." 

"Sorry, gorgeous, I was using my voice for fancy grown ups."

She giggles like this is the funniest thing you've ever said to her, "You're being funny," she praises. 

You're secretly incredibly pleased. Making your six year old laugh never gets old. "So nothing is wrong, then? You know, those numbers on the fridge are for emergencies." 

"This is an emergency." 

"Yeah, I bet. What's going on? Where's dad?" 

"He's making toffee cake for you. I was helping him do the buttercream but my arms got tired from whisking." 

"Is that why you're calling me?" 

"Yeah." 

You dig for a saltier pretzel and chew thoughtfully. "What's the tiredest part? Your shoulders?" 

"And my fingers." 

"Asked daddy to kiss 'em better?" 

"I would but he's trying to be perfect about the cake. It looks yummy." 

"Did you get to lick the bowl?" 

"Yeah, and dad let me eat a spoon of the melted chocolate. It was pretty great." 

You grin into the receiver. "I bet it was amazing. Maybe you can try and rest your poor arms. Make daddy pour you a big glass of cranberry juice with the heart shaped ice cubes and watch TV until I come home, okay? That's an order."

"Okay," she laughs. "When are you coming home?" 

"I can leave in about twenty minutes, and the drive home takes another twenty, so…" You check the time on your computer. "I think by five." 

"Ugh, that's forever away." 

"I know. Do what I said, okay? Sit down on the couch. I can have a little look at your arms when I come home, maybe we can have a pamper night tonight. We can use some of my fancy lotion and rub it in like a massage," you say. 

"That sounds nice," she hums. 

"Alright, sweetheart. Listen, can I talk to dad before I go back to work?" 

"Yep, yep." You know what's coming as soon as she inhales. "Daddy!" she bellows at the top of her lungs, "Y/N's on the phone!" 

It's flattering how swiftly he gets there. "Hey?" he asks. 

"Hi, do we need anything for me to grab on the way home? I know you ran out of deodorant, was there anything else?" 

"Nothing I can think of. You okay?" 

"I'm awesome. I told Ro you'd make her a big cup of juice for her sore arms." 

"She told you about those, huh?" He kisses her audibly. "She's the best mixer ever. I was thinking we'd change her name to kitchen aid." 

You choke on a pretzel. Coughing, you laugh through a chastisement. "You leave her name alone. Roan is a nice name all by itself." 

"If you insist," he says grandly. "See you in an hour? I've got a surprise for you." 

"I can't wait," you say. You'll pretend to be totally surprised at his cake, no problem. Anything to make him smile. "Love you both. See you soon." 

"Love you. Say love you," Eddie prompts. 

"I love you!" Roan yells. "I'll make dad put your blanket in the dryer!" 

You put down the phone with a small smile, wondering if you can weasel your way past your eagle-eyed coworkers for an early finish.