#it also helps to have a voice kink but. store bought is fine

[twinknote]

help i kind of love the guy i just spoke to abt mold and asbestos testing solely based on his voice

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 25 - restraining

stray kids 1.3k words gender neutral reader insert Reader x Lee Minho NSFW

🖤 warnings: ropes n knots n such, lino is a little bitch and it’s his best quality, a boner but no explicit sex so you’re safe lmao 🖤

🎂 happy minho day~

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

It's like he's teaching you not to say anything unless you mean it.

Sure, you'd snapped at him, last time. It was hasty and it wasn't all that nice, but you'd been at the end of your rope, and you didn't mean anything by it.

Minho is squirmy, see.

Impatient. Handsy, with you, and heaven help anyone who tries to get him not to be. He doesn't listen well, and he doesn't set much store by rules or recommendations. That's fine, most of the time, because it's funny and it pisses off other people.

But when you're trying to get through a scene with the newest toy in his collection, something that he'd bought and he'd wanted to try, with you in charge, and he doesn't listen?

When you tell him to keep his hands to himself, and he can't? When you tell him to wait for you, and he doesn't?

It's not exactly easy.

"What the fuck am I gonna have to do, tie you to the bed?!" you'd snapped, when you'd found Minho's hands up your top for the tenth time that night.

You'd thought, at the time, that he was mad about it.

He went silent after you spoke to him like that, letting you finish up without any more argument or sneaky touches. It's not like he's shy with his opinions, but the way that he'd clammed up was not unlike the way he pouts when he feels wronged.

It's also not like you're too self-important to apologize, and the next time the two of you carved out time to be together (he's not that upset, you'd thought, or else he would have blown you off), that's exactly what you intend on doing.

You let yourself into his place and head for his room, like always. When you get there, you find two things.

Minho, and a roll of extremely nice kink-grade rope.

"What's this?" you ask, equal parts suspicious and interested.

"You don't know?" he says. "It was your idea."

"My idea?"

"Yeah. You wanted to tie me to the bed," he says, in an awful approximation of your voice.

He's such a pain.

He's not angry, which is good, and it doesn't even seem like he wants you to apologize, but goddamn is he a pain.

"I wasn't thinking, when I said that, I didn't mean it," you say, exasperation replacing everything else.

"How am I supposed to know when you mean it and when you don't?" he says, all mock innocence. "You said tie, I heard rope, here you go."

"If you could just listen, I wouldn't have to say things like that," you answer.

Minho's grin, so feline, so fucking attractive, is dark and knowing. "I don't listen, we both know that. So there's only one solution."

It's obvious that he wants this. Very badly, considering he ordered rope and had it ready after approximately four days. It's also obvious that he's going to make it seem like your idea, rather than his. Idiot. Can't even admit when he wants something.

"To tie you up," you say.

"Like you want. Like you threatened."

You'd be more annoyed about his attempts to bait you, if you weren't so certain that he would look fantastic all strung up and unable to move.

"You don't really have a good bedframe for that," you say, all appraisal, as you look over his bedroom furniture, his bed's solid headboard.

"That's a cop-out."

"Just an observation."

"So you're saying you won't do it," he prods.

You look at the silky black rope in his hands, and up at his face, trying and failing to look like a picture of disinterest.

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all."

Some time later, you find that you were absolutely right.

He's a vision, like this.

You're far from a shibari expert, but you've done a pretty good job on him with normal artless knots and loops. The length of rope was just enough to figure something out, and Minho himself just laid there in wide-eyed interest as you maneuvered him and the rope and ended up here.

Minho is on his back for you, motionless, completely naked, and gorgeous.

His hands rest on the mattress by his shoulders, secured around the wrists, with a length of rope between them that goes beneath him. If he lifts his hands, the section of rope lets him get only an inch or so up before he's pulling the line under his body taught and digging it into the nape of his neck.

Tension keeps him from just pulling his hands over his head and freeing them, because the trailing ends of the rope go down his spine, a loop around his middle, and then to his ankles. Each free end of rope secures an ankle to the bottom posts of the bed, just barely long enough to hold his legs fast. If he'd gotten any shorter of a rope, you would have run into trouble.

He could just sit up and wiggle free, or he could scoot down the bed and stand up, though his hands would still be tied.

But it works.

Because of course, the intention isn't to trap him with no escape, or to hurt him. It's all in the game, the idea that if he tries to do the small motions that feel the most natural - raise a hand, or bend his knees - he simply can't.

"Not bad," you say, appreciative, running your hand down his torso just to watch him shiver as you slip down the bed again. "Lemme just check the bottom knot..."

Minho has been tugging on his restraints here and there as you worked, but this moment is the first where he really seems to be surprised by them. His hair falls into his eyes as he turns his head to follow you, and he goes to push it back with one hand, only to be stopped. Because of course, he can't do that. He can't move.

He makes a tiny surprised sound, that turns into a whine.

The knot at the foot of the bed is secure, and you stand back up in time to see Minho's cock twitch, leaking an amount of precome that's probably embarrassing him.

"Oh, you like this," you say, needlessly, just so he has to hear it. "You like this so much."

"You wanted to do it," he says, but his voice lacks the bite he probably intended.

"I didn't, actually, but now that we've done it I have no idea how I lived before now," you simper, overdramatic.

"Can you at least undress?" he asks.

You'd felt no need to, as you crawled all over, situating his restraints, so you're still wearing all of your clothes. It's a nice contrast, now. You, still dressed in the clothes you'd put on that morning, normal and unassuming. And him, wearing nothing but his ropes.

"If you ask nicely."

"Can you please undress?" he asks again.

No bitching. No teasing.

Oh, you've got him now.

"I suppose," you say, with a long-suffering sigh.

You could go slowly to tease him garment by garment, but that's no fun for you, not when he's right there and all yours.

No, it's much more satisfying to shed your clothes and climb right up to straddle Minho's waist, to look down on him in his prone position. Normally his hands would be on your thighs, or around your back, going to squeeze your ass, but he can't do that, can he?

"I'm gonna ride you until I fucking cum," you inform him, with the same tone you'd use to tell someone that the mail is here. "And what are you gonna do?"

It's a rhetorical question, but Minho still opens his mouth to answer, and then fades, as he realizes there's nothing clever for him to say.

"Oh, that's right," you say, reaching down to stroke over his beautiful flustered face. "Nothing."

[rebeccccccaaa]

Ѕтдсч’ѕ Мом

_________________________

ɴᴀᴛᴀsʜᴀ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏғғ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Summary: fucking stacy’s mom dude; what else is there to say?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: milf!nat good god, age gap [not established but over 21 cuz drinks lol and pretty big but consensual ofc], major mommy kink lol, unnecessarily using the phrase ‘stacy’s mom’ too much, i might end doing another part even though it’s a long one

ᴀᴜ���ʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: stacy’s mom has got it going on ;)

__________________________

“Did you hear me?” Stacy asked you.

“Huh?” you snapped your head back to her completely unsure of what she said.

You two were hanging around the pool soaking in the sun. It was summer and your college classes didn’t start for another six weeks. You’ve been spending your summer with Stacy and her mom at her beach/fucking big ass mansion in California.

Stacy’s mom worked as an architect or something back home in New York with Stark Industries so to say they were rich would be a huge understatement. She was practically a billionaire like the owner himself. Also the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You’ve had a crush on her since the day you met her back home in New York.

“I asked if you wanted to order pizza? We can get something else but I’m not cooking without my mom,” she giggled.

The day that Stacy’s mom went back to New York for a business trip you guys attempted to make pancakes. Fucking pancakes. And almost burned down the house. Everyday since, you guys have been buying and ordering delivery on everything; she had the money so.

“Oh sure that’s cool. Maybe we can go pick up some beer too?” you suggested.

“I like the way you think, Y/l/n,” Stacy said, pulling out her phone.

You laid back down letting the sun warm your skin before you turned your head back to Stacy.

“When is your mom coming back?”

“Um, I’m not sure but probably sometime this weekend, she shouldn’t have been gone that long. Why? You miss her? Like her more than me?” Stacy jokes, making you flush and get defensive.

“What? No, I was just asking,” you told her.

“Hey, relax I’m just messing with ya,” she laughed.

You breathed out heavily and tried to distract your thoughts but you weren’t doing a good job as you instantly started thinking about Stacy’s mom. Goddammit. You two went inside and heard a knock on the big glass front door and Stacy ran to get the door. The pizza is probably here.

You went ahead to the guest room you occupied and instantly took a cold shower. You were sweaty and overheated from sunbathing not from the insensitive thoughts about Stacy’s mom bending you over the side of the pool as she pumped her fingers in and out of you whispering the filthiest things in your ear, definitely not from that.

You came out and the smell of greasy pizza overcame you. You walked into the kitchen finding the pizza sitting on the counter and you walked over to grab your slice. You stuff the slice in your mouth before turning to grab a beer from the fridge. You grabbed the beer and shut the fridge door only to be completely taken by surprise.

“Got enough for one more gal?” your eyes widen and your breath hitched making you almost choke on the pizza still stuffed in your mouth. You pulled the pizza out and chewed rapidly as her gorgeous smile widened at your flustered state.

“Miss Romanoff, you’re back,” you said, your mouth still full.

“Yup, just got back,” she nodded towards the baggage piled by the living room couch.

“Cool,” you swallowed audibly.

“Mom! You’re back,” Stacy came in; thankfully.

“Hi hon. You two holding up with delivery and junk?” she joked nodding towards the pizza on the counter and in your hand along with the beer.

“Hey, we tried to cook something but we almost burnt the house down so we just gave up,” Stacy explained, grabbing a greasy slice of pizza.

“Ugh, you girls need to learn how to cook. This stuff isn’t good for you to have all day everyday.”

“Well, if you hadn’t left us,” Stacy said sarcastically with a mocking grin.

“Trust me, I didn’t want to,” she said, looking at you.

A few hours had passed and you sat in the living room watching movies with Stacy and her mom. The movie was quite scary since those were Stacy’s favorite and during a particular quiet and suspenseful scene your stomach growled embarrassingly loud causing both of the women to snap their heads to you.

“I- I’m so sorry, I’m really hungry,” you mumbled shyly.

“Lemme order something,” Stacy said, grabbing her phone.

“No, no, no. you girls are done with the takeout. Come on; go wash your hands. We’re gonna cook something together.”

You and Stacy stood at the counter covered in flour tiredly kneading dough with your hands. Stacy’s mom grew up in Russia and she wanted to teach you guys how to make her favorite dish that her mom always made for her for lazy summer nights just like this one.

“Ugh, my hands hurt,” Stacy complained.

“That means you're doing it right,” her mom snickered.

She came up behind you closer than you’d like peering over your shoulder like a vulture. She rested her hand on either side of you cagin you in, pressing against the counter suggestively. You breathing quicken and you could feel her breath fanning over your shoulder and chills erupted all over your skin.

“You doing alright?” she asked you, of which you silently nodded afraid that your voice would betray you embarrassingly in front of her and her daughter.

“Good girl,” she whispered, squeezing your hip making you jolt.

“You good?” Stacy chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said sneaking a glance at Stacy’s mom who carried mischief in her eyes.

You continued to slowly but surely make your dinner for the night until suddenly the doorbell rang and echoed across the gigantic house.

“Expecting company, you two?” Stacy’s mom asked.

“Not that we know of?” Stacy said wiping her hand on her apron before scurrying to the front door.

“You’re doing so good, Y/n,” Stacy’s mom teased.

“Th- Thank you,” you mumbled timidly.

“Of course. Anytime, hon,” she whispered getting closer to you.

“Miss Romanoff,” you whispered, turning your head.

“Yeah?” she smiled softly, her lips impossibly close to yours.

“I- uh, you’re-”

“What are you guys doing?” Stacy asked.

“Y/n’s got something in her eye; poor thing,” she said and you instantly started blinking quickly and rubbing your eye, feigning that uncomfortable feeling.

“Oh no, do you need eye drops?” Stacy asked sincerely, guess she bought it.

“No, I think I’m ok,” you told her quickly.

That’s when you actually registered your surroundings again after being suffocated by Stacy’s mom’s perfume and lusting atmosphere. God, you want this woman to fuck you so badly.

“What’re you doing here?” Stacy’s mom asked in her usual playful manner.

“Well, I wanted to surprise Stacy by taking her to a weekend getaway in Malibu; had I known you had guests. I don’t mean to exclude you,” Jason, Satcy’s boyfriend arrived without notice.

“Oh, it’s ok. I’ve been here all summer. You should go; spend some summertime with your boyfriend for a bit,” you smiled at Stacy.

“Really? I don’t want to leave you all alone,” Stacy said.

“She won't be alone; she’ll be with me,” Stacy’s mom said smirking at you; she pressed her hand to your lower back making you stiffen.

“Think you can handle my mom for the entire weekend alone?” Stacy said laughing but you weren’t.

“Can you?” her mom teased.

“I’ll try,” you said shakily. You were not ready.

“Ok, ok. Let me go pack,” Stacy said, turning to Jason excitedly.

Jason followed in pursuit hot on her heels leaving you alone for a moment with her mom. She caged you in her arms as she did before, pressing her hips flushed against your bottom. You gasped softly feeling her cold hands riding up your back under your shirt.

“Miss Romanoff,” you choked.

“Nat; we’re close, aren’t we?” she whispered in your ear.

“What are you doing?” you felt her nails lightly scratching your back making you shudder.

“We’re gonna have the whole weekend to ourselves, hon,” she smirked devilishly.

“Fuck,” you breathed out when her hands brushed to your front, her thumbs grazing the bottom of your breasts.

“Ok, all ready; I think,” you heard Stacy and her boyfriend coming down the stairs. Nat, pushed her herself off you and walked over to her daughter and her boyfriend, swaying her hips just a little bit more than usual knowing you’d kept your eyes subtly trained on them.

“Have fun you two. We’ll see you guys Monday?”

“Monday night,” Jason said.

“Bye mom. Bye, Y/n.”

You waved them off with a small smile, your stomach doing flips anticipated what the hell this woman had in store for you. If she was even going to lay a hand on you, you had no fucking idea. You just stay still, absolutely unmoving, behind the counter.

“Alright, hon. Let’s finish this dinner,” Nat said, turning to you.

Throughout finishing cooking, Nat kept her hands to herself but that didn’t mean she stopped teasing you. Every time you did something correctly, she whispered praises to you that made you wet, arousal pooling between your thighs uncontrollably.

You sat at the counter next to her quietly eating what you made with her help. She watched you carefully to see if you’d like the food and you weren’t going to lie, the food was amazing.

“You did it all by yourself, малышка. Such a good girl you are,” she whispered making you tremble. She picked up your empty plate and carried it to the sink. You sat still in your seat before Nat came up behind, moving your hair from your shoulder and neck. She leaned down and pressed her lips lightly against your burning skin.

“Miss Romanoff,” you said suddenly standing abruptly.

“Yes, hon,” she said.

“W- we, we can’t-” you heavily stuttered.

“Ok,” she responded.

“Wh- what?”

“Ok; I’m sorry,” she stepped away from you. You don’t know why you were so surprised, you literally told her to stop.

“Ok,” you whispered.

“Good night, hon,” she said walking away.

When she was out of sight you huffed deeply feeling like you could finally breathe normally again. You trotted hastily upstairs seeing as Nat was seemingly in her room. You walked up to her door cautiously, light peering from under the door; reaching for the handle but ultimately shied away thinking about the fact that she was your best friend’s mother.

“Fuck, this is wrong,” you said to yourself frustratingly.

You went to your own room closing the door as quietly as possible. You tried to occupy your mind as best as you could running a shower, brushing your teeth, even re-folding your clothes that were already tucked neatly in your drawers. You couldn't shake the feeling of the way her lips felt against your skin.

You were so desperate to be in that position again and Stacy’s out of the house; the opportunity was perfect but of course you cowarded away running off to your room lying to yourself that you didn’t desperately want to spend the night in her bed.

You looked at the time and saw that it was around ten at night deciding it was late enough to hit the sheets; not the ones you want but whatever at point honestly. That proved to be a huge struggle as you tossed and turned for hours. Everytime you close your eyes you're met with those beautiful emerald green eyes that you find yourself getting lost in everytime you see them.

“Ugh, shit,” you groaned, unable to sleep.

You stood up abruptly throwing your sheets to the floor paying no mind to the mess you made. You swung the door open and stomped to her room. You were furious that this woman, who clearly didn’t do anything, was keeping from sleeping peacefully as you had been in the previous nights.

You stood silently in front of her door breathing heavily. What were you thinking? What were you gonna do; yell at this poor woman who didn't do anything? But she did. She kissed you.

“Are you gonna stand out there like a creep or are you gonna let yourself in?” her muffled voice came from beyond the door and your eyes widened.

You hastily turned the knob to her door finding her resting beautifully in the golden dimmed light on her large white bed; the sheets so fluffy she looked like an angel resting on a cloud. She had a book in hand, it was Russian so you couldn’t understand the words. But nevermind that, you stood in front of the closed door with an angry expression on your face.

“Now what’s got your panties in a twist, hon?” she asked, a smirk playing on her naturally red lips.

“You,” you retorted.

“And what do you want me to do about those panties?” she closed her book, setting it on her night stand. God, why did she say it like that?

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why’s that?” she knows why; she’s got you wrapped around her dainty little finger.

“You kissed me,” you said quickly.

“Uh, correction. I kissed your neck,” she swung her legs over the edge of the bed to stand up.

“You- you, you put your hands on me. And- and, and you stopped.”

“Because you said to,” she walked up to you, making your stomach flip.

“I didn’t really mean it,” you whispered shyly.

“Really?” she whispered back.

“Do you want me to put my hands on you again?” she asked seductively.

You hesitated refusing to look her in those perfect green eyes because you know you fall when you do.

“Look at me and use those big girl words,” she whispered, her breath fanning across your face.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please what?” she teased.

You looked up at her letting out a shaky breath. You were about to pass the point of no return and looking into those hypnotizing sage eyes you wanted nothing more than to let her have her way with you.

“Please kiss me,” you whimpered.

Nat grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you flushed against her body kissing you feverishly. Your eyes fluttered closed, moving your lips with hers. Her hands ran up under your shirt ghosting your skin making your skin burst into chills. You practically trembled under her cold hands.

“Красотка,” she whispered against your lips.

“Huh?’ you mumbled dazed and confused by the sudden change of dialect; that was very hot keep in mind.

“абсолютно очаровательны,” she chuckled.

“Wha-?” you stuttered. What the fuck just happened?

She lifted her hands up your body as did you, lifting you shirt off your body. She practically growled at the sight of your breasts. She leaned down, licking along the valley of your breasts peering up at you with those big eyes you loved so much.

She kneeled to the ground pulling your pajama bottoms down your legs torturously slowly. You wiggled your knees back and forth whining at her teasing but she simply nipped and kissed your legs chuckling at your eagerness. She rubbed your legs softly standing up and rested her hands on your hips.

“You are so beautiful,” she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thank you,” you said timidly.

“Come here, Красотка,” you followed her to the bed and you excitedly crawled to the center. Nat stayed standing smirking at your hypnotized expression as she peeled her shirt off her body and dragged her shorts and panties down her legs. She crawled to you with a playful smile on her lips and sat directly in front of you.

You grinned climbing onto her lap kissing her softly. Her hands ran lightly up your back as her lips moved smoothly against yours. You could feel her perky nipples brushing yours pulling soft moans from you. Her hand made its way into your hair tugging the strands to pull your head back. Her lips instantly falling to the skin of your neck sucking marking you as hers. Your breathing became static and heavy and Nat chuckled at your inexperience.

“Tell me, Y/n, have you ever been with a woman before?” she whispered in your ear, her breath making you shiver.

You shook your head.

“Words, Красотка,” she gripped your chin harshly.

“No; never,” you whispered.

“Oh, I’m gonna have fun with you, little one,” she chuckled darkly.

“Oh god,” you moaned.

“You want mommy to show you a good time?” she snickered.

“Please.”

“Lay back, baby. Mommy’s gonna be right back,” she said kissing you softly. Your stomach fluttered as you patiently waited laying on her incredibly soft bed. You turned your head to watch her leave ever so elegantly; her bottom swaying teasingly as she disappeared into her closet. She walked out with a huge strap and some silk ties and your legs started to shake from excitement? Fear? Both? Yeah, both.

“Safe word?”

“Milf,” you said cheekily, making her laugh out loud.

“Funny.” she mocked, shaking her head.

“Arms up. You let me know if it gets too much ok?” she said cupping your face sweetly.

“Ok; mommy,” you grinned before she kissed you quickly.

She moved up your body straddling your waist to tie the silk ropes around your wrists and the bedframe. You could feel the warmth from her core grinded against you and you felt yourself grow hot under her and bit your lip shyly. She peered down at your flustered state and smirked, proudly seeing you already squirming haven’t even laid a finger on you. She tugged harshly on the knots making sure you had nowhere to go and your stomach flipped when you tested it and you were unable to move your arms from their newfound position.

“Are you gonna tie my legs too?” you asked.

“We’ll take it easy the first night?” First night?

She stood at the foot of the bed staring lustfully into your eyes as she put on the strap, settling comfortably around her hips. She spit in her hand before wrapping it around the standing faux cock pumping and coating it with her saliva. You couldn't help the way you instinctively squeezed the thighs shut in an attempt to relieve yourself.

“Open those pretty legs sweetie. Let mommy take a look at your gorgeous pussy,” her words made you moan softly as you complied.

“So beautiful,” she whispered, almost to herself but you could hear her delicate words.

Her hands came up your thighs and placed them over her own. She brought her fingers down to your core and circled her finger around your entrance. You’ve been aroused since the moment she first pressed her lips against your skin downstairs; to say you were wet was an understatement, you were practically dripping already. She grinned devilishly before pushing her fingers past your folds slowly.

“We're gonna have to stretch you out if this fat cock is gonna fit inside you,” she told you.

You moaned feeling how cold her fingers were, but you loved it. Her thumb came up and pressed firmly against your clit before circling languidly. Your brows furrowed at the pleasure she was stimulating and you bit your lip trying your hardest to not moan like a pornstar.

“I wanna hear you, Красотка,” she pulled your bottom lip from between your teeth.

“Ugh, mommy. That feels so good,” you breathed out.

“Just wait til mommy gets to stuff her cock in this tight little pussy,” she practically growled. Her fingers moved faster in and out of you and you felt that familiar coil in the pit of your stomach, a feeling you often got when you thought about her with your hand between your thighs, starting to build.

“Ah shit, I’m gonna come, mommy!” you whined, tugging on the ropes.

“You wanna come? Come for mommy, Красотка,” she whispered.

Your stomach tightened and your legs squeezed tightly around her waist as you gushed all over her fingers. When you slowly came down from your first orgasm, she brought her fingers to her mouth sucking them clean. Her enchanting green eye locked with yours as she did so; god that was so hot.

“So fucking sweet,” she moaned. She grabbed her faux cock and rubbed the tip along your entrance and you jolted at the feeling.

“You gotta breathe baby, breathe,” she pushed her hips forward and your body tensed up at the stretching her cock was doing to you. Her hands grabbed your waist as she slowly began thrusting her hips in and out. You back arched off the bed; becoming a moaning mess under the stunning redhead.

Nat held a blissful expression watching you write beneath her. It had been so long since she’s ravished another in her bed. And she’s kept an eye on you for a while. You were this sweet little thing that walked through the elevator doors back home in New York and Nat knew she wanted you.

She’s always known and saw the way you let your eyes linger. The way you stuttered when she asked you a question. The way you’d instantly freeze when she grazed her fingers over your waist, or pressed her hand on your lower back to get past you for whatever. Most of the time it was just an excuse to get close to you.

You made her feel young again. Reminded here what it was like to be desired by another woman. She knew you would never muster up the courage to actually make some sort of move, especially since you are always with Stacy. Tonight was a perfect opportunity and it terrified her for that moment that she had fucked up and scared you off. She really cared about you and for you; and hurting you was damn near about to kill the woman.

“You're taking mommy’s cock so well, Красотка,” she cupped your face.

You started grunting and whining practically yanking at the restraints. Grinding your hips in rhythm with her thrust desperately chasing your second release. God, the woman made you come once and now you’re completely and utterly addicted to her.

“Now, don’t get greedy, little one. Mommy’s giving all she can; do you need to be punished? I can walk away-”

“No! Please, mommy! Don’t leave me, please,’ tears brimmed your ears; you didn’t even want to think about not being her arms right now.

“Ok, then be a good girl and stop whining like a little brat. Is that what you are? Just a greedy whore desperate for mommy’s cock?” her words made you moan and squirm even more.

“No, I’m sorry mommy,” you choked out.

“Oh, Красотка,” she sighed.

She quickly pulled out, making you almost scream. You quickly let out a string of apologies but she simply grabbed your hips and flipped you over to your stomach. She brought her hand up and striked down smacking your cheek so loud it frightened you. However the sting felt so delicious and you shudder secretly wanting more. Her hand ran up your back grabbing your hair harshly to pull your head back; her body molding perfectly against you as she spoke in your ear.

“Красотка, mommy wanted to go easy on you tonight but if you want to act like a whore, you’ll get fucked like one.”

“Fuck!” you cried when she rutted her hips back into you from behind.

Her hand grabbed the globes of your ass, kneading the hot flesh from her spanks. Your upper body was being propped by your elbows until Nat hit a particular spot inside you that made you collapse. Nat smiled proudly to herself, continuing to drive her hips into you.

“Красотка, I can tell you want to come,” she said.

“Yes! Please, mommy let me come! Your cock feels so good,” you moaned muffled by the sheets your face was buried in.

“Go ahead, Красотка. Let go all over Mommy’s cock,” she granted.

“Fuck!” you back arched and your head was thrown back; your toes curled.

You practically trembled feeling Nat’s faux cock hit deeper inside you than any other partner, which wasn’t many to begin with, had ever reached before. Your eyes rolled so far back you felt like you were about to pass out. You’ve never been in such a euphoria high quite like this before and it was overwhelming. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you cried Nat’s name until everything went black for a moment.

You pried your tired eyes open realizing you were tucked closely by Nat’s side.

“There she is,” Nat cooed.

“I didn’t hurt, did I?” she asked softly.

“No, I feel great,” you giggled.

“You did so well, Красотка,” she kissed your forehead, cuddling you closer.

“What does that mean? The name you called me,” you asked.

“It means ‘beautiful girl’,” she whispered looking into your eyes.

Fucking hell, you were falling in love with this woman more and more with every passing second. You casted your eyes away shyly but she cupped your face and made you look at her again.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” she teased.

“I know it might be wrong, but I’m in love with Stacy’s mom,” you told her.

She smiled softly before kissing you passionately, literally taking your breath away. No other words were exchanged. You simply closed your eyes and basked in what could be the only night you get to spend with someone as perfect as Natasha.

==================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l

@pluto-grl

@partr1dge

@stefans-wife

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (Natasha’s Fics)

@natasha-danvers

@fayhar

@mitchiesdungeon

[qyllenhaal]

Good Wives Club [2]

Lee Bodecker x Reader. 3rd POV. Word Count: 4.2k.

Spin-off to American Pie

Chapter One || Chapter Three

Summary: It's been more than a year since she's escaped the ghost of her past but life is never fair to a girl like her. Lee doesn't care that she has a husband, a nice house, and sugary fake friends, he wants what's rightfully his.

Warnings (series): Cheating, smut, violence, housewife kink, period-typical misogyny, age gap (about a ten year difference), manipulation, dark themes all around.

A/N: If anyone wants to be added to future tag list just let me know!

Y/n woke up at 5am with a dry mouth and her head spinning. Her night has been plagued with restlessness and she couldn't stay still. When she did fall asleep, it was for small periods of time. Each time she woke up she was not aware of where she was for the first five seconds, panic almost setting in before she registered the sound of her husband snoring.

The end of her irregular sleep cycle ended because she saw the hallway light was on. She sighed when realized it must be time for her husband to get ready for work. She virtually got no sleep and she'll probably be tired for the rest of the day.

She gets up from their creaky bed and starts walking down the hallway. It takes a while for her eyes to adjust to the brightness as she slowly plods down the hallway. She follows the light to the bathroom where she can hear her husband getting ready for work. On the days he goes in this early Y/n is relieved that she doesn't have to get up and cook breakfast for him.

The door is cracked but she opens it to find him inside. She situates herself in the doorway, watching him shave his face through the mirror.

"Good morning," he spoke with a scratchy voice. Even though Y/n didn't marry Llewellyn for love, she's still attracted to him and likes his company most of the time. She feels an ache inside of her that wants him to take her, but after running into Lee last night she's afraid she won't be able to get Lee's face out of her mind while beneath her husband.

"Good morning. Going in early?"

"Yep. Dad wants to do inventory today since he put it off last week."

"Oh okay," she accepts quietly, ready to leave her husband alone so he can get ready in peace.

However he asks her a surprising question, "hey, did you enjoy last night?"

"Uh, it was fine I guess. Did you?" Her hope is that he at least enjoyed himself somewhat.

"You know I don't like that super fancy stuff like that, but I have to eat crow; it wasn't all that bad and Bodecker's not as bad as I thought. He's kind of a funny guy. I still think he's not as hard on crime like everyone claims he is, but personally, he's not that bad. Florence was nice too. She invited us to dinner on Wednesday night, apparently that's the only night Lee has off. I told her we'd be able to join them."

The turn of events was shocking. Y/n couldn't believe her ears and she thought maybe she indeed was still asleep. Lou was not fond of many people and his only "friends" were his two brothers so him warming up to Lee and Florence left her speechless. So speechless that she didn't register the fact that he accepted a dinner invite for them.

"What?"

"What do you mean ‘what’? You dragged me to that dinner last night and wanted me to be nice, and now you're confused when I do just that?"

"I-I'm not confused...just shocked," she admits truthfully, "I can't believe you want to go to someone’s house who isn't your mother house for dinner —are you sure you want to go?"

"We're going Y/n."

His tone of voice indicates that the conversation is done and over with and the decision has been made. Y/n didn't even get to contest his decision but Lou can tell when Y/n is in a defiant mood. Her folding her arms and walking away was confirmation for him. She stalks her way back to the bedroom where she takes to hiding under the covers.

Lee and Lou under the same roof — it makes her stomach churn just to think about it. They're wildly different from each other but the thing she hates about them is what they have in common.

All she can hope is that this nightmare ends and she wakes back up to a life without Lee's ghost lingering around.

-

She decided to go with a floral dress again. She really wanted to take out the checkerboard dress that made her legs look good and showed off her arms, but Lou would have made her change before she had the chance to step out of the house. The floral print is dizzying, but it's the kind of dress that Lou likes to see her wear.

It's just a small dinner at the Bodecker's house but Y/n opts for kitten heels instead of sensible flats. She feels obligated to look her best despite there being less people to dress for. She's never been alone with Florence save for that day at the grocery store. Florence is always dressed to the 10's and Y/n needs to look just as good, if not better. She claims to hate Lee, but it would be so satisfying if she caught Lee ogling her breasts.

"Are you ready?"

Y/n thought Lou was too dressed up for a home dinner of four. He wore a pinstriped suit and those nice leather shoes he bought himself around the holidays.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she sighs in an attempt to let off some steam.

It was a shorter drive than Y/n expected. Florence hadn't disclosed where she lived before, but Brewer Heights wasn't that for them to live at a distance. The sun was nearly dipped over the horizon and the remaining light that hits their house makes it look like a model home. Everything little aspect and detail Y/n was going to compare herself too. She lives in a nice house, but Florence lives in a nicer house. It tears her up knowing she has the ultimate upper hand over Florence in the form of her own husband and she can't even act upon it. She would royally fuck up her life and their lives too if she decide to let her jealousy get the best of her.

As she walks up their stairs as another man's wife, she accepts that she is jealous. She's always been jealous of Florence even when she didn't know her name. What made her so worthy of all of these things? Lee used to act like he hates the woman so she must be a bitch behind closed doors. It wouldn't be surprising if she is because most people in this town will smile in your face and then gossip about you a minute later.

Lou knocks on the door and only a second later Florence is opening the door with a big smile on her face and Lee right next to her. He wore his police uniform without the jacket while Florence looked like a Lilly Pulitzer catalog girl.

It only took one millisecond of their eyes locking together for Y/n to feel the electricity between her and Lee. She drags her eyes away from his, but she can bet that he has a smirk on her face. He always liked to see her squirm; in a good and bad way.

"Y/n, Llewellyn! I'm so glad you could make it! Why don't you come on in," Florence steps to the side, nudging Lee over with her, to make way for Y/n and her husband.

Her eyes scan over every inch of their house. It's warm, cozy, and oddly comforting. Everything little thing was in its place; perfectly dusted and polished. Y/n is sure that Lee had no hand in decorating this place, it screams Florence through and through.

"Dinner is almost ready. I started the scalloped potatoes a little too late, but it should be done soon! Y/n, do you want to help me set the table?"

Y/n didn't want to leave her husband alone with Lee, but she also didn't want to be in the room with just them. She nods at Florence and follows behind her to their kitchen.

The house smells like Lou's parent's house on holidays. Y/n's stomach rumbles and she doesn't realize how hungry she was. She despises herself for wanting Florence's cooking, but she barely ate today because of how nervous she was.

"I already laid out the place mates, you can place the plates and silverware."

Y/n picks up the expensive dining ware that Florence points towards. She wonders if Florence cooks like this all the time, even when Lee works well into the night.

The walls of their dining room have an awful floral pattern. Y/n is beginning to become sick at the sight of anything that pertains to flowers. The cedar table is perfect for accommodating guests and Y/n wonders how many dinner parties they had in this room. Florence seems to put a lot of stock into being a good hostess. Y/n herself has yet to throw a dinner party at her home, but setting the plates on someone else's dining room table feels like practice. She silently imagines her house filled with Lou's family as she cooks dinner for them.

Florence enters the room and starts placing the dishes in the middle of the table. Her presence takes Y/n out of her fantasy, and when she sees how Florence made a 3-course-meal she feels worse.

"Does the food look good? I tried some new recipes from Julia Child's cookbook to try to impress you and Llewellyn," she admits, "I wasn't sure what you two would like, but Lee loves when I make those recipes from Julia Child and I bet Llewellyn would love it too! I could lend you the book some time!"

"Of course. I love her work!" Y/n lies straight through her teeth. She has no clue who the hell Julia Child is.

Florence grabs one last thing before calling the husbands into the dining room. She places one beer on the coasters designated for Lee and Lou. Lou has never been much of a drinker, but she knows that Lee can knock down a few beers in one sitting. He might be on his best behavior tonight in front of his wife and company.

"Dinner's ready!" Florence called out.

Y/n took her seat on the right side of the table and Florence sat opposite of her. Their husbands come walking in laughing as if they were young boys sneaking back into the house during a family get together. Y/n doesn't like it; she doesn't like it at all. They look too cheery with each other and she knows that Lee is doing it on purpose — she can see it in his eyes when he quickly glances at her. He takes pride in making her uncomfortable. Y/n wishes she had that same affect on him to scare him off a bit, but no matter how chummy she gets with Florence, Lee looks unbothered.

Florence stands up from her seat as if she's presenting the food on the table to an audience. Everything is placed perfectly with the main dish being the middle of the smaller plates.

"This looks great honey, you made a whole feast," Lee walked up to Florence's side and kissed on the cheek. Y/n's eyes are trained on his hand snaking around her waist and giving her a light squeeze before letting go. When she pulls her eyes away from his hands, she sees that Florence almost looks shocked at her husband's affection; Lee is definitely putting on a show for Y/n and it's a damn good one.

Lee sits opposite of Lou and the first thing he does is open his beer. The food isn't even on plates anymore and he's drinking.

"I hope you like Schmidt's, Llewellyn. Lee loves it so it's all we have in the house."

"I'm not one to drink beer often, but I'll try it. And call me Lou, Florence."

Lou was acting out of his normal character. Him only interacting with his family and Y/n left him a bit awkward in the presence of others, but around Florence and Lee he seems to be much...warmer. If Lee was someone else then Y/n would be over the moon, but because it's him she can't even force herself to even look happy about it.

Y/n takes note of how Florence places portions of food on Lee's plate. They were small portions too. She was always strict about what he ate and how much he drank. She's surprised Florence is letting him drink tonight, but she must be trying to look nicer in front of guests.

Y/n was not as controlling as Florence. She always let Lou fix his plate to his liking. She thought it made her a good wife for letting her husband make his own decisions. But Y/n felt a tap on her shoulder after she finished making her own plate. He looked down at his empty plate before looking back at her and nodded towards the food.

"Y/n," he tries to whisper but his tone is rather harsh.

"What?" She whispers back in true confusion.

"My plate."

He looked at her as if she was crazy, as if it was a common occurrence for her to fix his plate. She starts to scramble to save herself from further embarrassment, the sound of silverware against plates so loud. She can feel the stares coming from the other side of the table but she doesn't dare look up.

Her skin began to grow hot. Her husband had embarrassed her in front of Lee and Florence. The worst part was when Florence tried to change the subject to something lighthearted to pull the attention off of Y/n. She felt small and useless. Lou never expected her to fix his plate, but he looked at her as if she was crazy for not doing so. She didn't want to spend dinner almost in tears. This changed behavior in her husband is giving her whiplash and making her dizzy.

"So, Y/n, did you enjoy the other night?"

"It was really nice Florence," she replies sheepishly.

"Susie and I put so much work into planning it. You should join us next time! We're going to start working on the fundraising events for Lee's next campaign-"

"Let's not talk about that tonight Florence," Lee interrupts. It was a moment that would've left Y/n embarrassed if she was in Florence's shoes but Florence was much better at masking her emotions. Only for a split second can Y/n see Florence flinch at his interjection before she just smiles.

"Sorry Lee, you know how excited I get about those things," she masks her apology in a cheery voice.

Dinner basically became a probe of Y/n and Lou's relationship. Florence wanted to know how they met, when they got married, how long they had been together, and what their future plans together were. Y/n let Lou answer the last question by herself because she genuinely didn't know what their future plans were. Lou usually wakes up and decides what major life change they're going to undertake, that's what happened when he decided to move to Brewer Heights.

When the topic of work came up, Y/n thought the coast was clear. Lou talked extensively about the work he does with his father and what his plan is for the next five years regarding the business.

"Once my father retires I'll have to hire someone to do his job. I didn’t go study in school after high school so I can't take over his position, even though it would make things easier."

"I'm sure you can find someone. I know it's rare for someone to leave the city and come to this little town, but Brewer Heights is always a nice incentive!"

"It is nice here," Lou agrees, "and it's quiet. We were in Meade before which is okay-"

"But, it's nothing like Brewer Heights," Florence interjects. "So, Y/n, what did you do before meeting Lou?"

Lee had not looked her way since the plate-fixing incident but his eyes were sure on her now. If his mouth wasn't stuffed with food he'd be grinning from ear to ear waiting for her answer. He knows she's not a good liar, but she's going to have to come up with something.

"I helped my mom with her business. She used to sell fruit preserves out of the house before she passed."

It wasn't a complete lie. She did help her mother label her jars, but that became less frequent when her hours picked up at Tecumseh. Her parents didn't know about her job either; she told them she was a waitress and it was a safe lie seeing as they didn't go out to diners.

"I'm sorry for your loss, I'm sure she was a lovely woman if she raised such a lovely daughter! Have you ever thought of continuing her business?"

"Not really. It was pretty small. I still make the preserves sometimes for Lou and I."

"If you wouldn't mind, would you be interested in making some for us one day? You don't have to if you don't want to, but it's just so hard to find any good fruit preserves around town." Florence's social habits were very transparent once you were around her for long; she tends to make it impossible for people to say no to her by making them feel bad about even possibly saying no.

"I'd love to Florence. I have fresh peaches at home and I can make peach preserves."

"Oh I'd love that so much," she fawns, "a jar for me and a jar for Lee! He loves his sweets."

"I'm not too big on peaches, Flo. You know I like cherries more."

"You always have," she leans into him and pats him on the chest before straightening up again.

The audacity of Lee is astounding, however not only is he a cop, he's the sheriff. It's such a cowardly move to pick at Y/n when she can't react, but what someone would call cowardly, he'd call fun. She looks like she wants to disappear from her spot and it scratches an itch for him. He missed seeing her get flustered and if he'd known that it would be much more enjoyable to taunt her while his wife was around, he would have found a reason a long time ago to bring her around.

And as if the night couldn't be more humiliating for her, Lou finished his plate before anyone else. He devoured the food on his plate, like a starved man. Y/n felt embarrassed when her husband went for seconds. He never eats this much at home, even when she makes his favorite meals. It makes her want to reach across the dinner table and smack Florence in the face. She hates her; she hates that she has to smile in her face and be friends with her. It's her own fault for continuing this "friendship" with Florence, but her rage makes her blind to her own faults.

She could ruin Florence's life with one sentence: "I've been fucking your husband for years." She'd cause a scene but it would be so gratifying.

Instead she just shuts her mouth and lets dinner continue without anymore incidents.

-

Y/n thought it would show she was grateful for dinner if she helped Florence with the dishes. She was glad to accept Y/n's help and the two spent their time in the kitchen while Lee and Lou sat on the back porch. With Lee's influence, Lou took another drink out back with him. Y/n wondered what they had to talk about, but she would truly not like to know.

"Your wife cooks like that every night, sheriff?"

"Enough with the title. And she cooks every night, but she went a little overboard since she was happy with having guests," he tells him. If it was anybody else, Lee would just answer the questions and not have any for himself. However, he really wants to know what Y/n has been up to since she's adopted this new image. "How about Y/n? Does she cook for you like that?"

"Not at all. She tries, but she's not the good of a cook," he brings the alcohol up to his lips before pulling away and sighing, "she tries but it's just not her best."

"Her mother didn't teach her how to cook?"

"I don't know much about her family. Her mother was dead when I met her and her father doesn't seem to be doing so well. They're from the same area as my folks but moved when they had Y/n. Maybe she was just too spoiled considering she's an only child."

Y/n's past was a mystery to Lee too, but he's surprised to learn she hasn't opened up to her husband. All he knows is that whether it was her home life or not, something had messed her up and it was almost made worse by her time at Tecumseh. He isn't sure how she made it out, but so much of her old life still bleeds through.

"You know I thought I was getting a good girl. One that would clean and have dinner ready when I get home," Lou continued.

Lee wanted to laugh in his face. Lou is proof that you can come from a smart family and still be dumb as rocks. How could he not know what type of girl Y/n was when he first laid eyes on her? She'd dress just like his sister Sandy; shorts that suffered from mistreatment over the years and a sleeveless blouse that was always stained. He's sure her hair was mussed up that day too. Many people would mistake her for a whore (which many people did see her as one even though she didn't outright sell her body to anyone).

"It can't be that bad," Lee tried to vouch for his former lover. Even he can name some good qualities about her; they just don't include any wifely qualities.

"It's not, but things could be better. Anytime I tell her to shape-up she gets this timid look on her face and flinches a little bit. I try to be nice and gentle but I'm losing my patience with her. I’m not looking to leave her, but what’s the point of marrying a woman who can’t do anything? She won’t even talk to me about having kids — was Florence ever like this?”

“No. Her family is from here so she’s been primed to be a housewife. But I will say it’s not all that fun havin’ a doting wife…she’s overbearing at times and I can never unwind with her around. She’s always on my ass about somethin’.”

Lee felt the need to vouch for Y/n. Anytime he would go to Tecumseh, she would accompany out back or get into his cruiser whenever he told her to. All the gritty things he dealt with at work, everything he kept inside, he dumped it on her. Florence would never sit there to listen to his grievances. Lee would never admit it, but he was vulnerable around Y/n, he knew that she would always be there to listen and he attached himself to that. In the beginning she wasn’t willingly listening to his problems but by the end she was. She took care of him when he was too drunk to go home, or she would let him take his stress and frustration out on her body. However, it doesn’t seem as if Lou is budging; his mind is made up.

“I work long hours. My father is putting more responsibilities on me. I put Y/n in that nice home, the least she could do is not serve me burnt food. Hangin’ around Florence and that Susie woman should have at least influenced her or something,” he continued to complain.

Florence was the last person that would be able to influence a girl like Y/n. Lee didn't know why his wife was seemingly grooming that girl. If anything it was just another person for her to control since Lee started telling her to knock it off. The only time she can get away with controlling her husband is if they're in the company of others where Lee has to be on his best behavior.

Y/n is not the type to be influenced by another woman. The only woman she held in high regard was her mother. Y/n listens to male authority. She listens to a man that will rough her up a little bit but then be sweet on her afterwards. She’s a little fucked up and jaded from her former “profession.” Lee knows this, but not Lou. He seems to know nothing of her past and Lee isn’t going to snitch on her.

“I can talk to Florence and see if she can do something. I know she likes taking people under her wing and shit. She seems to really like Y/n too.”

“I’d greatly appreciate that Lee. I know I sound like I’m hard on her, but I do love her. It’s hard for me to show when she just doesn’t put any effort in.”

"Don't worry. I'll talk to Florence — I'll make everything right."

[kaijime]

perverted

anon. Could I request being Yams sister and Tsukki perving over her🥺 like she’s so innocent, letting him touch her..him rubbing her thighs and “accidentally” pushing his bulge against her ass... maybe him finally snapping and dry jumping her on the couch before fucking her tight cunny into the mattress while Yams is in the other room 🥺🤲🏻🤲🏻

includes. tsukishima kei (yamaguchi is here too but nothing smutty happens with him since he’s your brother)

cw. fem reader, dry humping, dirty talk, humiliation, size kink if you squint, non-con ish?? In the beginning, oral (receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration, creampie

a/n. Wow...no thoughts, head empty. Only this request

It all started as innocent touches on your shoulder and brushing his hand when he sat next to you. But he would never want to do anything else, right? He’s your brother’s friend so he wouldn’t want to hurt you. That’s what you told yourself.

And that’s what you told yourself when he sometimes rubbed circles on your thigh under the sheets that were covering all three of you when you were watching a movie. Your brother would ask what’s wrong when you let out a heavy sigh, and you would reply with a simple ‘I’m fine’.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the corner store and grab some snacks, wanna come with?” your big brothers words being completely ignored by Tsukishima, or so he appeared to be. His gaze was fixated in the movie, but he heard his friends question loud and clear.

“I’ll go with you”

“Are you really that scared of me (Y/n)?” the air could not be filled with more tension after the blonde’s question. You knew he would never try to hurt you, but it still made you nervous having to stay home alone with him.

“(Y/n), stay with Tsuki, it would be rude to leave him in our house alone, I’ll be back quickly. When he shut the door behind him you looked at the tall male, staring at the movie like a fascinated two year old.

“Come (Y/n), sit” he patted the spot on the couch next to him, his demanding tome sent butterflies to your stomach but you did as told. You weren’t afraid of him, but then again you sat next to him. He scooched over to his right, the side where you were seated and put his arm around your shoulder. You were uneasy at first, but then you leaned on his shoulder, the calm ambient in the room was enough to make you fall asleep, so why didn’t you?

Was it because his other hand was rubbing your uncovered thigh, and threatening to touch your lovely parts.

“T-Tsuki, we shouldn’t do this”

“Shouldn’t do what?” and you wondered if it was really all innocent, he’s a friend. You blame yourself for thinking any more if his friendly touches, that’s until he turned your head and pushed his lips against yours. The sudden kiss left your eyes wide, shocked with surprise. The arm that was on top of your shoulders, pulling you close to his figure, is now on your waist and sneaking down to your ass. You moaned into the kiss when he pulled you closer to him, he switched positions to have you underneath him, a leg on either side of your body.

The hot make out session was quickly turning into his hands running all over your body, memorizing the feeling of every inch, every curve, every bump in your skin. He moved his clothed cock against your heat, creating friction where you needed him the most. The only thing that could be heard in the silent house were your breathy moans and his panting voice, every time he moved his hips.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting all along? You’ve been wishing I’d touch you when your brother isn’t looking? He left for a few minutes and your this desperate?”

“I-I...”

“Look at yourself, you can’t even say the proper words, I’m not even inside you and yet you seem so fucked out” you nodded your head as he kept moving, the couch was squeaking at all the movement happening but it could barely be heard from all your loud moans. “Shut it! You wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear you, or I guess you would, let them hear how good I’m ma-”

The sound of keys jingling at the door.

Your eyes shoot open and you push the tall male off of you, quickly arranging yourself so your brother wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Hey, you guys! I found some cheap sodas so I bought them and the chips were two for the price of one so...” and he kept talking about his great experience at the corner store, while you tried to remove the blush from your face, until Tsuki leaned closer to your ear.

“He really has no idea... wanna continue tonight?” you nod your head without looking at him.

“(Y/n)? What’s the matter? You look so red, are you feeling alright?” and Tsuki looked at you with an almost unnoticed smirk, but you noticed it.

“I’m fine, its just a little hot in here” the rest of the night was full of teasing from the blonde male, eyeing you up and down when you got up, resting his hand on your thigh.

This one time you went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, but the glass cup was on the top shelf, making it difficult for your short figure to reach. You were about to ask for help from your brother, when you felt the tall figure behind you, not only reaching the cup for you, but also pressing his erect dick on your ass. Your breath hitched and you were left in shock, doing things while your brother was on the store was something, but doing something so lewd while he could just turn his head a few inches and see you, that made the wet spot in your shorts even more visible.

The night came to an end, and Tsukishima decided he was gonna sleep in Yamaguchi’s room. Yet, when the tall boy walked past you in the hall he whispered.

“Thirty minutes, I want you naked when I go to your room”

You walk to your room, the sound of your beating heart was overwhelming, it was so loud and so fast. You discarded all of your clothes to a corner in the room and laid down on the bed, resting your head on your pillows as you waited for him to come to your room. That’s when the nerves really hit you, you were gonna have sex next to your brothers room, with your brothers friend! What if he caught you guys doing it? What would he think of his cute little innocent sister if he saw her doing it with his friend? If he did catch you guys, you wouldn’t want their friendship to be ruined because of you.

Suddenly the doorknob turned and he walked inside, locking the door behind him and turning to admire the cute naked girl. “He’s fast asleep” He said and walked towards the bed. Standing beside you, admiring your body, glistening in the moonlight that shined through your window.

“Such a dirty little girl, waiting for me with nothing on, just like I asked” He took off his shirt and his sweatpants, left in nothing but his boxers that hid what you wanted to see the most. He took them off, revealing his long erect cock. “Only needy girls stare, are you that needy?”

“I w-want you... daddy” your eyes met, both filled with lust and desire for each other. He made his way on top of you and kissed you, it was deep and needy. It was sloppy and messy but deep down it was filled with all the feelings he had been holding back for you. All those times you would kneel down to pick up something and he only wished he could take you then and there. All the times he saw you applying chapstick and thought to himself how good those lips would feel around his cock.

“Spread your legs for me” and you did, your pretty little cunt on display for him, your slick dripping down your inner thigh. He moves his head down so his face is at the same level as your pussy, and he licks a long stripe through your heat.

“H-hah...” you moan as he keeps licking and lapping up your juices until he sucks on your clit. The pleasure is making your moans go even higher and you cover your mouth with your hand to keep them in.

“You have to be quiet babe, you wouldn’t want your brother to find out his innocent little sister calling out my name, would you?” and he entered a finger into your hole, your walls pulling him in as he was giving you what you wanted.

“T-Tsu- Kei... I want you... I need y-you please!” and he chuckled at your begging, his voice sending vibrations through your cunt. “K-Kei...”

“Use your words slut, tell me what you want- no- tell me what you need”

“I need... y-you Kei, I n-need... I need your big c-cock inside my cunny, p-please... g-give it to me daddyyy... I-I’ll take it like a good g-girl” your words only made him harder and he pulled out his fingers. He touched your cunt with his cock and pushed inside your tight pussy, careless of the fact that it might hurt you.

“K-Kei-i... its too b-big”

“So? You said you were gonna take it, shut up” he spoke next to your ear, and you let out a shuddering breath, holding onto his back for dear life. You left marks in his back that would be completely visible tomorrow morning. “I shouldn’t give it to you if you’re just gonna complain about it”

He spread your legs even more, to reach deeper until he bottomed out. He wasn’t wasting any time, thrusting into your cute cunny like you didn’t have tomorrow.

“I-I... I can t-take it daddy, see how g-good I take it” he put one of your legs over his shoulder reaching deeper with his cock and hitting that spot that made your vision go blank. “I’m a good g-girl daddy... K-Kei, you feel so deep inside... I feel so good”

“If you were really a good girl you would take it all silently, but look at you, moaning so loudly, almost as if you want him to hear you” and he gives a particularly hard thrust that hits your sweet spot just right, leading to your moan slipping out. “I bet he heard that one, do you think he’ll hear this?” and he made a fist in his hand, threatening to knock on the wall next to him, the wall that divided the siblings room.

“N-no, please... I’ll shut u-up, I’ll b-be a good g-girl just please don’t s-stop...”

He went back to holding onto your waist with both his hands, and you grinded your hips to the same pace as he was fucking you.

“What a cute little cunny... too bad its all you’re good for, just a cumslut, but your my little cum slut, right?” you nod your head vigorously, you were so close to your orgasm, his dirty talk and his humiliating words only brought you closer to the edge. “Say it!”

“I’m your l-little cumslut!” you said with tears in your eyes, you shut your eyes close in the middle of your ecstasy, clenching down on him and holding onto his arms as you came all over his cock. The way your cute cunny pulled him inside for more made him go crazy, this cute little girl, to the eyes of anyone you were the innocent little (Y/n), quiet and shy. He’s proud that he’s the only one who can make you shake and squirm while you moan out his name.

He thrusts in a few more times before he shoots his white load into your cunt. He groans and throws his head back in pleasure. When you both come back down from your high he lays down next to you and runs his fingers through his hair with a smirk. He wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, not caring if Yamaguchi walked in right now and saw you like this, he just wanted to hold you close and wake up next to you.

Can you blame him? He’d been wanting to fuck your little cunny for so long and when he finally got to do it, well, he doesn’t want this moment to end.

©️ kaijime | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[songbirdstyles]

lola.

summary: a year in the life with professor harry, post graduation - part 2 of when i’m sixty four

pairing: professor!harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, fluff, some angst? pregnancy stuff!

word count: 18.6k

song inspo.: lola - the kinks

The day is going suspiciously well, so far, and it’s making you nervous.

You’d invited both of your families over for dinner and to break the news and you suppose you’d expected it to go about as horribly as post-graduation dinner had - that’s the last time you’d gathered both of your families in the same place, anyway. You and Harry visited Anne and Gemma quite a bit and you’d gone, on your own, to see your mother (wanted to scope out her feelings for your relationship before bringing Harry to see her again - and, luckily, she seems to be warming up to it) but you hadn’t made another attempt to stuff them in the same room together yet.

Until now. 

You’d made Harry swear to you that he wouldn’t tell his mum or his sister about the pregnancy until you could get everyone at the apartment to tell them together, and that’s what this is - you can hear them, laughing together in the living room from where you’re seated on the kitchen counter, watching Harry work over the stove. You’d been out there with them for a few minutes, laughing and sharing stories before you’d claimed you should probably go help Harry with dinner and retreated into the kitchen. Hearing them all seem to get along should make you feel better about the entire situation but all you can think about is how terribly everything will crash and burn when you finally tell them.

“Don’t y’think you should be out there with them? Making sure no fights break out, an’ whatnot,” Harry questions, turning to glance at you over his shoulder with one quirked eyebrow. “Like having you in here wit’ me, but …”

You shrug, picking at the seam of your jeans (that are beginning to fit a bit tighter than they usually do.) Both of you know that your excuse of wanting to keep him company while he cooks is absolute bullshit but you’re getting too nervous, sitting on the couch between your father and Gemma. Keep thinking that you’re gonna say the wrong thing, accidentally spill the secret before you’re ready. But you just shake your head at him, folding your hands on your lap. “They sound like they’re doing good. No need to interrupt their bonding, right?”

Harry merely hums, reaching down to turn off the stove and stirring his pasta sauce once more before resting his wooden spoon on top of the pot. “You need t’bond too. Been in here practically the entire time.”

“I’m just nervous,” you confess, voice drowned out by a sudden bout of laughter that you recognize to be your dad’s, coming from the sitting room. “My mum just started cooling down about our relationship - now we need to drop this on her.”

“We’re going to have t’tell her at some point. Better now, ‘cause she’s in a good mood.”

You ponder that, letting out a deep breath. You know you’re not being too great of a host, now, holed up in the kitchen instead of being out there but you can’t bring yourself to leave - “Are you almost done with dinner, then?”

He hums, turning around and leaning against the counter so you can meet his gaze. “Yeah - just the garlic bread, still in the oven. S’store bought, but I’m gonna tell your mum that it’s homemade, so jus’ back me up with that, would you? Want her to be impressed with me.”

You giggle, pushing yourself off of the counter and closing the distance between you two. Your arms loop around his neck and his hands instinctively land on your waist, smoothing over your skin through the fabric of the loose shirt you’re wearing - you’d been too paranoid to wear anything tight, because you swear your stomach is starting to round out, just a bit, now that you’ve reached the 11 week mark. “She’ll ask you for the recipe, you know. What’re you gonna do then?”

“Not sure,” he shrugs, leaning down to land a soft kiss on your lips when you pucker them at him impatiently. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess.”

“Sounds like a faulty plan,” but you can’t help the grin from breaking out across your face. You press another kiss to his lips before breaking away, deciding to make yourself useful and reaching up into the cabinet above your head to grab a stack of plates. “I’ll set the table, if the garlic bread will only take a minute or two.”

Harry nods as you pick up the napkin holder, resting it on top of the plates and rifling through the utensil drawer to pick up the six knives and forks you need. “If you’re leaving, maybe you should talk to our family. They probably think you’re mad at them, or something.”

“I doubt they think I’m mad at them,” you tell him, bumping the drawer shut with your hip when you have all of the utensils, firm in your hand. “Why would we invite them over if I’m mad at them?”

“To make amends?”

“For what? Haven’t seen them in weeks.”

“You’re missing the point,” and then Harry rolls his eyes with a small smile, turning back to the stove. “Jus’ go. The bread’s gonna be done in a minute.”

So you do - pad out of the kitchen with your hands full, make your way to the kitchen table that’s been stripped of the usual flower vase that usually sits in the center. Marie sits on top of the table, as though daring you to remove her, but you do, anyway - pick her up, ignoring her soft, angry meows, and set her on the ground with a soft apology and an order to shoo. Immediately you rest the plates on the counter, setting the forks and knives down beside it before getting to work - out of the corner of your eye you can see everyone gathered on the sofas, chattering loudly, and hearing them all getting along makes you smile, now.

Also out of the corner of your eye you can see your mother standing up from her spot, pressed between your father and the arm of the sofa. Then she’s walking towards you, the sound of her low heels on the hardwood making you turn your head to look at her from where you’d been folding six napkins in half.

“Hey, mum,” you call once she’s close enough to hear you without your dad’s rambunctious laughter infiltrating your ears. “Dinner’s gonna be ready in just a minute, alright?”

“Alright.” And you expect her to turn around, head back to where she’d come from, but instead she reaches for the plates, pulling the first one off the top of the stack and beginning to place it around the table. “I just figured I’d help you set the table - if you don’t mind, of course.”

You shake your head, feeling a smile tugging at your lips as you fold the sixth and final napkin in half, beginning to rest them next to the plates your mum is setting up. “‘Course I don’t mind.”

There’s only another brief second of silence between the two of you, as your mother meticulously adjusts every plate so they’re all perfectly aligned with the napkins you’re lying out, until she pauses, hand resting on the edge of one of your white, porcelain plates, finally saying, “It looks like you and Harry have a nice thing going here.”

You pause where you’re beginning to lay out the forks and knives on top of the napkins, trying to resist the urge to grin (or maybe cry, if you’re being honest) as you nod slowly. “Yeah, we do.”

“The apartment is very nicely decorated. Did you decorate it?”

“Mostly Harry, actually,” you admit to her, which is mostly true, anyway, and you relish in the surprise that lingers, ever so slightly, in her eyes. “He lived here for a while before I moved in, so most stuff is his.”

She hums softly and you can hear the oven ding from the kitchen, then Harry shuffling to take the garlic bread out, and then your mother says, “Well, I’m very glad you’re happy. I know I don’t always show it - but if you love Harry and Harry loves you, I’m fine with it.”

God, you really could cry at that, and you’re not sure if it’s solely because of the hormones like you’d love to believe. You’d talked to your mother more times than you could possibly count since she found out about you and Harry and this is the first time she’s ever admitted she’s alright with your relationship - it only makes sense that you would get emotional.

But you swallow the lump in your throat, giving her a small smile from across the kitchen table. “Thanks, mum. That means a lot,” and she looks so relieved with your response that you wonder if the sudden slight animosity between you two had been affecting her as much as it had been affecting you. 

You wonder if she’ll be fine with it once you tell her that Harry knocked you up - but you’ll worry about that later.

Later comes entirely too soon, though, once you’re seated at the dinner table with bowls of pasta and tomato sauce spread out in front of you. Harry sits beside you, arm thrown across the back of your chair as though he can sense how nervous you’re feeling - you’ve barely picked at your pasta and only taken a bite of your garlic bread (which tastes, for the record, absolutely homemade, and not like it was picked up at the store.) Harry’s an excellent cook and what you have eaten, you’ve thoroughly enjoyed, but you feel like if you eat too much you’ll throw it back up.

“This is delicious, Harry,” your dad declares, reaching towards the bowl of pasta for his third helping in the past ten minutes. “You could be a chef, you know.”

Your boyfriend laughs at that, fork full of pasta hovering barely an inch from his mouth. “M’not sure about that - can really only make pasta, to tell you the truth.”

That’s not true, you want to say - Harry cooks nearly all the meals for you two and he’s spectacular at it. Can recreate any recipe first try and make it better than the original - but you can’t bring yourself to interject into the conversation. You feel like you might throw up, to be honest, so you merely flash Harry a tight lipped smile and glance back down at your plate, collecting a piece of pasta onto your fork.

Harry seems much more relaxed than you - diving into a story about how he used to cook when he was a child - which checks out, of course. You had no doubt that Anne and Gemma would be over the moon about the pregnancy, judging from the many dinners and brunches you’d had with them. It was, really, only your mother who would present any sort of issue, and you’d taken to worrying about it much more than Harry had.

“Y/N,” Anne begins from across the table, and you’re snapped out of your thoughts almost immediately, giving her a smile that, you hope, doesn’t put on display just how nervous you’re feeling, “do you like to cook, too?”

You understand her intention - she’d probably assumed, from your almost complete lack of contribution to the conversation, that you’d been feeling left out - but having five pairs of eyes suddenly on you makes you feel significantly more nervous than before, and Harry’s hand lands comfortingly on your shoulder. It takes just a beat too long for you to reply but finally, you reply, “Um - I’m not too good at cooking, honestly. Pretty rubbish at it, actually. I like to bake, though.”

Harry swoops in, then, squeezing your shoulder and continuing, “She’s great at baking! Should try her brownies some time.”

Have you ever made brownies that weren’t from a box? 

You swallow thickly, resting your fork on your plate, and then you add, “I’m best at making things that come from boxes.”

There’s a collective laugh at that, and then your mother pipes up with a story from when you were a kid and she’d tried to get you to help her bake cupcakes for a fundraiser - you’re not quite listening, especially when Harry uses his hand on your shoulder to pull you in to him, lips brushing your ear when he whispers, “I think we should tell ‘em now. Right now.”

You pause, shooting him an alarmed look before he continues, “You’re a bloody wreck, babe, m’sorry. Look like you’re gonna have a nervous breakdown. Wouldn’t y’rather get it over with?”

No, you want to say. You’d rather never do it, but the thought of spending the rest of dinner so nervous you can hardly stand to eat seems akin to torture. Whatever reaction the news garners from your families won’t change whether you do it now or in twenty minutes - why put it off?

So you nod, head jerking up and down once, and Harry squeezes your shoulder again, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of your temple. Your hand nearest him lands on his knee, squeezing onto the fabric of the loose jeans he’s wearing. 

“Actually,” and Harry’s voice cuts through the mixture of laughter erupting at the table. He waits a minute, for it to calm down - in the meantime, he glances at you again, fingers rubbing into your shoulder, and your hand smooths over his knee. There’s a lot being said, in the brief second your eyes lock while he waits for the attention to land on him - it’ll all be okay, and then no matter what, we have each other and the everpresent I love you that lingers whenever you look at him. And - finally - when there’s only expectant silence at the table, Harry breaks your gaze, turning back to your families with a small, nervous smile. “We have something t’tell you all.”

 —

 You’d had today marked on your calendar for weeks, it should be said.

As soon as your doctor - Dr. Ferguson, who Kaitlyn, weirdly, had convinced you to go to - had told you that at your next appointment, we’ll likely be able to tell the baby’s gender, you and Harry hadn’t been able to shut about it. You’d facetimed Anne that night, told her that in two weeks time, we’ll know the gender! And you’d texted your parents the same news - even if they weren’t as immediately excited about the pregnancy as Anne and Gemma, the celebratory Bitmoji they’d sent back made you smile, anyway.

You’d left the house twenty minutes early and still managed to nearly be late, getting stuck in traffic and waltzing into the office with less than two minutes to your appointment. Harry had gone to check you in while you’d perched yourself onto one of the waiting room sofas with cushions that were oddly sticky against your palms, and your knees jiggled up and down as your eyes scanned the room you’d become entirely too familiar with - the wall of pamphlets next to the restroom, the framed photos of happy mothers and pregnant women. There’s exactly one other person waiting in the chair across from you, legs curled beneath her and face buried in a magazine, and you feel oddly uncomfortable staring at her but you feel too nervous to do anything else.

“Said it may be a bit of a wait,” Harry murmurs to you when he’s done signing you in - his arms instinctively wrap around your shoulders, and you rest your head on his with a deep breath. “Somethin’ about her last patient runnin’ late, or something. So - that's good”

You nod, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you lean into your boyfriend. You’re not sure if he’s feeling half as nervous as you are but something about the way he keeps drumming his hand on his thigh, humming softly beneath his breath, convinces you that he might be. So - to break the tension, because there’s something truly terrible about seeing Harry nervous when you’re usually the worrier - you ask, voice hardly above a whisper (out of courtesy for the woman across from you,) “What do you think it’ll be?”

“A boy,” Harry whispers back with not a moment of hesitation, and you furrow your eyebrows at him. “What? I reckon we’re gonna have a little Harry Jr. in there,” and he pats your stomach for good measure.

“You’re crazy,” you tell him, playfully swatting his hand away from you. “I’m almost positive it’s a girl - isn’t there a maternal instinct, for these kinds of things?”

“There’s a paternal instinct too, you know.”

“I don’t think so.” And then you pause, staring up at the smooth white ceiling above you with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “And if it is a boy, I’m putting my foot down on Harry Jr.”

Harry huffs playfully, and there’s a pause between you two before he says, “Should we bet on it?”

You give the words a moment to sink in, and then push yourself off of him, glaring at him and trying (and failing, naturally) to hide the smile that threatens to tug up your lips. “I’m not betting money on the gender of our baby - that’s terrible, professor, really.”

“I never said money,” he interjects, crossing his arms over his chest with one side eye glance at the woman across from, still hunched over the magazine she’s reading. “If he’s a boy, I get a blowjob.”

Your cheeks burn immediately and you raise your hand up, swatting his shoulder with an apologetic glance to the lady across from you, who’s looking up from her magazine with an absolutely affronted look. “Harry!”

But he merely continues on as if he’d been talking about the weather. “And if he’s a girl - well, what do you want if you win?”

Where he was rather blasé about discussing your sex life in front of a poor stranger, you can’t bring yourself to tell him exactly what you’d want if you’re right - so you shrug, focus your eyes on tugging at a loose thread in his sweater. You’d made him change out of the t-shirt he’d been wearing and change into this thick sweater Anne had given him for Christmas - it was December, after all, and he’s terrible when he’s sick. “Well - um - I want you to do the laundry for a month.”

He raises his eyebrow, staring at you with a slightly amused smile, and then questions, “That’s it?”

You can feel your cheeks burning up even more as you continue to pluck at Harry’s sweater. “And - you can’t complain when I wear your clothes.”

“I don’t complain, baby, you know I love when you -”

“And,” you continue, flicking him in the forehead to cut him off. “There’s something else that I won’t say here, because we’re in public, but I’ll tell you in the car.”

Harry raises his eyebrows again and you can’t resist the urge to laugh, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder for a moment to regain whatever semblance of composure you could scrap together. His fingers tug at the ends of your hair as you pull your head back up to look at him, and when your eyes have met he says, “Well, that’s actually quite the long list of things to do if it’s a girl, so I’m changing mine to three -”

Whatever he was going to say (and you had a pretty good guess) is cut off immediately at the sound of one of the nurses calling your name, and your eyes widen with an air of slight nervousness before you both stand - smile at the nurse and follow her down the hall to the exam room that you’ve come to know entirely too well, even if you’re not too far into your pregnancy.

When the nurse leaves the exam room you clamber onto the table, feet knocking into each other you lie back. Harry settles into one of the chairs beside you, pointedly pulling it closer so he can rest his chin on the table. “Are y’going t’tell me the third thing you want if you’re right - which you’re not?”

You merely roll your eyes, turning your head so you can look at him. “Rather like sitting on your face - guess I’ll opt for that, before I get so big I’ll suffocate you if I try.”

He frowns at that, pressing a kiss to your hand where he’s got your fingers intertwined with his. “M’a big boy, you know. I’ll always let you sit on m’face - think I love it more than you do.”

You know he’s wrong but you just press your palm to his cheek, letting him rest his head into your hand before saying, “Don’t think you’re gonna be singing that tune when I’m the size of a whale.”

“Are you kidding?” you’re not, clearly, and he scoffs as if he’s offended by the mere concept of it. “I’ll be singing it until the day I die. I’ll let you sit on my face every single day, jus’ to prove it to you. Don’t laugh - I’m being serious!”

But you can’t maintain any sort of serious composure for more than a moment without grinning, so you rest your head back and gaze up at the ceiling while Harry continues to fuss about how much of a disgrace it is - that you’d ever dream of yourself being too big to sit on his face, but you opt to merely block him out, feeling your own worries starting to swell back up in your mind now that you’re not focused on talking to him. You don’t care, truthfully, if your baby is a boy or a girl. You’d be just as happy with either but for as long as you’d known you were pregnant, you’d sworn up and down that it’s a girl. Blamed it on your maternal instinct and all that, because you simply knew you were having a daughter.

If you’re wrong, does that mean you have no maternal instincts? Are you going to be a bad mother?

The door to the exam room opens again before you can focus too much on it, and Harry’s ranting about you sitting on his face ends so abruptly you could swear he’d never even opened his mouth. Dr. Ferguson gives you both wide smiles, asks the general questions - how’s it going? How’s baby? How’s mom? And you squeeze Harry’s hand when she finally settles beside you, turning the ultrasound machine on, and you reach down to tug your sweater up.

“Generally, 15 weeks is where we can determine the baby’s gender - assuming they’re in the right position to check,” Dr. Ferguson tells you, using the probe to spread the cold gel on top of your stomach. Your fingertips drum against the back of Harry’s palm as she asks, “Do you guys think you want to know the gender of the baby?”

You nod furiously as Harry proclaims, “Yes - definitely. Been talking about it for weeks, haven’t we?” And - because he tends to ramble a bit when he’s nervous - he continues, “I think s’a boy - she reckons it’s a girl. We’ve got a bet going, about it, too -” and that’s where you squeeze his hand and shoot him a glare to shut the hell up.

The doctor merely chuckles at the pair of you, raising a manicured nail to point at the ultrasound screen as she moves the probe closer to your lower tummy. “Unfortunately for you, Mr. Styles - I think you’ve lost the bet.”

There’s a pause after that, the both of you letting the words settle in.

If he lost the bet - then that means -

“It’s a girl?”

Harry’s words come out in barely a breath, and you can feel the familiar prickling in the back of your eyes as you squeeze Harry’s hand. 

“You two are having a girl,” Dr. Ferguson confirms, a smile spreading across her face as she watches the two of you - your eyes well up with tears as you turn to look at Harry, his mouth dropped open and upturned ever so slightly in a wide grin. Your eyes meet and you swallow thickly, not bothering to try and hide the smile that graces your features as he stands up, throwing his arms around you in a tight hug. Neither of you pay much mind to the doctor as she murmurs, “I’ll go and get your prints,” and slips from the room, but you’re beyond thankful - you need a moment with him, for this.

As soon as the door shuts you let the tears drip down your cheeks, burying your face in Harry’s sweater and wrapping your arms around his torso with a soft hiccup. His voice is soft when he mutters, “Can’t believe we’re gonna have a baby girl - God, you were right.”

Your cold hands slide up his sweater, smoothing up his warm back, and you can feel him jump at the contrast of temperatures - “I knew it,” you can’t help but declare quietly, voice crackling wetly as you sniffle. “Our little girl. I knew it.”

He chuckles, which is mostly a soft exhale into your hair. “Can’t believe you’re turning this into a told you so moment.”

“Only saying that ‘cause you lost.”

There’s no response from your boyfriend for a moment - mostly because he knows you’re right - just his arms tightening around you. “Oddly enough, I don’t quite think I mind losing.” The sentiment is sweet and you pull back, leaning up to press a lingering kiss to the underside of his jaw, and you almost miss the mischievous smile spread across his face, even if the way he’s rubbing your back is ultra innocent.  “I get a daughter and my ultra hot girlfriend is sitting on m’face tonight - what more could I ask for?” And, for that, you smack his shoulder again, laughing through the joyful tears blurring your vision.

 —

 “Are you honestly mad at me right now?”

You huff, sinking lower into the couch at Harry’s mocking tone. Truthfully - though you wouldn’t admit it to him - you are feeling just a bit cross, as you stare at the ten cards in your hands that are nowhere close to being a run of seven. “No,” you tell him, shorter than you’d anticipated. “But you’re three phases ahead of me, and I feel like you’re rubbing it in.”

Harry rolls his eyes playfully, resting his elbows on the coffee table across from you. You’d started out both sitting on the couch, but then you swore you caught him peeking at your cards and banished him to the other side of the coffee table, on the ground, no matter how many times he promised he was just changing the music blaring from his phone. (Which, for the record, you didn’t believe, because he was a firm believer in letting the music play out and never changing it.) “Baby, m’not rubbing it in. Jus’ playing the game.”

“You keep skipping me,” you mumble, barely audible over Ring of Fire coming from his phone on top of the table.

“S’how you play the game. So if you happen to go out, m’not stuck with 15 extra points.”

“You know I’m never going to go out, right?” And just to prove your point, you reach in to grab a card from the deck, rolling your eyes when you see it. It’s another three, your fourth one, and you rest it on top of the discard pile with a pointed glare at Harry. 

He merely shakes his head, reaching in to take a card. “I don’ even know why you wanna play Phase 10 all the time, ‘cause you always get mad at me when we do.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, a frown tugging the corners of your lips downwards. “That’s not true! I don’t get mad at you. Just get irritated, because you’re good at it, and you always beat me.” There’s a pause while you wait for Harry to discard a card, and when you look up at him, he’s gazing at you with a slightly guilty look in his eyes. “You’ve got to discard a card, Har.”

And then, instead of putting a card down on the discard pile, he lays down his cards on the table - a set of sevens and a set of tens. Your shoulders slump as you stare at his completed phase and then at the cards in your hand, still a jumbled mix of numbers with absolutely no hope of becoming a run anytime soon. 

“M’sorry for this, honey,” Harry tells you, voice faux sweet, and you look back up just in time to catch him placing his skip down on the discard pile, making it his turn again. And, just as you open your mouth to say something, he reaches for the deck and pulls a card. You watch, feeling heat creep up your neck, as Harry slaps a wild card down next to his set of sevens and then presses his final card - a two - into the discard pile - fuck.

“Jesus fuck,” you exclaim, tossing your cards down onto the coffee table. Harry’s staring at you with a smug, satisfied grin on his face, and you could reach over and slap it right off. “How?”

“S’just luck,” he tells you, as if he’s the master at it, as he reaches over to collect your cards off the table. “You’ll get it next time, alright? S’just a game, it’s fine.”

“It’s easy for you to say.” You cross your arms over your chest as Harry mouths the point values of your cards, flicking through your stack. “Mr. ‘I’ve-Gone-Out-Every-Single-Time.’”

He snorts at that, grabbing all of the cards strewn about the coffee table and shuffling them together. “You had two skips, y’know. Why didn’t you skip me? 15 points each.”

“Because I felt bad,” you tell him, frown deepening at the way he barks out a laugh. “Why’re you laughing? Was just trying to be nice.”

Beside Harry, resting on the carpet, is the stray piece of notebook paper he has to add up your scores with each round, and you sigh, reaching for the stack of cards so you can begin shuffling them. “The point of the game isn’t to be nice, baby. You’ve gotta play your skips - that’s why you’re 325 points behind me.”

You can’t put your finger on why you’re getting so worked up over this. It is just a game and you know that but you’ve always been competitive. You’d been rather proud of how, nearly 21 weeks into your pregnancy, mood swings hadn’t been hitting you as hard as you’d expected - but, God, they’re getting you now. And Harry is four phases ahead of you now, and what’s worse than being beaten is that it is just luck, which means yours is being really shitty right now, and you’re tired of it.

You focus your eyes towards your lap where you’re working on shuffling the deck as the song segues to Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, just a bit too loud for you to handle. “I just wanted to be nice,” you repeat, cringing at the voice crack that cuts through your sentence. From the corner of your eye you can see Harry’s head snap up as he hears it, his brows furrowed. “God, I hate this game.”

There’s another beat of silence, and then Harry’s pushing himself up off the floor, coming to sit beside you on the couch. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you to him (as close as he can get, with your rounded tummy between you both) as his lips land on the top of your head, and, as nice as he’s being, you can feel how his lips are turned up into a grin. “Are you going to cry?”

“No,” you insist, but the frustrated tears prickling the back of your eyes are on its way to proving you otherwise as you lean your head into his shoulder.

Harry’s hand smooths up and down your back soothingly as you sniffle into his shoulder pathetically. “Sorry for teasing you,” he murmurs, barely heard against the music, and you nod slowly. “You’re jus’ being nice, and that’s very sweet, even if it goes against the point of the game -” and, for that, you raise your hand up and land it against his shoulder with a firm slap, and he laughs - “but I’m sorry, really.”

You press your cheek to his shoulder, leaning in to press a small kiss to the side of his neck. “It’s just hormones, I reckon. Didn’t mean to get so upset.”

“Should have a word wi’ the little one,” Harry murmurs, sliding his hand around from your back to your stomach. The second he’d started to notice your stomach growing he’d become obsessed with feeling it, which you suppose you should have been expecting all along, really. “Tell her not to make mommy so sad, right?” You exhale a soft giggle at that, and he hums contentedly. “But I guess s’my fault too, getting all the good cards.”

You lift your head up, pulling away slightly so you can look into Harry’s slightly amused eyes, and he’s still smiling softly. “Awfully rude of you to be so good at Phase 10,” you tell him, pouting dramatically as you gaze at him through your watery lashes. You’re already feeling quite a bit calmed down and also fairly silly for getting so upset about something so trivial, but what’s done is done, you suppose.

He nods, and you can see the laugh he’s struggling to conceal as he tries to keep up his serious facade. “It is rude of me,” Harry agrees. “I can be a real asshole sometimes.”

“A real asshole.” 

“Should probably make that up to you, right? But how will you ever forgive me?”

You pause, pretending to think as you gnaw at your bottom lip, eyes darting around the apartment as if searching for ideas. “Dunno. You’re really gonna have to work for it, professor.”

The instant effect the name has on him never fails to amuse you as his gaze darkens - hardly noticeable to anyone who doesn’t know him as well as you, but you can read him like a book. Harry’s thumb swipes up to wipe at the tears, still brimming in your lower lash line, as he says, “Lay back f’me, then.”

You grin as Harry unwinds his arms from around you, shifting backwards until you lie across the sofa, instinctively throwing your legs across his lap, just to watch the way he playfully rolls his eyes. His hands smooth up and down your calves, fingertips drumming against your skin, and you push yourself onto your elbows. Wiggle your feet at him, and Harry smiles at you. “Don’t think you’re far enough along to need foot massages.”

“First, I absolutely am, and second, I don’t need them,” you agree, “but I want them.”

“Another time,” he promises, shifting off the couch so he’s on his knees beside it. One soft kiss lands at your ankle and it sends shivers through your body as you watch him, shifting so he’s positioned between your thighs. Harry leads a trail of kisses up your legs, hands following behind his mouth, massaging up your legs until he reaches the soft skin of your thigh. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him, lips attaching to your inner thigh, suckling in a love bite. He loves leaving marks in places only he sees - your ass, namely, and your thighs and your boobs and everywhere else that’s reserved for him. In summer it becomes a problem, when you have to don swimsuits and shorts to bear the heat, but it’s January, now, so you let him go wild with his hickeys.

“Harry,” you groan, reaching down to curl your fingers into his hair. He looks up at you with a bemused look in his eyes, tongue lapping over the mark he’d left on your thigh. “Don’t tease me.”

He chuckles breathily, blowing softly on your wettened skin, and you whimper quietly. “M’not teasing,” Harry assures you, hands working up your thighs until he reaches the hem of your panties, fingers hooking into them to begin pulling them down your legs. “Jus’ taking my time.”

You lift your hips up so he can discard the offending material, tugging them off of your ankles and tossing them onto the coffee table, right on top of the abandoned Phase 10 cards. Fingernails scratch against Harry’s scalp, twirling his curls around your fingers, and you can see the blissful smile that briefly graces his features before he returns to the matter at hand. He grips the bottom of the oversized shirt you’re wearing, pulling it up around your waist, and then he mumbles, “Bloody hell, s’that my shirt?”

You laugh, the noise soft and barely perceptible over the horns in Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You. What you want to say is that, truthfully, his large shirts are one of the few that fit your stomach, so you opt for them most times - but Harry isn’t looking for a response. He just grabs your wrist, drags it to your waist where the shirt is bunched up, and you take the hint to grab onto the material, pulling it up over your stomach. Make sure he has enough room to work, without it getting in the way.

“God,” he mutters, grabbing your thigh to hoist it up, putting your glistening pussy on display for him. “You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” You can feel emotions bubbling in your chest with just the small compliment, and further as he breathes, “Not sure how I got so lucky. M’fucking obsessed with you.”

You’re beyond thankful that he doesn’t look up into your eyes again, because you’re not sure that he’d ever let you live this down - your eyes, filled with tears about to trickle down your cheek while he’s inches from your cunt. But he merely leans in, presses a soft kiss to your clit, and you’re too distracted by the sudden jolt of pleasure to think about the moisture building up in your eyes.

You moan at the same time Harry does, his tongue licking up between your folds. His noise rolls through your body and you toss your head back, hitting against the arm of the sofa with a long whine, cunt clenching around nothing as he laps at you. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you slump against the couch, not bothering to try and hold yourself up to see what he’s doing to you.

But - well, you should’ve remembered that Harry is a stickler for eye contact, and within moments of your gaze being torn from where he’s working at you, he stops. Pulls away so the only place you can feel him is his hand on your thigh, holding you up, and you push yourself up again to glare at him. “No teasing, Harry, please -”

“Y’gotta look at me,” Harry tells you, raising his eyebrows. “Come on, baby. Wanna see your pretty face - yeah, that’s a good girl.”

A soft moan escapes your throat at the pet name, and you focus your attention on not dropping your gaze from Harry’s head between your thighs. He takes a second to make sure your eyes are firmly on him, and then you’re groaning for fuck’s sake, professor, do something, and he’s back to it. His hand that’s not maintaining grip on your thigh joins his tongue at your pussy, spreading your lips apart to give him easier access to exactly where you need him. You watch as his tongue flexes, sliding into your dripping hole, fingers working at your clit.

“Oh, fuck!” you gasp, walls fluttering around Harry’s tongue. Your clit is pulsing with the pressure of his finger, rubbing circles into the sensitive nub, and with your eyes focused on him you can catch exactly the way his lips upturn into a cocky smirk. He’s the only one who can make you fall apart like this and he knows it, and it should bother you but it only turns you on more. “God, Har, keep doing that, please.”

Harry hums softly, “M’not planning on stopping,” as his tongue dips in and out of your cunt, lapping up every last drop of your arousal lingering on your folds. “Tell me how good it feels, baby. C’mon, wanna hear how much you love it.”

What a dick, you think as you stare down at him. Harry’s fingers slide down from your clit to your hole, replacing his tongue, pumping in and out of you. The first curl of his digits brushes against that hidden spot inside of you and your hips roll forward into his hand as his lips wrap around your clit, tongue flicking firstly against it before he hollows his cheeks out and sucks. “Oh - god, Harry! Feels so good, love it so much -”

Your eyes meet his again and he raises his eyebrows, silently egging you on, and you continue, voice high pitched and breathy as you cry, “Please, make me feel good, please!”

“That’s m’girl,” Harry grunts, fingers digging into your thigh so hard it’s sure to leave marks, and then his face is sinking back into your folds - his tongue licks up your folds, nose nudging your clit, and you collapse back against the couch. If he was focused on watching you surely he would see how you’ve abandoned the eye contact but he’s paying attention solely to the pleasure he’s giving you. His tongue flattens as he licks up your folds, two fingers still pumping in and out of your heat so fast and hard you can hear the sounds of your wetness. “Taste so fucking good.”

His voice is muffled against your pussy and you lower your gaze back down to him, chest heaving as your grip tightens both on his hair and the fabric of your shirt, still hiked around your waist. Your fingernails dig into his scalp so hard that you know you’re leaving small, crescent shaped indents into the soft skin of his head but it never seems to bother him - you can hear him whine into your cunt, proving your point. 

The hand on your thigh drops and your leg falls over his shoulder - it, instead, sneaks up your stomach and into the bunched up material of your shirt, palm resting overtop of your tits through the sports bra you’re wearing, the one with cherries on it, and his hand squeezes around the mound of flesh just as his teeth graze your clit. Both sensations have you tossing your head back with a sob and Harry pulls away briefly, strands of saliva connecting him to your core, as if begging him to return to where he’d been working at.

You love seeing him like this - nearly unhinged in his quest to get you off, eyes lust blown and pupils so wide they’ve overtaken all the green in his orbs. Harry is so desperate to make you feel good and you can see it in his eyes, as he presses a kiss to the top of your mound before returning his tongue to your clit.

Your pussy is clenching relentlessly around his fingers, hips bucking up into him at a staccato rhythm - you’re going to cum, you’re right there, and he knows it. Harry’s tongue swirls around your clit again and again as his fingers curl into you, hitting the perfect spot inside of you over and over until all of your muscles tense, your eyes roll back, and -

“Fuck, yes,” Harry moans, pulling his head back to watch you come undone beneath him, body spasming with the force of your orgasm. His fingers still slowly thrust in and out of you, forcing your orgasm onwards until you’re reaching down, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from your cunt. “Doin’ so good f’me, yeah.”

You can hardly breathe once you’re finally coming down, gasping for air as Harry rests his cheek to your inner thigh, fingertips dancing up and down your hips. Your clit is throbbing with the intensity of it all and your body feels weak, like you couldn’t move even if you tried, and Harry’s face looks just as self satisfied as you’d expected.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, loosening your grip on Harry’s hair, smoothing your fingers over the skin you’d been assaulting. “Jesus, fuck, you’re good at that.”

Harry chuckles, then, pressing one wet, open mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before rising up from his spot, kneeling on the ground, to sit back on the sofa. He grabs the material of your shirt, tugging it back down to cover your body. “Did I make it up to you?” And, when your brows furrow ever so slightly in confusion, he says, “‘Cause I beat you in Phase 10.”

You grin, reaching out for Harry’s hand so you can push yourself to sit up, leaning against the arm of the sofa. His thumb smooths over the back of your palm, watching you with a look of pure adoration in his eyes, and you’re sure yours look much the same. “I guess so,” you shrug, working on the act of faux nonchalance, even if you know he doesn’t believe it. 

“Well, that’s good,” he proclaims, leaning forward to rest his body between your legs, pressing a kiss to your lips softly. “Hope I get t’fuck you now. Can hardly wait - was gonna cum in m’pants, watching you get off.”

His words make your stomach flip and your clit pulse, and you want nothing more than to pull him down to you, let him fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow. But you cross your arms over your chest, staring into his overly confident eyes as you decide, “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you confirm, relishing in the way Harry’s shoulders droop, how his eyebrows crease in confusion. You shift away from him, swinging your legs over the edge of the sofa so you can focus back on the Phase 10 cards, still set up on the coffee table. “If you win your next phase, I’ll let you fuck me, to make up for you being rude again.”

There’s silence between you two as Harry stares at you, mouth parted in shock, looking positively bewildered until he asks, “Are you serious?”

You nod.

“What happens if you win?”

You both know you won’t win - you’ve been on the same phase while Harry has gone through four - but you pretend to think, already reaching down to the table for the stack of cards. You brush your panties off of them, letting them fall to the floor. “If I win, I’ll let you fuck me, ‘cause I lost.”

Harry nods slowly, and then says, “So I’ll fuck you either way?”

“Well, yeah,” and then you resume shuffling the deck. “But I just like making you wait.”

 —

 You have to say - you think you’re getting pretty good at grading essays.

Through your entire relationship you’ve loved to help Harry grade stuff, and it’s always been easy for you, because you’ve completed every essay and every exam and done great on all of them (with the exception of 1984, so Harry pointedly does not let you grade those.) And it’s fun, too, turning up music and sitting at the kitchen table, humming along to the tunes and occasionally asking the professor what he thinks about a certain word, or if the flow of a certain sentence sounds too wonky to ignore.

Sometimes, though - sometimes, it’s not too fun.

Harry had been putting off on grading the essays he’d assigned on The Fountainhead, which is, if you recall, the only essay you’d written for his class that made you consider dropping out, with how nitpicky the rubric was. Every year it was a pain for Harry to grade, so you suppose it only figures that he’d put off grading them as soon as possible - which is how you ended up here. There are stacks and stacks of essays spread across the kitchen table that have to be graded before Monday, and one glance at the clock on the wall behind you shows that it’s already nearly 11:30 on Saturday night - which means you and Harry have been grading for just about four hours since your last break to eat reheated pizza from the night prior.

“Do you think it’s time to go to bed?” you question, voice soft and raspy, cutting through the comfortable silence that’s been hovering between the two of you since Harry turned off the music an hour ago, murmuring that it was giving him a headache. “It’s almost midnight, professor. And it’s not good to work yourself too hard.”

He exhales softly, flipping a page in the essay he’s working at that’s getting marked up so much with red ink that the paper hardly even looks white anymore. “Y’can go to bed if you’d like,” he tells you, which is exactly what you’d expected him to say but it still makes you sigh dramatically. “What’re you huffin’ at? I’ll do a few more, an’ come to bed in a little bit.”

You shake your head, placing the essay you’d just graded on top of the finished pile and reaching for a fresh one. You click your pen a few times, squinting at the name printed on top just to check if you recognize it (which you don’t) before getting to work grading it. “One more, alright? And then bed, ‘cause otherwise you’re just gonna be cranky tomorrow.”

“M’never cranky, baby.”

“You are when you go to bed at midnight and then wake up at 7 to grade,” you murmur, uncapping your pen to scribble a comment in the margins of Daniel Garcia’s essay and ignoring the dramatic, scandalized gasp that your boyfriend lets out. “Just finish up that one, and I’ll do this, and then we’re going to bed.”

Harry’s silent for a second and you know that you’ve won - you won’t stop until you do, anyway, so it’s best that he gives in now. “When did you start wearing the pants in the relationship, m’dear?” he questions, giving you a cheeky smile, and you roll your eyes.

“Since you put a baby in me,” you reply, drawing a line through an unnecessary sentence in Daniel’s paper, and then you pat your stomach as if to remind him. “But long before that too, I think.”

“In the bedroom, though -”

“Don’t give yourself a boner, Har, it’s almost midnight.”

He laughs at that, bending back over the essay he’s grading with a grin still present on his lips. You watch as he returns to writing a note on the paper and you look back down at Daniel’s, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth to conceal your smile as your eyes scan over the last paragraph of the first page before flipping it to the next one. 

The next five minutes passes in the same vein, Harry occasionally asking for your input on the essay he’s working on, and you do the same. The end of your pen drags along the paper, tracing the Times New Roman font that’s beginning to look entirely too small now that your eyelids are beginning to droop with sleepiness overtaking your bones - the sleepiness that’s only heightened when Harry finally tosses his overly marked essay into the finished pile and leans back in his chair with an almost mocking grin when you meet his eyes.

“M’not sure I’ve ever graded such a horrible essay in my life,” he announces to you, pushing his chair back to stand up, arms stretched over his head. “Got a bloody 26.”

Your eyes glaze over the essay sitting on top of the finished pile, taking in the cover page that’s doused in Harry’s small, scrawled handwriting. Then you glance back down at Daniel’s essay, hardly marked up at all, and shrug. “He’s doing alright. Only taken off 5 points for some grammar issues.”

Harry leans over the table to peek at what you’re doing, and you lean back so he can scan the words on the page. “Might have the highest grade in the class, then.”

“Higher than mine?”

“‘Course not,” and he scoffs, as if the suggestion that any student’s essay could be better than yours was absolutely preposterous. “D’you want me to stay in here with you?’

You furrow your eyebrows as you look up at him, and then you shake your head. “Go to bed, professor. I’ll be done in a few minutes - almost on the last page, see?” And you spread the pages apart to prove it to him.

He nods, and then leans down to press a quiet kiss to your nose before padding down the hall to the bedroom - gives you a departing whisper yell to scream if y’need him - well, maybe don’t, ‘cause we do have neighbors, and then you’re left alone, hunched over Daniel Garcia’s essay. There’s not much work to be done as you read the last paragraph on the second-to-last page - you merely write out a suggestion in the margins before setting your pen down beside you and flipping to the next page.

You take a moment to yawn, stretching your arms high above your head as you squeeze your eyes shut. God, you are tired. From down the hall you can hear the sink turn on and you smile, briefly, thinking of Harry brushing his teeth with the pink princess toothbrush you’d bought him as a joke, and now he refuses to use any other one. Always makes you laugh when you see him using it, ignoring the other clean, adult ones right in the holder beside the sink.

Sooner you finish Daniel’s essay, the sooner you can catch him using it.

It’s motivation enough, and you open your eyes to begin on the last page of the paper you’d been working on for the last ten minutes. Immediately you notice, right in the middle of the final page, is a neon pink sticky note that you hadn’t noticed previously - you peel it off the paper and bring it up to your eyes, squinting to read the words written in dark black pen, a contrast against the bright color.

Mr. Styles -

Thank you for reviewing my essay! I made some of the changes you suggested, so I hope it’s better than it was before.

I hope you’re having a good semester, and congratulations on the pregnancy! 

- Daniel

You smile as you read it - whatever critiques Harry had suggested had clearly worked out, as Daniel’s essay was easily the best you’d graded all day. It’s only when you reach the last few words that you bring it closer to your face, making sure you’re reading it correctly - congratulations on the pregnancy?

“Har?” you call, voice soft but still loud enough to reach him across your apartment. You can hear shuffling in the bathroom and then footsteps on the hardwood, growing in volume until Harry’s standing in the doorway of the hall, princess toothbrush in his mouth and his eyes wide with concern. You give him a smile, to assure him you’re fine, and you can hear his soft sigh in relief. “Daniel left you a note.”

You hold it up for him to inspect, and he closes the distance between you two to bend down, eyes narrowing as he reads Daniel’s loopy writing. “Aw - s’sweet,” he says, voice strained with the toothpaste in (and dripping out of) his mouth, and you can sense he’s confused as to why you called him to read it.

“I didn’t know you told your students about the baby,” you say, mainly to his back as he darts down the hall to the bathroom, and you can hear him spitting into the sink before he walks back. 

“Yeah - I did.” Harry’s eyebrows crease in confusion as he leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and mouth free of all toothpaste and brush. “Was I not s’posed to?”

No - that’s not what you’d meant at all. Truth be told, it made your heart absolutely swell to imagine Harry telling his students about you and the baby, and you’re getting quite embarrassed with how easily you’re crying lately but you can feel tears in the back of your eyes already. You swallow, pushing yourself up from your chair to pad closer to him, and his hands fall to the sides of your protruding tummy once you’re close enough. “No - I’m not mad. The opposite, really - what did you tell them?”

You know, now, that he can sense exactly how you’re feeling about it. His hands smooth over your tummy through your sleepshirt, and you lean in to rest your head to his shoulder. “Just told ‘em that my girlfriend’s havin’ my baby, and that I’m very happy about it. Might’ve told ‘em that a few times, though.”

“How many times do you consider to be a few?” you question, bringing your head back up to look at him, and the sheepish look on his face tells you exactly what you’d expected. “Do you talk your class’s ear off every day about it?”

“Not every day,” he insists, leaning his head back against the doorway, and you raise your eyebrows at him. “Not every day! Really. But m’students ask about it, and y’know I can’t help myself, sometimes.”

You do know exactly what he’s talking about, and your cheeks are beginning to hurt with how hard you’re smiling. His hands slide up your chest and neck until he reaches your cheeks, pulling your face up so you’re staring at him, cheeks squished together. There’s still a smudge of toothpaste in the corner of his mouth and you bring your thumb up to wipe at it before mumbling, voice slightly incomprehensible due to his hands on your face, “That - that makes me really happy, Harry.”

His eyes soften and you’re expecting him to drop his hands back down to your side, but he merely pushes your cheeks further in and leans down to land a kiss to your lips. “Why wouldn’t I talk abou’ you? Most important thing in my life, you are.”

You bring your hand up to swat at his wrists so your face goes back to its normal shape, and he reluctantly complies. “It’s just sweet. And I’m really tired right now, so I might cry if I think about it for too long, but -”

Harry tosses his head back with a laugh at that, and you watch him with unsaid tears shining in your eyes. Sometimes, you’re not quite sure how or why you got so lucky - but as he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers to pull you down the hall towards your bedroom, you decide you’ll never stop appreciating it for the rest of your life.

 —

 You’d known from the very beginning of the night that Harry wasn’t fit to go out, and you know you’ll hold that over his head later. A little I told you so to make up for the way your knees are aching, pressed to the cold black tile, and you know he’ll roll his eyes, maybe snip back that you weren’t complaining with m’dick down your throat, baby. But, for now, you merely look up at him with a smug glint in your eyes, and, in response, his grip on your hair tightens.

The second you’d stepped out of your bedroom at the apartment, adding another smooth layer of rouge to your bottom lip, you’d known, just from the look he gave you, sitting on the couch. Tonight was going to be that sort of night, where Harry walked with his hand shoved in his pocket to try and make his half hard boner less obvious through the entirety of dinner, assuring you over and over that he was fine to go out. You’d almost believed him until he’d parked the car in a parking garage right outside of the restaurant and begged you for just a quickie in the backseat before you went in - but you’d refused.

You’d waited for date night for - well, two weeks, but it felt entirely too long. And you hadn’t spent so long getting ready, trying on all of your dresses before finally finding one that made your 30 week belly look flattering, to have him ruin it in the backseat.

You could be quite strong willed when you wanted to, and most times you didn’t. It always shocked Harry, the moments you decided to use it. 

“Can I try that, Har?” Your voice is saccharine sweet as you look up at your boyfriend with a smile, taking note of the way his jaw is set as he pokes at his gnocchi. His eyes are stone cold and if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you would guess that he’s angry - but the way his ankle is locked with yours beneath the table, heel brushing against his ankle, assures you that he’s not. “Looks delicious.”

You’re already reaching over with your fork to Harry’s plate before he can respond, taking a piece of the thick pasta and bringing it back over to your plate. You take your time chewing it, admiring your boyfriend’s features, illuminated in the candlelight - he’s always gorgeous, like a statue carved from stone, but especially so when you know he’s so turned on he can hardly function.

And you suppose you’re to blame for that. It isn’t as though you haven’t been torturing him the entire dinner, lifting your foot up to drag up his calf, pulling his dress pants up, even going so far as to brush it against his thigh, though you’ll blame it on the thick white tablecloth able to disguise every action. Every single reaction he gave you felt like adding gasoline to a fire, and you were loving it.

“That’s really good,” you tell him, resting your fork on your plate and grabbing your slice of margherita pizza. “The sauce is good, too. Thick and creamy - you know.”

Harry shifts in his seat, and you tighten your hold around his ankle, sliding forward in your seat just a tad. He doesn’t respond for a moment, and then he leans over across the table, loose fabric of his pink button up falling dangerously close to his pasta, and says, “You’re being mean.”

You can’t help the cocky grin that tugs at your lips as you lean back in your seat, increasing the distance between you once more. “How am I being mean? Just trying to enjoy dinner with you - once the baby gets here, who knows how many more we’ll have for a while.”

It’s getting more difficult by the minute to disguise your own arousal, but you try to, anyway. It isn’t nearly as fun to tease Harry when he knows you’re just as turned on as he is, so you’ll hide it for as long as you can.

“S’difficult to appreciate our last date night when I’m so fuckin’ turned on - I can’t even eat my gnocchi.” He pouts, as if it’s an absolute disgrace that he can’t enjoy his pasta, and you roll your eyes.  It’s rare you get to see Harry so desperate like this, so needy it’s all he can think about. But he’s reaching over the table to clasp his hand overtop of yours where you’re clutching your fork, bringing the back of your palm up to his mouth to press a kiss to your skin, and you smile down at your pizza. It’s sweet, even if you know he’s only doing it so you’ll agree to leave dinner early to go home, or perhaps run out to the car for a quickie.

“Never said last,” you tell him, pressing your free hand to the front of your stomach. “It better not be the last, professor.”

“Not the last,” Harry agrees, lips still firmly planted to your hand so every word is mouthed to your skin. You watch him with arched eyebrows, trying to anticipate his next move, when he leans over further and says, voice soft and nearly pleading, “Are y’sure you don’t want a quickie? ‘Cause I can read you like a book, honey, an’ I can fuckin’ feel you clenching your thighs, y’know. Can practically smell how wet you are. M’not dumb.”

Fuck.

You exhale a soft shaky breath, and you know he’s got you right where he wants you, if the satisfied smirk on his face tells you anything. He drops your hand and you dig your fingers into the tablecloth, watching as he leans back in the booth.

It’s your move and you’re not sure how to play it, taking the brief moment to run through all of your options. You could go home, spend the rest of the night in the apartment, but you don’t reckon Harry would be able to wait so long. And you’re not too sure your back would appreciate getting fucked in the backseat, so the only other option is -

“Alright,” you murmur, and then your ankle unhooks from around his ankle so you can slide out of the booth. When you’re standing you rest your hand on the underside of your stomach, reaching out a hand for Harry to grab as you tug him from the booth. Immediately his arm wraps around your waist and you lift your head up to reach his ear, voice hardly rising above a whisper, “The bathroom, Har.”

His eyes flutter shut at your words, breathing out a slow groan, and you give him just a second to relish in the subtext of it - the second passes, though, and you nudge him once more. He tightens his arm around you and leads you from the booth, dragging you through the restaurant to a sleek, black staircase, a sign on the wall beside it declaring that the restroom is downstairs. When you’re out of sight from most customers and workers in the dining room, the two of you practically run down the stairs, Harry grabbing your hand to make sure you don’t trip, and you’re nearly breathless when you finally locate the bathroom.

Not a second after Harry pulls you inside, slamming and locking the door shut behind you, your lips are on his. Hands roam up and down your back through your dress and your fingernails dig into his neck, and for a moment, that’s enough - just feeling his touch after feeling deprived, even if you’d been trying to pretend you didn’t need him. But, God, he’s looked so good the entire night, donning a loose pink dress shirt, the first two buttons undone, and black dress pants - it’s not unlike what he would wear to class and maybe that’s why you love it so much.

The moment passes, though, because you know this needs to be fast and merely making out against the cool door won’t do either of you too much good. Harry’s fingers hook in the hem of your dress, beginning to pull the fabric up over your ass but you stop him, fingers wrapping around his wrist and meeting his look of confusion with one of pure seduction.

You slowly adjust your dress again, tugging it back down to the mid-thigh point where it belongs, and Harry watches you - his chest is heaving and his palms are pressed to the door, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this. So far gone already and you’ve barely touched him - it’s a gorgeous contrast from how it usually is, where you’re the one so needy and desperate for him.

The moan that cracks through the air when you drop to your knees in front of him sends a rush of arousal straight to your core. You’d love to have him pound into you right here, against the black tiled walls of the restroom, but when he’s like this? You need him in your mouth - God, you’re fucking aching for it. And waiting will merely make the inevitable pleasure so much better, later.

As if on instinct, Harry’s hand presses to the back of your head, fingertips gently smoothing your scalp as if to comfort you. “Sure y’don’t want me to fuck you? Know you wan’ it - feel bad makin’ you wait.”

You shake your head, leaning in to gently nuzzle at the bulge, so prominent in his pants. Harry’s hips jerk forward at the slight sensation and you give him a soft glare as he murmurs quiet apologies into the suddenly warm bathroom air. “No,” you tell him, voice hot against his dick even through his trousers. “Need you in my throat, professor.” And the resulting moan spurs you onwards, reaching for the zipper blocking you from what you need.

He’s rambling as you tug the zipper of his pants down, fumbling with the button so you can pull his boxers down over his member. You wait a moment before making any type of contact with his length, glancing up to meet his lust blown eyes with a small smirk gracing your lips. Harry’s digits tangle in your hair as you lean in, ghosting a soft kiss to the base of his cock before wrapping your fist around him. “God - gonna suck me off, hmm? Look so good on your knees, y’know that? Fuck, please don’t tease me -”

Your hand pumps up and down his length, hot and heavy in your palm, the head red and angry and already leaking precum. It’s a show of how deprived your boyfriend is as he hisses near violently when you press an open mouthed kiss to the dripping tip of his cock, hand still jerking up and down the base of him. 

As much as Harry had begged you not to, you’re tempted to tease him - kitten licks to his dick until he’s begging harder than he already is - but you have to remind yourself that you’re not in your apartment, and you don’t have enough time to be going as slowly as you are. So you stick your tongue out, use your hand on his base to guide him so it’s sitting, heavy on your tongue. His breathing has all but stopped, watching with his mouth dropped open as you take him into your mouth, closing your lips around his cock when it’s nearly halfway down your throat.

The feeling of your lips shutting around his member has a wet grunt escaping his throat, and his fingers tighten in your hair to the point where you reckon you can feel strands disconnecting from your scalp - but you find you don’t truly care. It goes straight to your clit, every one of Harry’s reactions, from the way his fingernails dig indents into your head and his head falls back against the bathroom door with a dull thump that reverberates through you. Normally you wouldn’t hesitate to try and alleviate the pressure growing in your clit - maybe pull your dress up and get yourself off - but the thought of how good it’ll feel if you wait keeps your hands from wandering. 

“Oh my god -” you look up at Harry where he’s got his fist, half buried in his mouth, muffling every noise he lets out. His face is coated with a thin sheet of sweat, eyes squeezed shut, looking as though you’d been sucking him off for hours instead of five minutes. “Please, baby - God, feels so good.”

You’ve been giving him blowjobs for over two years and yet, every single time, you need time to adjust to his size - it never fails to make him smirk but he’s too far gone to focus on it now, as you slide his cock down your throat, taking as much of him as you can without gagging. Harry’s fingers in your hair tangle, holding your head to his length though you had no intention of letting up any time soon, anyway - and you’re not sure he’d intended to push you further down on him, nose brushing to his pubic bone, but the way you gag around him has him crying out, entirely too loud even around his fist. 

“Sorry, m’sorry - jus’ couldn’t help it -” he’s murmuring, voice strained as he pulls you off of him, letting you bring your wrist up to wipe at the strands of saliva still connecting his cock to your lips. You take just a second to catch your breath before leaning back in, flattening your tongue to lick a thick stripe up the bottom up his member, swirling around his tip once you’ve reached it. “M’really close - gonna cum so fuckin’ hard -”

You’d known from the telltale twitch of his cock when you wrap your lips around him that he’s close, and, as much as you love sucking his dick, your knees are aching and you’d do anything to run home and continue this romp in the sheets. So you continue pumping him, sloppy jerks of the wrist that have moans tumbling off his lips like a mantra, and then you release your lips from around him with a soft pop and stick your tongue out again, resting his head neatly in the center.

Whatever qualms Harry had been holding on to about keeping silent are almost immediately forgotten as his cock thrusts forward onto your tongue, your hand still thrusting the part of him that isn’t resting in your mouth. His head drops forward with a low, throaty moan and you barely get a moment to prepare before he’s cumming, ribbons of milky cum pooling in the valley of your tongue. You can’t help yourself from whimpering at the sensation that you’ve grown to love so much - it helps that his cum doesn’t taste terrible, though you suppose you don’t have much to compare it to.

Your scalp burns when Harry releases your hair, pressing his entire palm to the back of your head and keeping his cock firm in the center of your tongue, though you wouldn’t dream of pulling away until you’ve milked every last drop. He’s panting, chest heaving with desperate gasps of air, and you can’t tear your gaze from him even if he won’t meet it.

It’s Harry who finally pulls away first, shifting his hips backward until his length slides off of your tongue, eyes drifting shut. You reach for his thigh, pinching the soft skin through his trousers until he hisses, glancing down at you like you’d wanted, and you take the brief connection of eye contact to close your mouth, making a show of swallowing the cum you’d collected at the base of your tongue. 

“God,” he breathes throatily, hand on your head smoothing down until he’s cupping your cheek, and he smiles when you show him your tongue again to prove that you’d swallowed everything. “Gonna fuckin’ wreck you when I get home.”

You take Harry’s hand when he offers it, intertwining your fingers so he can pull you up. Your knees burn and your back is beginning to ache, and you need him so bad that just his words have you feeling like you could cum in your panties. “Is that a promise?”

There’s that cocky grin you’d expected, spreading slowly across his face as he lands an open mouthed kiss to your lips - a show of love, considering his cock was in your mouth mere seconds ago. It’s a promise that whatever bits of dominance you’d had over him while you were on your knees has dissipated, and you’re more than happy to let him take over. “S’most certainly a promise,” Harry assures you, thumb coming up to wipe at your lip where your lipstick has surely smudged, as you reach down to tuck him back into his pants. “Now, let’s hope there’s not a line, right, baby? Wouldn’t want everyone to know what a dirty girl you were, sucking m’cock like that, now would we?”

And it’s all you can do to shake your head, watching as he feels for the doorknob and undoes the lock.

 —

 At the time, buying a book of nearly 10,000 baby names had seemed like the perfect idea. You and Harry had hardly talked about what you were to name your daughter, besides that her last name would, naturally, be Styles, and as you approached 34 weeks pregnant, you suspected it was about time to start considering it. Sure, she wasn’t due for weeks, but, realistically, couldn’t she pop out at any moment? You should at least be prepared. And, in the back of your mind, you’d expected to open the book and immediately find a perfect name you both agreed on, because it had seemed like your tastes aligned fairly well in just about every other aspect of life.

Now, though - you can understand why it may not be too great of an idea. If you hadn’t obsessed over her name before, now you were - there were hundreds of names you liked, and almost every single one Harry shot down. The ones that he liked you despised, and the ones you agreed one simply weren’t perfect.

It was all you thought about. The origin of the name had to be perfect, the spelling, it couldn’t clash with her (admittedly unusual) last name and you both had to agree on it.

“Do you like Madison?”

You can see Harry scrunch his nose from where he’s sitting, cross legged on the floor, glaring at the instructions for the crib you’d gotten the week prior. It’s the last part of the nursery to come together, and, admittedly, the most important - though Harry teased, I think the baby is the most important part, actually, and that is exactly why he’s on crib duty. You, meanwhile, sit in the rocking chair your parents had given you, humming to the music blaring from his phone and squinting angrily down at stupid book. Marie sits, curled on your lap, and you absentmindedly stroke your fingers through her fur as you read.

“Y’asked me about Madison last week,” Harry tells you, resting the manual on the plush, cream rug beneath him to examine the pile of disassembled crib lying in front of him. “I didn’t like it then, an’ I don’t like it now.”

You raise your eyebrows, exhaling softly as you flip through the pages of your book, already well worn from how often you’d been searching through it. “Alright, cranky. Sheesh.”

He chuckles at that, running a hand through his locks that fall around his face. You break your gaze from watching him and turn back to your look, scanning your finger down the list of ‘O’ names. Finding one that you like and that you haven’t already asked Harry about is a task easier said than done, and you can feel yourself getting more and more frustrated by the minute with every name you read.

“Ophelia?” you question, trying the name out on your tongue against the background of This Is The Kinks, currently playing The Contenders loud enough that you can barely hear your own voice - but you hear it enough to know you don’t like the name.

“I like that,” Harry says, picking up a piece of crib off the ground and glancing back at the instructions before resting it back on the floor just as quickly.

“I don’t,” you tell him, grinning at his responding snort. “Olivia?”

“Already asked me about tha’ one - s’a no.”

“Oakley?”

“Absolutely not.”

You sit further up, grabbing a section of the book’s pages and pointedly squeezing your eyes shut - Marie stares at you as though annoyed with your movement. “I’m going to flip to a random page,” you announce, voice rising in volume to be heard above The Kinks, “and we’ll pick a name off of whatever page it is.”

You can’t see him but you know he’s rolling his eyes before saying, “That’s a horrible way t’name our child -” but you’re already flipping through the book at random, ignoring whatever he’s calling above the music.

When you decide that you’ve flipped enough, you rest the book on the ottoman in front of the rocking chair and open your eyes, staring down at the page you’ve turned to. Sarah, Sadie, Sabrina - “We’re in the S section.”

“We can’t have our baby’s name be an alliteration.”

“Fine,” you huff, squeezing your eyes shut again, “I’ll flip again -”

“Baby,” Harry calls, and when you don’t react he repeats the pet name until you open your eyes, staring expectantly down at where he’s sitting on the rug. He lets the directions flutter down to the floor before pushing himself to stand, padding across the room until he can grab the baby name book, replacing its spot on the ottoman just in front of you. “We don’t have t’pick a name right now.”

You cross your arms over your chest, hardly able to resist your smile as Harry lifts the book up, flipping past the S section until he’s gazing down at a list of T names and their origins. “Aren’t you supposed to be putting together a crib, professor?”

He merely rolls his eyes, jabbing his finger in the middle of the page. “What about Tiffany?”

The Contenders transitions into All Day And All Of The Night and you bob your head to the change in music, gently kicking Harry’s ankles to try and distract yourself from the stress that’s slowly rising in your chest. “I hate it - and, besides, she might grow up with a complex if she’s named after one of the greatest movies of all time.”

Harry exhales with a small chuckle, finger sliding down the page until it stops again. “Thalia?”

That one makes you pause - it is pretty, and combining it with his last name doesn’t roll off the tongue too terribly. But it isn’t perfect, and you can’t possibly give your baby a name that isn’t perfect. So you shake your head, craning your neck so you can glance at the page with him, dragging your fingers down Marie’s soft back. “Tessa could be pretty, right?”

But he shakes his head, turning a few pages back until you’re staring into the R section. You rest a hand on top of your stomach, as if to ask your daughter what, exactly, her name is, and Harry presses his palm overtop of yours, lacing your fingers together absentmindedly. “I like Riley,” he murmurs, fingernail tapping against the small print of the name and question.

“It’s too similar to Styles,” you disagree, and when he gives you a doubtful look you continue, “The beginnings sound the same - Ri and Sty. Just sounds sort of weird.”

You’re in the middle of reading about the origin for the name Ryan when Harry slowly presses the book shut, and you hardly have time to give him an annoyed glance before he’s telling you, “We’ll look at this tomorrow, alright? We don’t have to find one right now - s’fine.”

“I feel like we’re running out of time,” you confess as he stands up from the ottoman, resting your dumb baby name book on top of the dresser and returning back to the middle of the floor. Marie, meanwhile, hops off your lap, bounding out of the room with her tail high in the air. “I feel like she’s gonna come and we’re not gonna have any sort of name picked out - and we won’t have a crib, by the looks of how this is going.”

“Watch your mouth, lazy butt.” But he can’t help the grin from appearing on his face as he flips through the pages of the small instructional pamphlet with the same degree of dedication you’d put into searching for your daughter’s name. “And y’know she won’t hate us ‘cause we didn’t pick out her name a month and a half before she came.”

You push yourself off of the chair, sending it rocking back and forth with just enough force that it gently hit the walls of the corner it was boxed into, and you maneuver your way through the mess of parts scattered on the floor until you can find a clean spot to sit down in, just beside Harry. He gives you a smile once you’re beside him and leans down to press a kiss to your temple, and you lean backward, resting your weight on one arm and pressing your other hand to the front of your stomach. “She could come next week, you know. Or tomorrow.”

“She won’t,” Harry says, voice sharper than what (you assume) he’d anticipated it to be, because it softens near immediately as he continues, “She won’t, but if she does, we don’t have t’have a name picked out jus’ yet. We’ll find the perfect one, and it’ll fit her, and it’ll be fine.”

His confidence is (unsurprisingly) not at all reassuring to you but you tuck your head against his shoulder anyway, feeling his lips land on your forehead. Your mind is whirring and you can still feel the beginnings of anxiety running its course through your veins, and you know it’ll only get worse until you find the perfect name for your girl - but you feel like you’ve looked at every single one and not a single one is right. Perhaps your superfluous worry about being a terrible mother was the source for it but you don’t want to bring it up to Harry. Not right now. Though he has to be feeling some of the same fear you are, it’s practically a no-brainer that he’ll be the perfect father.

You wish you had the same confidence in yourself, but you’ll work on it later.

“I just want to find the perfect name,” you mumble, muffled against his shoulder and entirely too soft to be heard over the guitar, strumming during the opening of Lola. 

“We will,” he promises, and then holds up his pinky for you to hook yours into. A promise in its simplest form, and it makes you smile. “Maybe it won’t be in the book, though - feel like you’ve read every single name.”

You opt not to respond, mouthing the words to Lola as you pick up the directions, eyes scanning over the words without taking any of them in. As expected, you don’t quite understand what any of the guidelines mean - instead, you turn to the pictures, and when Harry pushes himself up, grabbing a small baggie of screws to get to work, you hand them back to him willingly. It was your meek attempt to help, but - well, as Harry had said, you were bringing the most important part of the nursery to the room, so you were fine to sit back and let him do the crib.

It’s only a second, though, of singing along softly to the song while you watch him begin to assemble the crib before it hits you - in plain sight (or plain sound, you suppose) is the name. You’d spent so long buried inside your dumb baby name book that you’d skipped over this because it’s perfect, rolls off your tongue so beautifully when you mouth it, soft enough that your boyfriend can’t hear it over the blaring of the song you’d taken it from.

“Harry,” you call, growing louder in excitement with every syllable. You wait until his eyes are on you, because you want to see his reaction when he hears it - it’s all you can do to pray it’s a positive one, because you know this is it. “What about Lola?”

He pauses, in the midst of inserting a screw into the small hole it’s destined for, and you can see his mind whirring - testing out the name experimentally, the same way you had. And then he says it, loud enough that you can hear, and it sounds as spectacular coming from him as it had from you.

“I love it,” Harry tells you, though you’d already known just from the gleam in his eyes. The excitement that burns through you is nearly fucking overwhelming as you push yourself up (slower than you’d wanted, but your stomach does tend to do that nowadays) and step over the pile of crib parts carefully. His arm hooks around your waist as soon as you’re close enough and you stumble into his arms, winding your arms around his neck to press yourself as close as you can to him - and feeling his face in your hair, repeating the same three words over and over, is feeling strangely akin to paradise.

 —

 It’s so early in the morning that your bedroom is drowned in thick darkness, like a sheet wrapped around you. Can hardly even be considered morning, you think - as you reach over to tap the screen of your phone, squinting at the way it lights up obnoxiously, you discover that it’s 12:58 AM. 

You’re half - no, completely - tempted to curl back into the comfort of Harry’s arms wrapped around you. One is thrown over your torso, palm pressed to the front of your stomach, and the other is pressed between your side and the mattress, hand curved possessively over your boob. He’s a cuddler and you know this, but you tend to move so much during the night with weak attempts to find a position that doesn’t destroy your back that it’s rare to wake up enveloped in him. But now that you’re awake you can feel Lola, pressing on your bladder to the point where falling back asleep would surely just result in an accident later in the night - so, reluctantly, your fingers curl around Harry’s wrist to lug his arm off of your waist.

He groans in his sleep, rolling onto his back, and you push yourself to sit up so you can spend just a second gazing down at him. It’s dark in the room, still illuminated only by your phone screen, but you can see him just enough. He’s a vision when he’s sleeping - mouth parted slightly, hair damp and spread over the pillow you’d been sharing. Hazy eyes take in every bit of his face that you can, blinking away the sleep that threatens to take you back over.

One hand goes to Harry’s cheek, stroking the soft skin and slight stubble dusting his jaw. You swear you can feel him lean into your touch - but then your phone screen finally dims, flooding the room with darkness again, and you sigh before swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, pushing yourself up.

You rest your hand on the bottom of your stomach, waddling across the room to the cracked door of your bathroom. You make sure to leave it cracked, just a tad - Harry’s a light sleeper, and you can’t be positive that the soft click of the door shutting won’t wake him up. He’s been working himself again, preparing for exams that are already beginning to roll around, and you want him to get as much rest as he can get.

You bring your first up to rub at your eyes before flicking on the light switch, chasing out the darkness from the small bathroom. Eyes still blurred with sleep can’t quite take in your reflection, but you try anyway - your hair is knotted and the heels of your hand is still pressed into your eyes, and the oversized tank top you’d been donning to bed for months stretches taut against your boobs and stomach. It’s weird - and slightly scary - to imagine that, entirely too soon and yet not, your daughter will be here. Not sitting in your stomach, protruding it outwards, but lying in your arms. And you and Harry will be parents, finally, after nearly 10 months of waiting.

It’s too much to think about at barely 1 in the morning - so you tear your gaze from your reflection, head past the mirror to the toilet. You’ll ponder how strange it is to imagine your baby finally arriving later, but not now. Not when you’re forced to clench your thighs together to stop yourself from peeing, so -

Later.

When you’ve finished you wash your hands, making sure the tap doesn’t run too loud, but you swear you can hear a soft groan come from your connecting bedroom. You shut the light off once your hands are dried and push the door open softly, trying to ignore the inevitable creaking noise that will reverberate throughout your bedroom. It’s soft but still present, and you cringe slightly before padding back across the hardwood and rug until you reach your bed. You slowly sit down on the mattress before swinging your legs over and settling back beneath the covers, where Harry hadn’t moved too much since you’d left him earlier.

His breathing isn’t as steady as it had been, though - softly, barely above a breath, you murmur, “Harry?”

There’s a beat where he doesn’t respond, and then he grunts softly in lieu of a response.

So he is awake. You tug the duvet further up your body, shifting so you’re on your side and facing him. The room is still dark and you can’t see him open his eyes, but you can feel his hand move up until it’s wrapped around your torso. “Did I wake you up?” you question quietly, feeling his fingers already pressing soft circles into your hip. “Sorry.”

“No,” Harry tells you, voice raspy and dripping with desire to be asleep. It’s how his morning voice is but you’re not quite sure you can even classify this hour as morning. “Was awake - ‘cause I felt you move m’arm.” You nod, even if he can’t see it, and then he asks, “Wha’ time is it?”

“1.” You shift closer to him, as close as you can with your stomach acting as a barrier between you two, nuzzling your head into the pillow. “Had to pee.”

He hums softly, tilting his head so he can press a kiss to your nose. “I think tha’ means you’re 38 weeks, today. An’ that means 2 weeks until baby is here.”

Huh. You hadn’t known that, but Harry had been better at keeping track of that stuff than you were. “Assuming she arrives on time,” you remind him, eyes drooping shut. “Could come tomorrow.”

“She better not,” he mumbles. “M’not prepared to be a dad so soon.”

“You’ll be great no matter when she comes,” and you mean it. God, he’s been such a great dad so far, and you don’t even have a physical daughter yet. He knows your symptoms practically before you do, has read all of your baby books time and time again and he’s been so good working on the nursery - you can’t even imagine him being worried about her coming. “She’s gonna be a lucky girl, having such a great dad.”

There’s silence and for a second you think he might have fallen asleep - but after a moment he murmurs, “You’ll be the best mum, too - an’ the hottest one.”

You can hardly find the energy to roll your eyes at that but you do anyway, smiling as you hear his low chuckle. Harry’s hold around your waist tightens, tugging you just a bit closer and shifting his body so he can curve around you. You lean forward, puckering your lips softly and feeling him land a soft peck against them. Neither of you bothers to move your heads when you pull apart, merely resting them an inch apart from each other so you can feel his breath, hot on your face, as it begins to steady out again.

He’s an easy sleeper - it’s always been a bit more difficult for you, though. You don’t want to move again and wake him up but you can feel the beginnings of pain settling in your back and lower stomach, and your mind is whirring. 38 weeks feels awfully farther along than 37 and the real reality that you and Harry could be parents as soon as fucking tomorrow is terrifying. There’s so much you feel like you haven’t done yet, even if you know you’ve covered all of the necessary bases - she has a name, she has a crib, she has loving parents. You haven't taken any labour classes - were they necessary? Perhaps you’d made a mistake, not going to any. When the day came, would you be unprepared? Would the nurses be able to tell you’d never practiced any breathing exercises?

You haven’t even packed a hospital bag yet, and you’re not sure what’s supposed to go in it. Tomorrow, you’ll watch a YouTube video while Harry is at work, pack the bag and have it ready to go for when it happens. You’ll practice your breathing, too. Maybe even google some of the best stretches to do, to prepare for labour. It never hurts to be prepared.

“Can hear you thinking,” Harry whispers, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you sigh, eyes opening though you can’t see anything in the darkness. Should’ve known from his fingers, still rubbing circles into your skin, that he was still awake - you just hadn’t thought of it. “Go t’bed, baby.”

You nearly open your mouth to worry him with your concerns - you could tell him about the exercises and the breathing and the bag. Part of you wonders if he feels the same concern but masks it better. He’s been so steady about the entire thing from the very beginning, balancing out your nerves with logic, and you know that’s what he would do now. But it’s 1 AM, and he has to work tomorrow, even if all you’ll be doing is stress-packing a bag. Maybe tomorrow you’ll open a conversation about it, see how he’s feeling. So you hold back, exhaling softly as you bring your hand up to press against his cheek, skin soft beneath your touch. “I love you, professor.”

You can feel Harry’s face stretching into a lazy smile in your hand, and he turns his head to press a kiss to the underside of your wrist. “I love you too,” he tells you, melodic and soft. “G’night.”

“Goodnight.”

You take a second to stare at him - even if you can’t see him, knowing he’s beside you is comforting enough that you allow your eyes to shut. The pillow is soft against your head as you sink into the bed, holding the covers to your chest with the hand that isn’t pressed to his face. It isn’t as though you’d gained too much closure from your very short interaction with Harry, and your tired mind is still threatening to race into another dimension, but it’s easy enough to even out your breathing and let the sleep you’re desperately craving to finally overtake you.

It lasts for a blissful two hours - and in your dreams, you’re lying in a hospital bed with Harry by your side. And you’re staring down at your daughter, a small bundle who looks identical to your boyfriend, and then she’s sitting in front of a birthday cake, and then she’s climbing into a school bus, and then Harry’s helping her with her homework -

It’s, truthfully, a rather nice one, watching dream-Lola grow up. It’s only a strange swooping sensation in your stomach that starts you awake, eyes snapping open to stare up at the ceiling. Harry’s arm is still around you though you’ve turned so you’re resting on your back, covers pushed down so they’re resting just on top of your stomach. 

For a moment you reckon you may have actually managed to sleep through the entire night, though judging by the lack of sunlight peeking through the curtains, you haven’t. The insomnia that’s affected you through the entire pregnancy has only been getting worse and God, you’re tired of it. You don’t have a cramp, your back doesn’t hurt and you don’t have to pee.

It’s only when you shift onto your side, reaching for your phone to check what time it is, that you feel it - oh fuck. For a moment you think you’ve peed yourself but no, you just peed two hours ago. But the sheets are dripping wet beneath you, soaking through your sweatpants, and if it’s not pee, then -

“Oh, no.” It’s all you can think, sliding your hand beneath the duvet to feel the liquid that’s gathered on the sheets. Your phone screen, illuminated with a news notification, brightly informs you that it’s 3:28 in the morning, and Harry still snores beside you. “Oh no. No, no, no -”

As if he can sense that you’re seconds away from crying out his name, Harry groans softly beneath you, shifting just enough that you know he’s awake - barely, but you’re not quite all there yet, either. You lift your hand that isn’t coated in liquid to swat at his shoulder, feeling an entirely too familiar lump building in your throat as you do. “Harry - Harry, wake up, wake up -”

He finally jerks awake after the fifth hit to his shoulder, pushing himself to sit up so fast you can hear the familiar thunk of his head hitting the headboard. “What? What -”

You can hardly get the words out but you don’t need to as Harry reaches over to the nightstand, fumbling with the lamp for a minute before turning it on - light floods the room, finally. It’s not immediately obvious, staring down at the comforter beneath you, what’s wrong, and you can see the confusion clouding in his eyes before you throw the covers off of you, exposing the soaked sheets, and that’s when it hits him.

There’s still a second, like the calm before a storm, where all either of you can do is stare at each other, eyes wide and full of horror. She isn’t due for two weeks. And you knew it could happen at any minute but you hadn’t expected it to be this minute - you thought you had more time. But there’s a pile of wetness sitting beneath you, telling you that you’d fucking thought wrong, and that’s when you snap out of it.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry breathes, and then you’re both moving - you gingerly shift so your legs are over the edge of the bed and your muscles are aching, your head is spinning, and your pants are drenched. You need to change. 

But you can’t bring yourself to do anything more than sit there, paralyzed, while Harry moves around the room. He’s digging through your dresser, pulling out clothes at random - next to you lands a pair of baby pink joggers and one of his shirts for you to wear. In your head you try to recall the things you’re supposed to have at the hospital when you give birth, and maybe you should run to the nursery, where her clothes and supplies are, and try to pack a bag quickly - 

“Baby, we need to go t’the hospital.”

His voice sounds like it’s coming from far away - much farther than barely five feet away from you - and you can’t process a single thing he’s saying. You need more time. You want to go back to sleep and do this in two weeks, when she’s supposed to come, because your heart is hammering in your chest. This isn’t right - it can’t be. “Harry - she isn’t supposed to come yet.”

It’s then that you feel a dip in the bed beside you, an arm around your shoulders. Harry’s breathing is heavy and the panic oozes from every word, every breath, as he says, “I know. But - but it’s happening, baby. S’happening now, and we really need to go.”

“I’m really not ready, Harry. We - we need to pack a bag. We need a hospital bag.”

“I’ll ask your mum to bring you stuff at the hospital,” because he always manages to have a logical response even when he’s stressed. And then he’s gently gripping your chin, turning your head so you’re looking at him, vision cloudy through the tears burning the back of your eyes. “It’s gonna be alright - I promise. Jus’ let me help you change.”

Truth be told, you’re more than content to sit here and panic about the entire situation but you let common sense take over, nodding slowly as Harry helps you up. You work with him to change out of your wet sweatpants, sliding on the fresh pair that he’d gotten you, and you merely throw his shirt over your tank top - you can’t be bothered to take it off.

The two of you slowly make your way out of your room, down the hallway to the sitting room, with your arm around Harry’s shoulders and his firm at your waist. You’re not sure if you need the physical support so much as the moral support - hearing his soft, congratulatory murmurs when you merely slide on your shoes is making you feel significantly better. As Harry ducks down to tie his shoes, you lean against the wall and turn to look at your apartment. It’s quiet and clean, and Marie sits perched on top of the couch, clearly having been recently woken up by your hysterics. 

Next time you’re here, you’ll have a baby.

“Are you ready?” Harry questions, standing back up and returning his arm around your waist. You’re thankful he’s managing to keep his composure together because you most certainly can’t. You know him well enough to know just how fucking terrified he is but he’s keeping it more in check - when you’re at the hospital, settled into a bed, you’ll feel better. But for now, the mere task of walking down the hall to the elevator feels daunting.

You give your apartment one last fleeting glance before turning back to the door, hooking your arm back around your boyfriend. “I guess so,” you tell him, which is all the confirmation he needs to haul you out of the apartment.

 —

 You’re slowly brought back to consciousness, nearly 24 hours after your water first broke, by Harry’s soft voice, cooing besides you - even before you open your eyes to see him you’re smiling, and it only widens when you turn your head and glance at him.

As you’d expected, Lola is lying in his arms. Wrapped in a soft, white hospital blanket and eyes wide open, you still feel a soft urge to cry every time you look at the two of them. Harry’s rocking her so gently, her tiny fist wrapped around his pointer finger, and you reckon you could simply sit here and watch them forever - him murmuring so quietly to her that you can’t quite hear it.

And you’re not sure you’d like to. You like the thought of guessing whatever he might be whispering to your daughter when he thinks you’re not listening, but you’re more desperate to hold her again than to continue watching, so you softly clear your throat.

“Oh!” Harry exclaims softly, scooting his chair closer to the edge of your hospital bed. You reach out your arms for your baby and he maneuvers her into your arms, and immediately you lean down to press a soft kiss to her nose. “How’re you feeling, m’love?”

You smile at him, pushing yourself to sit up against your stack of pillows, and he’s quick to adjust them so it’s easier for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of Lola, and if you weren’t so tired you know the mere sight of her would send you into overjoyed tears again. You offer your finger to her, and you reckon your heart could nearly burst as her small fist wraps around the digit. “My vagina feels like it’s burning,” you confess to Harry, grin widening at his soft laugh. “But - God, she’s really beautiful, Har. Looks just like you.”

And it’s true - she has his nose, and his eyes, and the curve of his chin. You trace one of your fingers down her soft cheek, skin feeling like porcelain beneath your touch.

“She does, a bit,” he says, voice staying at its quiet, breathy level, though she’s clearly wide awake. You can sense that, though you’d just taken her from him, he’s already desperate to hold her again - it’s just the glint in his eyes as he stares at the two of you. So you move over on the bed, leaving a sliver of space large enough for him to inhabit, and he gives you a grateful smile before standing up and lying on the bed. It’s tight, and the bed certainly isn’t meant for two people, but you find that, when he wraps his arm around you and presses a soft kiss to the side of your cheek, you don’t quite mind. “I think she has your lips, though.”

Gently tracing your finger along her soft, pink lips, you think he may be right. “She’s perfect,” you repeat, leaning your head into Harry’s shoulder, and his fingers gently comb through your hair. It’s tangled and sweaty - the result of not showering for two days - and his fingers get caught on the knots a few times before resorting to wrapping his arm around your waist instead. “Can you believe we made her?”

He exhales quietly, and you can hear the disbelief present in his voice when he agrees, “Still feels like I’m dreamin’ - like m’gonna wake up, and you’ll still be pregnant.”

“I hope not,” you tell him, voice dropping even quieter as Lola slowly shuts her eyes, lips parting open just the slightest. “I really don’t want to go through that again - not for a few years, at least.”

Harry perks up, just a bit, at that, arm tightening around your waist as the other comes around to help you cradle your daughter. “Y’want to have another baby?”

“In a few years is the keyword,” you remind him. “Stay in the present.”

But no matter what you say, you can’t ignore the visible joy he’d gotten from your words - furthered only as he rests his two fingers on the bottom of your chin, tugging your face in for a soft kiss. “I love you,” he breathes against your mouth, and you can feel heat creeping up your cheeks. “And I love our daughter - s’our perfect little family.” He pauses, then, resting his forehead to yours. “And Marie.”

“And Marie,” you confirm, giggling before turning your attention back to your baby. She’s proper asleep now, breathing soft and steady, fingers loosening around yours. You rest her arm against her chest, pulling the blanket further up her body, and she nuzzles the fabric in her sleep. Your eyes are already beginning to well again, and you’re too bloody exhausted to turn on the waterworks again - so, reluctantly, you hand Lola over to Harry, and he’s more than glad to accept her back into his arms. “M’gonna try and get some rest - when is your mum coming?”

“She said 6,” he replies, attention undivided as he gazes down at the sleeping bundle in his grasp. He cradles her like she could break at any moment - gentle hands holding her head up, fingers softly tracing her blanket. “S’about two hours for you to nap, then.”

You nod, already snuggling into your bed as Harry stands, rocking Lola gently as he makes his way towards her cot. The last thing you hear before drifting off again is his voice, soft and full of love, cooing, “We love you, Lola - g’night, angel -” and you fall asleep with a soft smile on your face.

[sweetsweetkpop]

Her little Hohoho

Pairing: Boyfriend!Jungwoo x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut

WC: 3.5k

Warnings: Femdom, Toys, Anal Play, Bondage, Face Riding, Oral (Giving & Receiving), 69, Marking, Fingering, Hair Pulling, Pegging, some Corruption Kink if you blink, Dirty Talk

Prompt: #12-Wrapped in ribbons and lace for @kdiarynet Winter heart event

Notes: This is something I just decided to write and it was supposed to come out on Christmas, but ended up being posted now. Also, first time writing a femdom reader, so I hope I did good! Enjoy!

**Taglist at the bottom**

You weren’t expecting this surprise when you got home.

Happy to come back home, knowing very well that you won’t have to come in for a few days for the holidays, it was nice to step foot in the door and shrug the heavy coat off of your body.

“ Jungwoo!~ I’m back home!” You yell as he stepped out of the bathroom with a robe on, “ Did you just get out of the shower?”

He nods, “ Yeah I just came out. I felt sweaty after dancing today.” He frowned his face before he walked up to you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss, “ They let you out early today?”

“ Yup and I’m glad that they did. I wanted to hurry home so I can see you.” You smiled, kissing him once more before letting him go.

“Well, that’s good. I have an early Christmas present for you, but you would have to wait for me to finish up before you see it.” He told and it made you curious.

“Oh? Did you plan something just for me? Now I’m eager to see.” You wiggle your brows and it made him laugh, a sound that you enjoyed hearing.

“Well, wait down here until I tell you to come up okay?” Jungwoo starts heading to the stairs, handing combing through his tawny-colored hair.

“ Okay okay, I’ll listen for now. Just don’t take too long.” You promised as he smiled and rushed up the stairs to the room.

You occupied yourself by going to get comfortable, grabbing a quick snack as you scrolled on your phone. Although, you weren’t paying attention to what appeared on your social media page. You wanted to know what Jungwoo was planning for you.

You don’t remember telling him what you wanted as a present, so your mind went blank. You started to get anxious because you wanted to know what he had planned.

“ You can come upstairs now!” You heard Jungwoo yell and you tried your hardest not to seem so eager as you went up the stairs, slowly heading down the hall to your shared bedroom as you reached the door.

“ Close your eyes when you come inside.” You did as he asked, shutting your eyes before turning the handle and walking inside the room. You shut the door behind you as you walked inside, taking tiny steps until you felt your knees touch the edge of the bed. “ Okay open your eyes.”

You slowly opened them to look at the view in front of you, mouth dropping open as you took in the view.

There in the center of the bed, Jungwoo was laying there in this scarlet-colored teddie. The front having a plunging v-neckline that showed so much of his chest. You were admiring how the lingerie was made completely out of lace before your eyes noticed his wrist tied with a red ribbon to match with the piece of lingerie he chose.

“Merry Christmas~” His voice was low and a bit timid, though your mind barely registered what he said. Jungwoo’s nervous movements are what brought you out of your daze with a shake of your head.

“ What..is this?” You slowly ask as he shifts a bit, legs tucking underneath himself.

“Well, I remembered how you mentioned that you had topped before and wanted to do it to me when I’m ready and I decided that I’m willing to try that with you.” Jungwoo played with his fingers, eyes staring at the ribbon around his wrist.

You leaned onto the bed, lifting his chin so he would look up at you, “ Jungwoo baby, are you sure this is okay? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable and I’m perfectly fine with being a bottom for you.”

“I know, but I’m-” he stops speaking for a second, face feeling hot in your hand, “ I’m curious about how it would feel to…”

You felt yourself swallow as you glanced over his outfit once more, “ Then give me a safe word.”

“Huh?”

“Give me a safe word, so I know when to stop if you feel uncomfortable.” It was hard to stay calm about this.

Yes, you did say that you wanted to pound your boyfriend into the bed with a strap, but you never expected that he would give you the opportunity to make those sinful thoughts real.

But for the simple fact that he said he was curious to try it, along with that flushed face of his, you couldn’t wait to see what else he had in store for you.

“How about nectar?” He asked and it made you smile. You pulled back from him, slowly peeling off your clothes, feeling his eyes on you as you strip down to your underwear. He watched as you went over to one of your dressers.

You pull out some lube, the strap harness and after carefully looking through your toys, you pull out a good starter dildo to use on him later, if you do get that far. You looked behind to see him watching you and you gave him a warm smile. “ You think you would be okay with something like this? This is one of my smaller ones.”

Jungwoo squeezed his thighs a bit together, feeling a bit embarrassed from the hard-on that was starting to grow underneath the teddie.

You got back onto the bed, bringing the items you took out along with you before getting yourself comfortable and straddling his lap. You smile as you comb your fingers through his brown hair, before pulling them tight in his hand, a sound leaving his throat from the sudden pull. It was quickly swallowed down as you kissed him.

Jungwoo didn’t hesitate to kiss back, nipping your lips before groaning when you pulled his hair a bit harder. You pushed your tongue past his lips, muffling any other sounds that he would make, grinding your hips down as you felt his length grow underneath you.

You managed to get his bound hands above him as you made him lay down on his back. You pulled your lips off of him and made way to his neck, nipping and biting his skin as he leaned his head off to the side to let you. “ I don’t think you understand how sexy I find you Woo~ Doing all of this for me?” You teased, a hand trailing down to rub a nipple through the lace. His back arching off the bed slightly as the material rubbed against his sensitive nipple.

“ I just wanted to try this out for you.” He mumbled before letting out a gasp from a harder bite to the side of his throat.

“ Are you sure you weren't thinking about yourself?” You sat up, straddling his body and looking down at him, enjoying the blooming red marks alongside his neck and shoulder. You reached your hand back to grope at his cock, smiling when he rolled his hip upwards to your touch. “ Maybe you got all dressed because you wanted to look good for yourself. I mean, I know this isn’t my lingerie, so you went and bought this yourself.”

You continued to tease and you crawled down his body, inching further down until your head was leveled with his cock. You could feel his eyes on you as you pulled him out from underneath the teddie, subconsciously licking your lips as you watched some pre-cum leak from the tip.

“ You're already so eager for this to happen and I barely did anything to you.” You taunt, licking up the underside of his length, keeping your eyes with his. Tongue circling leisurely as he twitched.

“ Don’t tease me.” He whined, reaching down to put his fingers in your hair, but you smacked them away.

“ No, you don’t. You will listen to what I tell you to do and you will keep your hands to yourself. I’m only stopping if I hear you say the safe word. Do you understand?” You gave him a sharp look and it shouldn’t have made his cock jump. It made you smile.

“ You want me to keep talking to you like that? You seem to like when I order you around.” You playfully press a finger into his slit.

“ It’s because I don’t see you like this often.” He panted as you had grabbed the lube and warmed it up in your hand to stroke his cock. Jungwoo’s eyes were glued to your hand as you kept a nice pace going as you rubbed some more onto your free hand.

You continued your ministrations to keep him distracted, watching his face as his eyes were closed and slowly relaxing under your palm. You wanted to keep him as relaxed as possible as you moved his teddie over more to expose his tight rim. “ Relax as much as you can baby,” You tell him as your mouth covered his tip at the same time you pressed a finger inside of him.

You felt him clench around you, making you stop your actions, swallowing more of him down to help him loosen up. When you felt him relax a bit more, you managed to press the rest of your finger inside of him.

“ How are you feeling right now?” You asked after pulling your mouth off of his length. His brows a bit furrowed as he looks down at you, “ Does anything hurt?”

As much as you want this, you knew very well that you had to take your time in stretching him open and prepping him well to take the toy that you had set out for him. If he doesn’t feel comfortable with just this, then you were willing to stop it now.

“ It feels...weird, but…” Jungwoo started to speak as you looked at him with a tilt of your head.

“ But?”

“ I kind of like how it feels.” Jungwoo's eyes were cast to the side as he spoke. His eyes were quickly back on you the moment you swallow his length back down your throat as your finger started to slowly press in and out of him. When he looked back at you, your eyes were hooded and focused on preparing him well.

How could he say something like that, looking as bashful as he does when you finger him open? It just made you want to get more reactions out of him.

You focused on making Jungwoo feel good. By now, your lips were reaching closer to the base of his cock, and managed to press a second finger inside. Jungwoo’s voice kept getting louder the more you worked his insides to stretch open. His groans continued to motivate you to keep going. Your own moans vibrating through his length, fingers flexing as he wanted to touch you again, but remembering your words from earlier.

Jungwoo whined loud enough to get your attention, “ What’s the matter?”

“ I want to taste you too~” He mumbled and you decided to cut him some slack, gently pulling your fingers out of him before standing up.

“ You want to have a taste of me too?” You asked him as you tugged your panties down your legs, ignoring the small wet stain on them as you straddled your lower body over his face. You saw him lick his lips as he stared at your core. “ Make sure you eat me well Jungwoo~”

“ Now when have I ever done a bad job at that?” Jungwoo got snarky for a split second and it made you laugh.

“ Don’t get all big and bad when I have you moaning for two fingers.'' You rebuked as you lowered your body over his face. Leaning back down to put him back in your mouth, you felt Jungwoo’s tongue eagerly peeking out to taste you.

It felt like you were both competing with one another to make the other feel good and moan against each other. Jungwoo buried his face as deep as he could go, lips wrapped around your clit, giving harsh sucks to have you cry out. But you made sure it wasn’t just yourself moaning.

Your lips had reached the base of his cock by now, you scissored him open enough to the point you were able to fit three fingers inside of him and he clenched around them. You fingered him a bit faster than before as he started to lose concentration in eating you out.

Wanting to toy with him a bit longer, you curled your fingers inside of him and his cock twitched again in your throat. His head leaned back as his tied hand gripped at your leg, “ What was that?”

You lifted your mouth off of him, looking over your shoulder, “ That’s your prostate baby.”

“ ...Press it again.”

You curled your fingers again and he bucked his hips. Giving him a steady pace with fingering him and hitting his prostate each time, Jungwoo was moaning at the feel of your fingers curling inside of him. His back arching off the bed and blunt nails slighting digging into the leg he was holding.

You were enjoying yourself, making a mess out of his hole when you heard him call out for you.

“ I want more than your fingers.”

You stopped your actions as you listened to what he said.

“ You want me to do more than just fingering?” You asked him just to be sure. You pulled your fingers back out of him and got off of him to see his face. Jungwoo’s face was covered in a rosy tint, his chest was rising up and down at a fast pace and his eyes were glossy as he looked up at you.

“ Yes...I want more.”

You smiled at him as you leaned your face down to kiss his lips that made him keen, before pulling away, “ Okay baby, I’ll give you more.”

Jungwoo anxiously watched you put on your harness, attaching the toy on as well making sure it’s on correctly. He watched you coat the toy with lube thoroughly before climbing back in bed. Pouring more onto your hand as you reached down and covered his rim. You spread his legs apart even more and had his long legs resting on your hips. You stared up at him as you brought the tip of the toy to his hole. “ You still wanna keep going?”

He reached for you as you leaned over his body. Jungwoo kissed you and you couldn’t help but kiss him back with the same amount of passion that he gave you. You pulled away to look at you and gave you a comforting smile.

“ I trust you. I know you won’t intentionally hurt me and I’m just as eager to have you do this to me, so just make me feel good.” Jungwoo told you and it honestly made your heart swell. Just hearing him say that he trusts you to do this to him for the first time made you fall in love with him even more.

You leaned back down to kiss him as you slid a hand down between you two to hold the toy steady before pressing it slowly inside of him. You heard his breath hitch as you tried your best to go slow and steady and let him get accustomed to the foreign feeling. His bound arms wrapping around your neck as you continued to push inch by inch inside of him until you managed to bottom out.

You stayed still as you pulled your mouth away, hearing Jungwoo’s shaky breaths as his muscles squeezed around the toy. Trying his best to relax his body from the slight sting of the stretch.

“ How are you feeling baby?” You ask him, peppering kisses along his face as his arms kept you close. You moved his hands and untied the ribbon from his wrist. His free arms covered his face as he spoke.

“ I think...you can move now,” Jungwoo said in a breathy voice, moving his arms from his eyes to look up at you.

With that, you pulled your hips back before pushing back inside, earning a moan from your boyfriend’s lips. You kept a steady pace, keeping your thrusts shallow for the time being, just so he could get comfortable from the feeling of having something this big inside of him.

You watched his face as you fucked him. His brows knitted together, his eyes closed and mouth slightly agape as his body rocked with your movements. His moans were music to your ears as he would moan with each thrust.

“ More...” He panted out as he looked at you with glossy eyes, his ankles locking behind your back to keep you close and it was fogging your brain with sinful ideas.

“ I’ll give you more baby. I’ll give you as much as you want.” You told him as you started to snap your hips faster into him.

The change in speed made his voice get higher as you fucked into him at a quicker speed, holding his legs in your arms as you did. His cock tapping against his stomach from the force as he watched you from below.

Your face staring down at him, watching for his reactions as you pounded into him. Your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as your only focus was to make sure that he felt good. Your breast bouncing with each thrust you gave and it made him want to reach up and touch, but just staring at the image of you dominating him and making him feel good in such a new way had pre-cum oozing onto his stomach.

“ Jungwoo, you don’t understand how good you look right now. Moaning all loud and making the cutest faces as I fuck you. It’s your first time taking anything in this tight ass of yours and you’re swallowing me up with no problem. Maybe I should have asked you to do this before.” You pant as you moved his legs to press against his chest. Angling your hips at a different angle, you smiled at Jungwoo as you now started to thrust into his prostate.

Jungwoo's head was thrown back the moment the toy had rubbed against his prostate at a fast pace. His moans were becoming more desperate. It looked like tears were brimming his eyes as you started to become unforgiving in the way you thrust into him.

“ Fuck! That feels good! It feels really good!~” Jungwoo cried, the sound of skin slapping deafening any other sounds as the continuous hits to his prostate was making his head melt. Complete sentences slowly starting to drift from his mind. His mouth hanging open as broken moans echoed in the room. His hands loosely holding onto you. Jungwoo barely registered that you were kissing his neck again as he made himself swallow his moans to speak.

“...Gonna...cum...” He groans out, watching as your hand reaches down to stroke his length in time with your thrust, each one hitting his prostate as his walls clenched around the toy.

“ You can cum whenever you want baby. I want you to feel as good as possible. Cum for me Jungwoo,” you tell him as you rolled your hips up into your boyfriend, motivated by his facial expressions and sinful moans.

Jungwoo was focused on the coil deep in the pit of his stomach. His brain was fuzzy as he felt it coil tighter and tighter before feeling right at the edge of cumming but he couldn’t. Feels like he was so close, yet so far from cumming and it made him whine.

He reached for you once more, pressing another deep kiss to you, nipping his lips and stuffing your tongue inside as your thumb pressed into his slit and his eyes rolled back into his head. Back arching off the bed and his body stiffening as he came into your hand. Rolling your hips slowly to milk his orgasm longer before finally stopping when his body goes limp.

You pulled your mouth away as you both caught your breath, Staring at his face, you felt proud of yourself for making Jungwoo feel that good. You brought his legs back down, rubbing his hip as you slowly pulled the toy out of him. You took off the harness and laid down beside him.

“ You okay?” You ask him as you watched his chest slow down as his breathing started to even out. He turned his head over to look at you. For a split second his face was unreadable until he broke out into a smile.

“ That was better than what I thought it was. Maybe I should have let you do that sooner.” He grinned as he pulled you closer to his body, kissing your forehead.

“Jungwoo you can’t say something like that to me. Do you want me to fuck you again?” You joked with him as you laughed with him.

“ I mean, I wouldn’t mind you doing it again, but just not now. I can’t feel my legs.” Jungwoo said in a nonchalant tone and it only made you shake your head as you leaned back to kiss him.

“ What am I going to do with you?”

—————-

Taglist: @nocturne-overtures @queen-of-himbos @jacksons-goddess-gaia @kimnamshiks @angel0taiyo

[euphoricethan]

NSFW Alphabet - E.D

Warnings: top!ethan, major misogyny, mentions of pegging, daddy & mommy kink, overstimulation, bondage, cum denial, and threesomes.

A/n: i’m so sorry ethan is so misogynistic and the biggest asshole ever it’s the only way i see him i can’t help it. anyway hope u like it i guess omg 😛

A - aftercare

For the most part, Ethan’s after care is mainly a rag or tissue; whichever he see’s first. You usually shower alone after because he can’t be too bothered. Sometimes he’ll join you only if he wants to go another round.

B - body part (of his and your’s)

He’s genuinely obsessed with his thighs and loves seeing you ride them. He watches as your own swallow away his dark inked tattoos and how your face shifts due to the pleasure. And that being said, there isn’t anything more he loves than your pussy. He thinks to himself often how it was formed for him, but that’s the ego speaking.

C - cum (where they like to)

Most times he pulls out just to cum on your back or simply wherever he may please, but sometimes, sometimes he likes to pull you to your knees or face-on with his dick to finish on your bright red cheeks.

D - dirty secret (one they have)

He absolutely loves the idea of you taking control —of him mostly— and just being under your rule of thumb & follow every order you demand. The most it has gone when he tells you to ride on his dick, and although he wishes for you to do more, his massive, inflamed ego gets in the way and he can never get a word out. secretly SECRETLY wishes to be pegged or at least to try a plug.

E - experienced (how much they are)

He gives off— hm, very much, fuck-boy energy and has had his dick in any girl he wants... but in reality he just does what he sees and likes. No original thoughts behind those dead looking eyes.

F - favorite position

Cowgirl. He loves being able to grab handfuls of your tits while he watches you bounce on the edge of his cock. Sometimes you do this to somewhat fuck with him. He likes it a lot.

G - goofy (serious in the moment)

Sometimes you tend to forget that there’s multiple sides to him. For the most part during sex, he tends to be pretty serious. He can get really into it and will even slightly degrade you if he feels confident enough. Other times, he looses his mind in the middle of eating you out and will just break out into a fit of laughter.

H - hair (how well groomed)

He usually never trims if he doesn’t have to. He hates being fully groomed. Ethan said it makes him. “Look like those hairless cats.” You don’t fancy it either.

I - intimacy (in the moment *romantic*)

Unfortunately it’s usually never. Like ever. He feels like he doesn’t have to care unless he wants to. Which usually doesn’t last long.

J - jack off (how often)

All. The. Time. Even if he isn’t fully jerking his dick, he always, always, ALWAYS, has his hands in his pants. Rather if he’s bored in the kitchen looking for food, watching TV in the living room, in the car, in the STORE, he has an attachment to his dick and can never stop thinking about the next time you’ll swallow yourself around him.

K - kink (what are they)

Definitely has a Daddy kink, slight bondage— handcuffs and possibly a rope or two, he loves, loves, loves watching you move and squirm all over with either a toy or just his hand while he watches you cum on him. He gets proud when he makes you finish, especially if it’s hard and heavy. Overstimulation is his biggest one yes. Sometimes he has to bite his lip to stop the “Yes, Mommy,” to come out.

L - location (favorite place)

Ethan is just simply obsessed with showing you off as a trophy (mostly because of the misogyny that he sadly suffers from) and as your property. So anywhere, anytime he can touch you or even fuck you, he will.

M - motivation (gets them going)

Ethan absolutely loves taking a long HARD look at you from the kitchen table with his fidgety hands behind his computer screen while you put the dishes away or make food for yourself— sometimes him alone. It’s what usually gets him hard. He also has a tendency to stare at you from places where you can’t see him. He likes the way that you have no idea he’s watching... and only sometimes he feels guilty about it.

N - no (something they wouldn’t do)

No threesomes or other parties involved. He doesn’t like to share you since he has the mentality that you’re his property. And if somehow the scenario came to life, he’d have the outsiders watch him rail into you with you helpless to show off what’s his. He’d went above and beyond to make you squirt to further prove this.

O - oral (giving or receiving)

Giving. Except for the last paragraph I suppose. He doesn’t see the need.

P - pace (rough, fast, slow?)

He’s fast and hard. He doesn’t have time to be slow and passionate. It’s not in his best interest honestly.

Q - quickies (opinion on them)

If Ethan’s hard and you’re around & horny, it’s usually what he expects. If not, he settles for his hand or the pocket pussy you bought for him on Valentine’s day.

R - risks (willing to make/try)

Ethan’s definitely willing to get caught in public of even by the police, it pumps his blood like a boner on shrooms. Or so, that’s at least what he says.

S - stamina (how many rounds)

He’s usually out by the first, but if he feels like he’s got more in him (aka more in you) then he’ll go for at least two more rounds... but he will make you ride him and watch as you bounce on him with nearly nothing left in you besides him.

T - toys (own any/use them on u)

Once in a while, Ethan will do something he thinks is extreme and tie your hands & feet up to the posts (with help of an extra long rope) and punish your clit with the toys you’ve bought for yourself over the months. It gives him the ultimate high seeing you helpless and and even greater high wishing it was him.

U - unfair (do they like to tease)

Yes. Yes he does. The phrase, “Oh come on now, do you really think a stupid slut like you deserves my cock...” has come out of his mouth, and the same way you get even more wet every time... it’s no wonder why you’re his favorite cunt.

V - volume (how loud they are)

He’s loud and proud. He will scream, screech, cry even. You were meant for him and your perfect little holes.

W - wild card (blurb)

As you arched your back slightly against the back of the door, you felt Ethans large hands travel up to slide the hooks undone of your bra.

It sat there awkwardly for a moment, before he broke free of the kiss and lifted your shirt above your head to reveal your perfect tits.

A low groan came from within him, and you looked down slightly to watch as he grew bigger in his jeans.

“So pretty for me,” he breathed out before quickly lifting you up against the door with your legs wrapped around his waist.

His kisses grew more needy, and sloppier too since the ones on your neck were breathy and quick with desire.

So Ethan moved you from the door to the hotel bed that was perfectly made and about to be ruined.

Full with force, Ethan had you pressed firmly against the tough mattress with longer kisses that trailed from your neck to your nipples as he gently took a handful of the left and a mouthful of the right.

“Mm, wanna fuck your little holes mm.” Ethans muffled voice shot to your core, and you watched as he unbuttoned your jean shorts, only to stop before zipping them completely.

“What? You have something to say princess?” he hummed, slightly tilting his head like a curious little puppy.

You took a moment to take a quick breath, and the words were leaving your mouth before being able to comprehend what you had told him.

“Yeah, wanna top you.” you spoke, and by the look on his face, he just laughed and tugged at your shorts.

“Stupid slut like you, you don’t even know how,”

You were sitting up now, only in your underwear, and a stern look on your face that made him just look at you blankly.

“You’re serious?”

You hummed in response, and he sat on his knees while he picked his nails.

“Fine. Get over here then and show Daddy how it’s done. Let’s see if you can do it.”

Your blood started to pump quickly and to all the wrong places as you heard the words come from his mouth with a smirk.

And with that, you reached up to cup his cheeks and whispered “On your knees, please.” as Ethans eyebrows dropped and the smirk was quickly wiped away.

You watched him gulp hard and his adam’s apple bob while the smile formed on your face.

This is gonna be fun.

X - x-ray (what’s under the clothes)

Ethan is big. And sometimes it’s honestly annoying how much cock he has on him even though he doesn’t deserve it. But he puts it to good work at least so.

Y - yearning (sex drive)

It’s through the roof and nearly touches the heavens gate. And he gets SO god-damn needy for you, for your pussy. It’s like he’s a child who needs a nap.

Z - zzz (how fast do they fall asleep after)

Usually Ethan surprisingly likes to cuddle up and run his fingers through your hair until you either get up or he gets another boner thinking about how your tits were in his face. He falls asleep faster if you run your fingers through his.

[creepyalienghost]

Memories of the past

Joey stood from his seat in the corner and reached over for his Cain leaning on the wall. He took one more look at the party before hobbling down to his quite office, the noise from the music and them chatting fading away with the distance. He needed to be alone for a while, needed to be with him memories. He closed the door and walked to his chair, sitting down. There he quickly spotted the photo of him and his best pal, Henry stain.

Today Henry was retiring and Joey through this party to honor him. Everyone arrived when cards of best wishes and gives for the man. He deserved them. He was such a great and talented man with a good head on his shoulders. He helped shape up so many lives around as well as shape up their Business for the better. Joey wouldn’t be in this vary spot without him.

Joey’s fingers gripped the smooth frame and brought it closer to his face. He remembers this photo being taken by Henrys little sister when she came to visit. They have always been a close family, one of the many things Joey admires of Henry. Joey examined the photo. It was captured on the day Henry won the art competition. He was so happy that day. They both were. Henry had such an extraordinary talent for drawing. Even better then himself.

Why just a month prior to this was taken was when he and Henry first meet in college.

—-

For the first year in college Joey decided to take art, Business and English. Art is as the last class he had that day. A good way to relax his mind and have some fun. That day he was also late for it. When he got there, there was only one set left. Next to a brown headed guy with bright green eyes. He took that seat next to him and laid his supplies on the table. “What did I miss?” He ask. The brown headed guy glanced at him. “Nothing important, just missed him fighting a goat.”

That made Joey chuckle and Henry smiled at that. “I’m Henry by the way. Henry stain.” He held out his hand.

Joey shook his hand “I’m Joey. Joey drew.” He introduced himself.

The whole class that day was great! The professor spent the first hour with an art game to get to know someone there. Joey had learn that Henry had 2 sisters and a grew up in California. The second half was spent with working on there first project. Drawing of what they had learn from there partner.

After class, Henry had invited him to an art auction that night. Joey had never been to one before but had loved to go and excepted his offer. He had wear his best suit that night and when they arrived everything looked so professional. The men there had their suits and ty, the woman had there gorgeous dresses with there hair done. Everyone there was dressed their very best.

The tables were was covered in a fine golden table cloth, topping with little silver decorations in the middle of each like crystals. The servers who are task going around with drinks and food had on outfits to match the decorations. Joey thought it all looked so glorious. He wondered how Henry got into this? Later on Henry would tell Joey about his father, who was an art professor and who took his kids to things like this.

That night he had watched many people there racing to keep the art pieces they desire. Large Paintings that took so many hours of hard work, Hand crafted sculptures that were Beautifully design and many different items that so many wanted to get there hands on.

——

Joey sat back, getting more comfortable in his office chair as he remembered the first night he and Henry spent together. That was the vary start of there friendship. After that day they hung out together every day after there classes, exploring the city around them. They would often love to go to the art museums to learn about the paintings and the book stores to lates books! One of those days Henry had started there business idea.

———

It was a nice crisp autumn day! The wind ever so slightly blew around you, the sun hide behind the clouds and the temperature was just right. The perfect weather for Joey. Especially for the week of the art festival. There wear no classes that day do to the festival and of corse he and Henry went.

When they arrived there, there was the sound of music playing in the distance making joey wanting to dance. When they got though the gate Joey found face painting station near by. Susie Campbell, one of their friends, was one of them who painted and was transforming a little girl into a magical Princess.

As him and Henry walked together though the crowd tours the ride they came across a tent for a cartoon that was quite popular. Many children were gathered around trying to get pictures and autographs from there favorite characters. He and Henry stood watching the Excitement of it all.

That’s when Henry leaned in tours him as he continued watching. “We should make our own cartoon show.”

Henry was joking about it then, but he himself couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when they were months from graduating. Why boy make a cartoon show? They both loved the arts and were good at drawing. They needed writers, musicians, actors and a building though.

It wasn’t Intel the last month of college, Joey ask him about really making a cartoon studio. Henry wasn’t sure at first if they should try it but soon they came to an agreement. They would start a studio together in the next few months.

They both already knew some friends that would love to join there Studio. Joey ask Susie and she with some friends of hers agreed to join as an Voice actress. There was also his good friend Norman who’d work the projector. Henry found Sammy who promised him he could be the conductor and together they started to gather a band together. Dot, Wally, Alison and the others came along once they had the building sat and started hiring other people.

—————

Joey chuckled and sat down the picture frame. This place has grown hugely since then. So many more departments, so many more people. And with it relationships grow to. Alison and Tom happened for a few years before Alison left for Nathan and Tom stayed, Sammy and Norman has a happy and Heathy relationship still to this day, him and Susie Campbell had a thing for a while before they decided to just be friends. Henry though found love outside of the studio.

A beautiful woman name Linda. He had first meet her in an art store. He was buying more drawings books while she was buying more paint. She was a painter and damn good one at that. Her work was magnificent and sold for a great price! Joey once bought one for his mother.

They first became friends and bounded over the there passion for the arts along with other things like movies shows, and music. After around a year they officially became a couple and around five years later they finally announced they were getting married. Everyone was so excited for them to and Joey was honored when Henry ask him to be his best man there.

—-

The day of Henry’s weeding was here and Joey was of course with him helping. Henry finished buttoning up his under shirt and came over to Joey, who was waiting with his suit for him. “How do I look jojo?” He ask stretching his arms out for show.

“Almost complete!” He answered with a smile as Henry chuckled. He was so proud of his best friend for coming this far in life and knew Linda was a lucky girl to have a man like Henry.

Joey helped him into his suit on both arms then he smothered out the kinks and lumps before stepping back to get the whole picture. “What about now?” Henry ask again, only this this time spinning around for show.

Joey chuckled at him as he fixed Henry’s ty, making it nice and proper. “Now you look good!”

“All thanks to you Joey.” Henry gave him a huge grin and brought him into a hug.

Joey patted his back before they separated them a knock came from there dress room door. “Come, it’s time.”

Joey stood in his place a few feet away from Henry as they all wait for the bride. It was only a few minutes wait before the music started and everyone stood for the bride. She was stunning in that dress as she came down that ally, her father giving her away. They said their vows to each other and kisses to Seal the deal.

It wasn’t that long before Linda became pregnant with a little girl and Joey was touched when both Linda and Henry ask him to be her god father. Joey of course accepted the request. When she was born they named her after him, drew.

——

Joey whipped a tear away from his check. Drew was a smart kid growing up. Talented to. All three of them had influenced her into the arts. She would Afton beg for her father to be brought in the studio and sometimes he would let him. When she was here she never gotten in the way of others work. She would stay back and watching the band play as Sammy Lawrence guides them or listen to Susie Campbell do her lines. Sometimes she would play pranks with Wally when people were on break.

She loved all things art but takes after her father the most with Drawing. Which is why she’s about to take over Henry’s place in being one of the owners and within a few years the whole studio, once he could no longer work. He wouldn’t want his work going into any others hand.

Joey drew sighed as he looked around his office. It was good to remember memory’s sometimes but he m supposed it was time to head back to the party now. He gripped his cane, stood up with its supporter and walked out of his office.

[gideongrace]

Ahh I want 17+27 please?

Ohhhh, this is a good one! This is gonna be some kinky shit! 

//

"Steve," Billy sighs his name more than he says it. "Please." 

"I know, I'm just…" Steve, turned painfully away from Billy, roots around in the complete disaster that is his closet. He knows he's got some rope in here somewhere…

"Steve," Billy says, all but begging this time. "Come on…" 

"I know!" Steve says again, more desperate, more wild. "Just…" 

The rope's not here. He could've sworn it was in here. He knows he has some, he can even picture it exactly, it's this beautiful pale green and it's the super soft silk kinda rope made explicitly for kink. He can even remember the last time he used it…

Shit.

The last time he used it was at that girl Anna's a couple months ago - he must have left it there. 

"Steve?" Billy's suddenly at his side, all concern with his big, warm hand on his shoulder and Steve doesn't have to look to know that the same concern coloring his voice is coloring his face, too. 

He looks anyway and he finds that - yep, Billy looks just as concerned as he sounds. 

Steve, in response, sighs. 

"What'd I say?" 

Billy gives him the most disarming grin he's got in his arsenal and it's almost damn near blinding. Almost, but Steve's been doing this Dominant thing for a while now and he knows how to deal with a bratty Sub. 

He gets to his feet with a raised eyebrow and pushes back his head and shoulders, making himself appear larger, even if Billy's still got a good bit of muscle on him; that Billy is still kneeling on the floor and he's standing helps a little.

"I believe the words I used were 'stay here'," he says, pointing with an index finger towards his bed. 

Billy scowls. 

"Fine," he grumbles as he half shuffles-half crawls back to the bed, dragging his feet so they squeak along the hardwood along the way. 

Steve sighs again as he watches Billy set himself squarely in the center of the mattress, looking like a golden-haired, angelic island in the middle of a navy blue sea. 

It's beautiful… but it's also all wrong. 

He walks over to the bed with the walking speed and countenance his first police captain had taught him - slow but determined, calm but not friendly. 

He crawls onto the bed and pushes Billy back, tips him over with one finger to the chest and Billy goes without complaint and without a struggle, tips over as easy as blowing over a feather but he also sprawls out like an octopus when he lands and he's got the biggest, most shit-eating grin on his face as he does it and Steve isn't quite sure if he wants to kiss him or hit him for it.

But, instead of either of those, he grunts and grabs Billy's hands one at a time and drags them up to the bottom rung of his metal lattice headboard and holds his hands there until his fingers uncurl one by one and he wraps them around the cool, cold metal. 

Then finally, finally, with that finally done (even though Billy still has his legs spread wide and that grin on his face) Steve says, "Stay here," and goes back to looking for something to tie Billy up with because lord knows, Billy's not going to stay where he's put. Not for long. 

"I just want cuddles and obedience," Steve grumbles, more to himself than anything, "Is that so hard? Cuddles and obedience. And rope." 

He's strongly considering using the one and only tie he's got hanging limply off a deserted tie rack lingering in his closet - he's never really liked the thing anyway and barely ever even needs it - when he spots a spare pair of handcuffs dangling out of a shoe sitting in the corner and he thinks, Perfect. 

Of course, when he turns to face Billy with them, Billy is lying with one hand spread lazily over his stomach and the other only just barely clinging to the headboard by the barest touch of a pinkie. 

And Billy's still got that fucking grin, the one that he just knows lights a fire in Steve's bones, the one that he just knows sets all Steve's edges to razor blades and his insides to barbed wire. 

But instead of saying anything even half that challenging, Billy says, "Really, Stevie? Handcuffs? A little cliche, isn't it?" his voice a soft and gentle purr that fights tooth and claw against that grin. Fights tooth and claw and loses.

And it makes Steve want to roar, makes Steve want to become like thunder and crack the sky and rattle the windows, but instead he remains calm, instead he holds the handcuffs gently in his hands like there's nothing threatening about them, like there's no threat at all and he says, "Oh, right, 'cause I'm the cliche," all delicate, gentle teasing as he prowls towards the bed. 

"Last week you wore your fireman's pants to the grocery store on your day off just to see if you could get a discount," he says as he climbs up and over his navy blue comforter - the one that matches the sheets he'd bought when he'd started dating Billy. 

In response, Billy snorts and the tension breaks and falls away as easily as snow sliding down a roof in the middle of winter. "Yeah, I guess we're both cliches, huh?" 

Steve rolls his eyes. "Sure, an asexual gay firefighter and an asexual bi cop, super cliche." 

He holds the handcuffs up questioningly, giving Billy a last chance to back out if he really wants to. 

When Billy's grin morphs into this dopey, happy look and he wraps his hands up around the middle rung of the headboard as tight as they'll go, when he nods and holds his body perfectly straight and perfectly still, when he does all of that, Steve advances, closing the distance between the two of them to lay himself over Billy as he chains his wrists up to the headboard. 

"There," he says, leaning back to admire his handiwork and the way that now that he's got what he wants Billy is perfectly behaved, perfectly still, perfectly obedient just like he knows Steve wants. 

Steve lets out a breath as he watches Billy breathe heavily underneath him and he can't help it, he needs to feel it so he drags his hands down Billy's chest and groans, stopping just over his nipples and thumbing them gently. 

"Alright," he says, once he's looked his fill, once he thinks the pattern of Billy's breathing has been imprinted into his skin, "Let's get started."

fic tag squad:

@a-magey @xgardensinspace @myboyfriendsteve @haxpr0cess @thinger-strang @nagdabbit @demi-don @lissieisspacey @tracy7307

(I can add or remove people from this list just let me know in a comment or whatever. 😁)

[beyondconfessor]

Principle Decisions [20/?]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Zelda Spellman/Lilith

Summary: It’d been a while since she’d waltzed with anyone, she realised. She didn’t mind how it felt, especially when Lilith looked at her with such bright eyes. As if she’d never been so happy. 

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief.

Christmas Eve was spent ensuring Sabrina had absolutely everything she needed, before dropping her off at the Walkers, and then Zelda returned home and casually mentioned to Hilda that they would need to set an extra plate for tomorrow’s dinner.

The moment Zelda mentioned that Mary Wardwell had planned on spending Christmas alone, her sister had practically choked up, going on about the poor dear, alone on Christmas! Until Zelda pointed out that she wouldn’t be, and then Hilda had given her a strange look as if she’d been surprised by Zelda’s empathy.

Perhaps empathy wasn’t always obvious in her attempts to look after those she cared about, but she did make an effort.

Lilith arrived around eleven in the morning, which meant that Ambrose was still asleep upstairs and Hilda was working away in the kitchen, midway through meal prep so Zelda was able to press a kiss against Lilith’s lips without anyone seeing, uncaring in how self-indulgent it was. “Hello,” she greeted.

“Hello,” Lilith purred. “Is this where we make some excuse about exploring the house, and you show me your bedroom?”

Zelda laughed. “Later,” she said. “Things to do first. And before you think of yourself a comedian, you’re low on that list for today.”

“I’m sure I could find my way on top.”

Zelda rolled her eyes, helping her set down her bag, and pulling off her jacket to set on the hook. With ease, Zelda laced their fingers together and led her through the house. There was no reason to do it, but for the fact that Lilith’s hand in her own, their fingers laced together, felt comfortable in a way she couldn’t ever remember having with another.

As they came to the dining room, she gave her fingers a squeeze, before dropping her hand as they entered the kitchen.

“Oh!” Hilda greeted as she pulled off her oven mitts, untying her apron to come over and kiss Lilith’s cheek. “Lovely to see you, Mary.”

“Thank you for the invitation.”

“Oh, you’re perfectly welcome. But I can’t take credit––that was all Zelda, so I’m to understand.”

“Indeed,” Lilith said, turning her eyes to Zelda’s. “Quite insistent that I didn’t spend the holiday alone.”

“No, that would have been dreadful. And we have plenty of food to share around,” she said, making her way back to the kitchen to put her apron.

All of the food had been prepped the night before, the ham was well on its way to baking since the early hours of the morning, which left only the finer things like finishing the pie and roasting the vegetables.  “You too don’t need to loiter around here, I’m sure there are other things you could be doing.”

Had Zelda not been well familiar with her sister, she would have suspected that Hilda knew something. As it was, she merely raised her eyebrows and led Lilith out of the room.

“And where does that leave us?” Lilith asked.

“Setting the table,” Zelda advised. “Ambrose will likely be down soon.” Showing Lilith where the fine china was set, they removed the plates and cutlery, setting out the table for the four of them, with the good crystal. And then Zelda folded the Christmas cloth napkins into bishops hats.

“Oh, Zelds!” Hilda called from the kitchen, “Why don’t you put some carols on?”

Zelda rolled her eyes. So far, she’d deflected her sister’s attempts to find and dig-up the radio in the kitchen. But it seemed that Hilda was now trying to corner her with Lilith’s presence.

“Not a fan of carols?” Lilith inquired.

“Certainly not,” she said.

“But it is Christmas,” Lilith countered. “Wouldn’t want people to think that you’re a grinch.”

“Hardly. Does it look like a reside in some cave?”

“Oh, my apologies. I should have said a Scrooge.”

“Bah-humbug,” she said flatly, watching as glee shot over Lilith’s face. It was enough to make her smile, a warmth filling her despite the chill that settled in the old house.

“Well, despite your loathing of Christmas, I hope I get to unwrap something later.”

Zelda shot her a warning look, her mouth tilting into a smile. “Careful,” she warned, her voice low so Hilda wouldn’t overhear. “You may be my Queen, but this is my domain.”

“And what happens in your domain, should someone act up?”

“Mm, are you sure you want to find out?”

“Now you’re just teasing.”

Zelda rolled her eyes, heading into the parlour to set up the record player, placing on one of the classic Christmas records that Hilda owned. Familiar songs drew from it, and Zelda couldn’t help but feel her heart lift as she watched as Lilith settled to lean on the arm of a chair, smiling at her with genuine warmth.

At the very least, they were friends. Friends who fucked and engaged in kink, but friends nonetheless.

“Is there something on my face?” Lilith asked. “Or are you just caught in the rapture of my beauty?

Yes, she wanted to answer, but she shook her head instead. “Did you want a drink?”

“What did you have?”

“Hilda’s made apple cider on the stove from an old family recipe. Otherwise, we can open up a bottle of something if you prefer.”

Lilith drew in a deep breath, and her eyes stared at Zelda, awash with delight. “Mm, no, I think I want to keep a clear head. The cider sounds nice,” she agreed.

Zelda hummed, drawing the woman into the kitchen again to pour the drinks for three of them, and then they hovered as Lilith spoke of her mishaps with eggnog as a teenager as Ambrose made his way downstairs, entering the kitchen before he saw Lilith. Eyebrows raising, he looked between the two women but had the decency to hold his tongue––though Zelda suspected he’d was putting two and two together.

She should be anxious about that, but when her eyes glanced to Lilith’s, she felt an ease flood through her as she sipped at the cider. Would it be so bad if her family did find out?

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Afternoon,” Zelda corrected, pointing to the clock. “Though you’re just in time for lunch, I suspect.”

“Oh yes,” Hilda said, setting out the ham. “Meat’s done, salad’s set, and I’ll just pop the pie in to warm.”

“Quite a feat,” Lilith commented.

Zelda hummed in agreement. “Traditionally, we usually open up Christmas presents after lunch, but since Sabrina’s spending the holidays with Miss Walker, we decided to open them up early as a family.”

“I’m sure she appreciated that.”

“I did get one for you,” Zelda said. “Should you feel so inclined.”

Lilith paused to look at her, her mouth going to say something before she seemed to remember the context of where they were. “That sounds lovely,” she said instead.

Hilda coughed, summoning the attention on her. “Shall we?” she said.

They adjourned to the dining room, with Zelda sitting next to Lilith, Hilda and Ambrose across from them. Unlike the dinner party, the conversation stayed away from pressing topics, instead of discussing work, the weather, school for Lilith and Ambrose both, before moving on to other topics as the record player continued to fill the room with songs of Christmas carols.

When that finished, Ambrose rose and change the record to another Christmas album of the 80s and 90s hits that usually played through the grocery store around this time of year.

The food was delicious, the cider complimenting it well, as it’d been every other year, and yet all of that paled to how bold she felt, setting her hand on Lilith’s leg, knowing that their chairs were too close together for Hilda or Ambrose to notice.

“I’m stuffed,” Ambrose declared, setting back in his seat. “I think I need to lie down.”

“You only just woke-up,” Zelda scoffed.

“I was up all night working on my thesis,” Ambrose explained. “I’ve only had a few hours of sleep.”

Zelda softened at that, pleased to note her nephew’s dedication to his work. “Why don’t you and Hilda adjourn to the television and put something on. Li-Mary and I,” she said, quickly correcting herself, “will put everything away.”

Ambrose nodded, making an ungraceful act of unbuttoning the top of his pants as he walked away. Hilda shook her head, “Boys,” she murmured, sharing a smile with Lilith and Zelda both before she looked around. “You sure you don’t need help?”

“You cooked, Hildie. It’s the least we can do,” Zelda said.

Hilda flushed, and then for an unknown reason, began to look quite misty-eyed. For one horrible moment, Zelda wondered if her tone had been sharp before she realised her sister was grinning. “Oh, well, alright then,” she said. “I’ll grab the cookies and set up the television set.”

Confused by her sister’s softened mood, Zelda rose from the table, watching as Hilda drew to where the gingerbread biscuits were before she took them over to tv room. Already, Zelda could hear the distant sound of Ambrose setting up the television, flicking through their collection.

“This was lovely,” Lilith said.

“You’re not leaving yet, so don’t even think of making an excuse.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Lilith said. “After all, I need to give you your present. And collect on mine.”

Zelda turned, giving her a look. “And what, exactly, is your present?”

“Exactly as you asked.”

Zelda’s eyes narrowed, trying to recall, but all she remembered was a rather distasteful comment about a pearl necklace. Were Lilith to have bought a real set of pearls, she would be torn between amusement and annoyance at the woman’s expensive idea of a joke.

“Good, because I really do have something for you, as well.”

“You already gave me one.”

Zelda smirked, feeling pride flush through her at that memory as she picked up the food to take into the kitchen. “It’s only something small,” she assured.

Lilith helped her clear the table, and as she began filling up the sink to wash dishes, Zelda placed the food into containers, setting them in the fridge, knowing that Ambrose would likely pick at it through the night.

The music from the record player filtered through the room, and once all the food had been set aside, the main counter wiped down, she grabbed a tea towel and began drying the dishes, setting them aside to be placed away.

“Were your family not so close,” Lilith said. “I would have you bent over this counter.”

Zelda smirked. “And what makes you think that I wouldn’t have you? I think you’d look rather lovely on the dining room table spread out for me.”

She watched as Lilith dropped a fork, her cheeks flushing red as she turned and looked at Zelda, desire spreading through her expression. Zelda knew she had her there as she stepped closer, reaching into the water to take out the dropped knife before she began drying it on the tea towel. “You know, I’m very handy with a knife,” she informed Lilith, staring boldly at her.

“Are you now?”

“Mm. I would enjoy unwrapping you.”

Lilith’s breath came in short, and then she turned, looking at the two doors before the sound of Ambrose and Hilda’s laughter echoed from the other side of the house. Washing up forgotten, Lilith grabbed her by the hips and kissed her with hot, feverish passion.

Zelda melted against her, feeling the thrill rise inside of her before she stepped back and laughed. “Be good,” she warned.

“And if I’m not?” Lilith dared.

“Then I’m sure I can find a wooden spoon in one of these drawers before I strong-arm you into my office.”

“That sounds like encouragement to me,” Lilith said, and again Zelda watched as desire seemed to draw from her, a deep hunger for what was being offered. Zelda enjoyed it, especially the way Lilith looked at her as if she was prepared to do anything she asked.

There were so many things Zelda could ask of her. Her family was far away, the island counter would hide her should anyone come creeping into the kitchen. She could make Lilith service her here.

But no, that would be wrong.

Zelda cleared her throat, returning to the drying up, watching as Lilith plunged her hands into the water again. A comfortable silence sat between them, and Zelda found her thoughts drifting as she peaked at Lilith from the corner of her eye.

She could feel the words filling up her throat again, a need to tell Lilith that she loved her before she pressed them away. They were happy, she reminded herself. This, what they had together now, was enough. She didn’t need to ruin it by telling her feelings.

Zelda focused on cleaning the fork, she hardly heard the woman’s voice until dishwashing foam was flicked onto her face.

Zelda blinked, recoiling as she blinked at Lilith. “Did you just––“ Lilith flicked her hands again, and Zelda flinched, glaring at her before she grabbed at a piece of foam and flicked it back at the woman. “See, that’s not very––“ she cut off as Lilith flicked her again with foam, and then before Zelda could even find in her self to snap back at her. Lilith had grabbed her, pulling her close.

“I was telling you that looked beautiful,” Lilith said. And then before Zelda could even realise what they were doing, she was swaying, as Lilith had one hand on her hip, the other in hers, pulling her into a waltz.

It’d been a while since she’d waltzed with anyone, she realised. She didn’t mind how it felt, especially when Lilith looked at her with such bright eyes. As if she’d never been so happy.  “So you thought you’d dance with me?” Zelda asked

Lilith nodded. “I did, indeed,” she said, and it was then that Zelda noticed the music swelling high in the background. It was hard to remain cross when Lilith held her firmly, hips swaying, feet leading her before she spun her around in what was not a part of a waltz.

Laughing, she turned back and grabbed at Lilith’s waist, her other hand still in Lilith’s grip as she took to leading, showing her how to actually waltz.

“Oh, I see,” Lilith said. “So even here you have to lead?”

“My domain,” she reminded, dancing her around the kitchen. “I used to be quite adequate at partnered dancers.”

“Of course you were. You went to boarding school, didn’t you?”

“And what does that mean?”

“Just that…the great Zelda Spellman never ceases to surprise me in the many things she knows.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Zelda pointed out, though she did mean it. There was a grace to Lilith that came from experience.

“Mm. Well, I did take-up partnered dancing to practice for my wedding.”

Zelda kept moving, continuing to lead them around as she watched Lilith’s expression soften. Her eyes sparkled in the kitchen light, but she didn’t grow distant, almost as if she was reaching out, hoping to share that part of her.

“You would have been beautiful, a beautiful bride. He was fortunate to have known you.”

“He was a better dancer than I. Took to it naturally.” And Zelda watched as Lilith’s expression turned fond, drifting in the memory, before her eyes returned to Zelda’s, softness returning. “Have you ever married?”

“Almost, a few times, but the love of my work became too much for any partner that proposed.”

“Their loss,” Lilith said, and then suddenly Zelda was being spun again before dizzyingly been brought back into Lilith’s arms. “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“I would say the same about you.”

“Mm. I wonder what that means?”

Zelda smiled, feeling her heart warm as she dared herself to say something before Lilith paused suddenly and let go. Zelda turned, looking over her shoulder to glance at Ambrose hovering outside of the kitchen, momentarily stunned by what he’d witnessed. “Don’t mind me,” he said. “Just…” and then he made his way to the fridge, picking at the pieces of the sliced ham before disappearing back to the movie.

Zelda bit her lip, waiting for the panic to set…but it didn’t come. If anything she felt an almost relief flood through her.

Ambrose saw them, and although he’d been awkward from stepping into what had clearly been an intimate moment, he had the decency to act like it was not something to be worried about.

Zelda reached beside her, taking Lilith’s hand and giving it a squeeze. They returned to the washing up, with Zelda finishing the drying up. Through-out it Zelda found herself smiling, still awash with happiness from dancing. A part of her wanted to reach for Lilith again but knew the moment had passed. The record was winding to the last song as they set the plates back in the cupboard, glasses and cutlery set away.

The dining table was wiped down, the kitchen was swept, and napkins were taken to the laundry before, at last, Zelda poured Lilith and herself a glass of cider both as they made their way to where the television was. Ambrose was lounging across the arms of the armchair, as Hilda sat in her usual chair, glasses low on her nose and a quilt over her lap.

Zelda sat on the lounge and watched as Lilith sat on the other side of the couch.

A random Christmas movie was playing––likely from Ambrose or Sabrina’s collection––and as it did, Zelda felt the chill of the room settle over her. The fire was dying, and Ambrose seemed half-asleep in his chair, making no attempt to feed it.

Standing up, Zelda went to where the other quilt was kept and brought it out, moving to sit closer on the lounge seat next to Lilith, so as to set the quilt over them both. She didn’t care, she decided, if Hilda or Ambrose knew.

It was Christmas, and she was happy. And she wanted a relationship, a real, proper relationship with Lilith. Loathe as she was to admit it, given how rude it’d been, but Marie was right to question Zelda in her hesitance to take the next step.

She wanted to sit next to Lilith and hold her hand and flirt with her openly. And kiss her if she so chose.

So she slid her hand next to Lilith’s, allowing their hands to brush, and from the corner of her eye watched as Lilith glanced at her, before smiling. The woman lifted her hand, fingertips brushing over the back of hers in a tease.

“I hate this movie,” Lilith whispered, low enough for the others to not hear.

“So do I.”

When the movie finished, darkness had crept outside. “I’ll make some cocoa, hmm?” Hilda said, rising to her feet.

Ambrose blinked tiredly, stretching, before he took out the movie and placed another in, returning to sit back in the chair like it was any other Christmas. It was another movie that Zelda took no favour to, but she found herself not even half minding as her shoulders brushed against Lilith’s.

Hot cocoa was brought out, set up and Hilda made no attempt to say anything, though Zelda didn’t miss her not-so-secret smile to herself.

Zelda took the cocoa and then nudged at Lilith, knowing the woman was likely finding the movie as tedious as she was.

Pushing the blanket aside, Zelda grabbed their coats and lead her to the back porch, opening the door to sit outside. It was cold, the frostbiting, but the cocoa kept her hands warm as she moved to sit on the bench, sipping at the cocoa as Lilith drew next to her.

“So,” Lilith said. “Forgive me for being candid, but I couldn’t help but notice how…cosy you were.”

Zelda swallowed, taking a moment to steady herself. “May I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I…like you a lot,” she said, turning to look at Lilith. “I don’t want this arrangement to be just an arrangement. I can’t…enter into a relationship until I ensure both Ambrose and Sabrina are fine with it, but I want that. With you.”

“A relationship?”

Zelda nodded, looking away to stare out at the evening sky. It was dark with the cloud cover, cold, so cold she felt that it might even snow. “I detest the word girlfriend, but…you don’t have to agree to it. We can keep it as it is, but I—“

“Zelda,” Lilith said, her name a soft whisper in the night and Zelda turned to look at her again, watching the woman’s mouth smile, before she was leaning forward to kiss her.

She tasted of chocolate and cinnamon, and Zelda moaned against it, her mouth tasting her again and again, before she pulled away, watching as Lilith licked her lip, a bright smile on her face. It was enough that she wanted to kiss her again.

“Am I to suppose that means you also want this?” Zelda asked.

Lilith laughed, her breath coming out in fog into the night air. “Yes,” she said, turning to look at Zelda. “Now invite me upstairs, and I’ll show you the Christmas present I bought you.”

“Are you wearing it?” Zelda asked, eyes drawing over Lilith’s body.

“No, but I’m intrigued as to what you think it is.”

Zelda ignored the question, choosing instead to do as she was asked and lead her back inside, through the kitchen, up the rear stairs and to her bedroom. And then the bedroom door was being shut, and Lilith was drawing her eyes around the room, looking like she was going to start rifling through her drawers.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Lilith turned on her heel and smirked. “Think about what?” she asked.

“Touching things.”

At that, the mischief returned to Lilith, and she had turned to face Zelda completely. “And whatever ever will you do, Professor Spellman, if I were to touch things.”

“Try it and find out.”

Lilith drew in a long deep breath, her eyes running over Zelda’s form as if to drink her in. “I need to start visiting you in your own domain more if this is how you act.”

“Tired of seeing me on my knees?”

“Never,” Lilith said, her face completely serious. And then she was walking over, and Zelda could feel the coolness of her hands as she held her waist. “Do I get to unwrap my Christmas present, now?” she asked.

Zelda laughed. “You asked me here to give me my gift, or have you forgotten?”

Lilith grinned and then she was pulling out a box from her pocket. It was long and thin, wrapped in emerald paper and tied with a ribbon. Zelda smiled, wondering if it was, indeed, an alleged pearl necklace as she removed the ribbon and then gently unpeeled the wrapping with her nail, careful to not tear it.

“Oh,” Lilith said. “You’re one of those people.”

“Careful, or you won’t get your present.”

“By the time you finish unwrapping, it’ll be morning and no-longer Christmas.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “Honestly,” she said, before setting the wrapping paper aside and then carefully opening the box.

Inside was a necklace, a fine gold chain, with an elegant design of gold loops that would hang low between her cleavage. It was beautiful, and Zelda picked it up from the box, admiring it.

“There’s a thing in the kink community known as a day collar,” Lilith advised. “I was planning on…officially asking if you would consider entering into an exclusive relationship with me as well. But it seems that you asked me first.”

“You were going to propose monogamy?”

Lilith became shy, an uncertainty wavering over her. Zelda stepped closer, and then handed her the necklace, turning around to pull her hair over the shoulder. There was a pause, and then Lilith placed the necklace carefully over her throat before her lips pressed against her skin. Zelda sighed, feeling warmth spread through her chest.

She turned in Lilith’s arms, looking to her. “There’s something to be said about monogamy,” Zelda advised as she set her hands on Lilith’s shoulders. “I won’t ask you to give up your work. But I would like to be the only person you come home to.”

Lilith smiled. “I should hope you don’t ask me to give up my job. It’d be rather strange for you to request me to stop being a Principal to date you.”

“No, I meant––“

“Zelda, I closed those services off days ago. I only got back into the business because…” she paused then, looking pained. “Because I was lonely, and it was a way to feel intimacy without damaging the memory of Adam.”

“If it hurts, we don’t have to do this. We can––“

“You don’t listen, do you?” Lilith said, laughing. “I want this. I want you. There’s only you, Zelda.”

With those words, Zelda felt incandescent in that moment. A foolish part of her want to leap into her arms or spin her around, or kiss her so suddenly that Lilith would be melting under her touch––but she did none of those things. Instead, she just looked at Lilith, and for a moment, she could imagine their lives together.

All the Christmases, the Thanksgiving and birthdays. Even Valentine’s Day. There would be anniversaries and holidays, excuses to disappear together for the weekend or travel or a hundred and one other things.

The thought should have terrified her, and maybe a part of her was scared about how easy it was to see a possible life flash before her, but it settled and then there was only the here and now.

Only Lilith.

She leant forward and pressed her mouth to Lilith’s, feeling the necklace slide between her breasts. It was a beautiful gift, making her own pale in contrast––though she supposed she could always offer a filthy fantasy to be fulfilled, should Lilith so wish.

“You want to know my favourite part about this,” Lilith said, giving the last loop of the necklace a tug. “There are attachments that go right…here,” she advised, fingers tweaking at nipples through the material of Zelda’s clothes.

Zelda recoiled, grabbing at her chest. “How did you do that?” she asked.

“I have a gift of always knowing where a woman’s nipples are,” she advised. “You wouldn’t believe how handy it is.”

“I’m sure I can imagine,” Zelda said, trying to ignore the way that her nipples were now painfully erect. She pulled away from the woman then, shooting her a look before making her way over to the dresser where she’d set out the printed file earlier that morning. “I need you to understand that I thought about this before…I even realised how much I––wanted you,” she said, hoping Lilith didn’t notice the brief hesitation as she tried to focus on not saying the word ‘love’.

Lilith softened, moving to sit on the end of Zelda’s bed as she watched her shuffle with the papers. “Did you write me a love letter?” she asked. “Or something filthy?”

Zelda flushed. “Certainly not.”

“Shame, I haven’t had any erotic poetry written about me.”

Zelda looked away, hating how seductive the woman looked as she crossed her leg, bouncing her foot absent-mindedly, grinning at her. It was enough to make Zelda’s thoughts utterly distracted by how her mouth formed the word filthy.

“I…had thought about what you said with Marie, about the arts,” Zelda advised. “And I liked the idea of…going to an Art Museum with you, so I looked, and next week there’s a new show that’s opened in the city on modern art, which I felt you would likely enjoy showing me around.”

Lilith’s grin only widened. “Did you plan the Girlfriend Experience for New Year's Eve?”

“I…no, nothing like that. And I still need to speak to Sabrina before we’re together, but I just thought––“

“I love it,” Lilith said, and her face was soft as she looked at her. “How many days?”

“Thursday, coming back Sunday morning. And then I’ll pick up Sabrina that night and…” she trailed off, feeling the future flash before her. Of speaking to Sabrina, of her niece’s indifference or perhaps, conserved annoyance, before Zelda pushed through and found her and Ambrose’s acceptance for her to date.

And then it would be her birthday, and she’d have someone to share that with.

“Zelda,” Lilith said, and then she lifted a hand and crooked her finger. Zelda came over and presented the papers and watched as Lilith adjusted her legs before she grabbed at Zelda’s waist and tugged her down on her lap.

Only then did she take the papers and look them over, her eyes scrutinising the exhibition tickets, the hotel booking, confirmation of a restaurant.

“Whatever would you have done if I said no?”

“Gone by myself,” Zelda said. “Or taken someone else. It’s…” she trailed off, and coughed, not wanting to admit that she’d been self-indulgent and had planned it as part of her birthday to herself. She could find a friend to attend the museum and the dinner, there was no reason either of those things had to be romantic.

But she wanted them to be.

Lilith continued to look it over. “I like that you print out your travel plan. I expect you’ll probably take it with you in a folder.”

“Don’t be rude,” Zelda said, not wanting to admit that she would do something similar.

At that, Lilith’s eyes looked up at hers. “Or what?” she asked, her tone turning suggestive. “You’ll…punish me?”

“I just might.”

Lilith smirked at, and then Zelda felt a hand on her back. There was a tension laying between them, as Lilith held back, waiting for her to make the first move.

So be it.

She leant towards her and kissed her, drawing her mouth over Lilith’s before adjusting herself, turning in her lap. She drew up the skirt of her dress and straddled Lilith’s legs, her hands sliding over the woman’s shoulders and parted her mouth, slipping her tongue over Lilith’s to feel her moan sweetly.

And then she heard the sound of the papers being tossed beside her.

Zelda made a murmured noise of annoyance, pulling away to turn and look to where they’d been tossed, only to have Lilith’s mouth move down her neck and throat, kissing her firmly.

And then Zelda was sighing, feeling her breath come out in an exhale.

“You could treat the present with some respect.”

“They’re papers,” Lilith said. “I’ll be on my most wicked behaviour for you on the weekend.” And then Lilith was lying back, pulling Zelda with her as she continued to kiss over her neck, her hands drawing behind Zelda’s back to unzip the dress.

Here, Zelda drew back and looked at Lilith, spilling the dress down her arms before she stood off from the woman and undressed, watching as Lilith did the same. And then when clothes were removes, discarded to the ground like the thrown paper, she settled again on Lilith’s lap, kissing her slowly, sweetly as she tasted her mouth, hands running through her hair.

“What do you want?” Lilith asked, and Zelda felt her hands draw over her thighs, sliding up her hips. “You could sit on my face,” she teased.

Zelda laughed and then looped her arms around Lilith’s neck, a sudden shyness creeping on her. “I…” she swallowed and watched as Lilith’s humour softened, an earnest curiosity as she patiently waited.

“Whatever you want,” Lilith said. “I don’t have any judgement.”

“No, I…I want to lead,” she said. “But only if you want that. I know last time you––“

Lilith’s hands settled over Zelda’s shoulders as she leant up and kissed her briefly. “I would very much so enjoy that,” she said. “Now you have to live up to all of your boastings.”

“I will,” Zelda shot back. She paused, glancing over Lilith’s face, ensuring the woman was genuine in her excitement before she pressed forward and kissed her.

She was slow in her desire, wanting to take a chance to drink at the moment. She kissed Lilith’s mouth, then her jaw and down her shoulders before pressing the woman back on the bed. And then she kissed down her body.

It was a form of worship, in her own way, as she kissed over her breasts, drawing her body down the abdomen and feeling Lilith’s breath slowly draw in and then out in a low exhale. She kissed down her sides and over her hips. She wasn’t sure if Lilith wanted more if she wanted teeth and nails and a passionate romp.

And maybe Zelda wanted those things too.

But right then, she wanted to taste Lilith’s body, she wanted to feel her lungs expand with a breath, feel the vibration of a moan in her throat. She wanted to see the skin prick with anticipation as she drew down. She wanted, more than anything, to hear her sigh and watch her hands dig into her sheets.

So Zelda was slow. She pressed her mouth down the woman’s thighs, kissing up between them as Lilith parted them. She slid her fingers up the woman’s hips and, her mouth over the public mound and watched as Lilith tilted her head to look at her, a soft smile tugging on her lips that made her heart flutter.

And then Zelda kissed over her sex, her tongue slow and lazy, tasting over the labia and the coated arousal.

Lilith sighed, her hand drawing through and combing through Zelda’s hair. It was gentle, soft as if she was reaching out just to hold her.

Zelda’s tongue drew firmly, eagerly until Lilith’s hips were rocking in sync, her thighs clenching. Zelda felt her hands tug in her hair before relaxing, a slow-building tempo growing with them.

She loved her, and it was easy to allow that to spill in how she flicked her tongue, how she stroked and kissed and tasted her. She loved her, so she ran her hands up her hips and pulled her deeper onto her tongue. She loved her, so she moaned between her legs and heard Lilith gasp in response.

She loved her, loved her with her entire being, so when Lilith’s moans turned to whimpers and small cries, Zelda felt her heart pull inside of her.

She’d give Lilith anything, anything she wanted. She would reach up to the skies and pluck the moon if Lilith wanted to wear it around her neck.

She loved her, but she couldn’t tell her, so she said it over and over and over with her tongue, as Lilith’s hands curled in her hair, and her hips rocked against hers and she came with a loud, gasp and her name on her lips.

And then Zelda drew up on the bed and kissed her, feeling Lilith’s eagerness to draw over her.

“Perhaps it wasn’t boasting,” Lilith teased, when she pulled away, her hands stroking over Zelda’s face gently. It was enough to make Zelda’s heartache, desperation pulling in her to tell her.

Zelda felt insecurity rising in her, wondering if she perhaps hadn’t satisfied her before she settled it down. “I’m not done with you yet,” she purred.

“Are you sure? It’s getting late?“

“Stay,” Zelda said. “I would very much so like it if you stayed.”

“If I stay overnight, your family will know.”

“I’m sure,” Zelda said. “I don’t care what they say. I just want you.”

In the dim light of the room, she could see Lilith smiling, and for a moment, it looked almost as if her eyes sparkled. “You could steal a girl’s heart by talking that way.”

Zelda pressed forward, kissing her again before she pulled back. “There’s one other thing I want,” she said, as she began to lazily draw a pattern on Lilith’s hip, watching her eyebrows rose in curiosity. “After all, you are my Queen.”

“I am,” Lilith said, and her expression softened with arousal. “Tell me, handmaiden,” and then Zelda felt the woman’s fingers tug on the new necklace, reminding her. “What is it that you desire from your queen?”

“A queen deserves a worthy throne,” she teased. “And what better throne than her handmaiden?’

“Mm. Are you asking me to sit on your face?”

“I am,” she said boldly.

Lilith laughed and then shifted in the bed to sit up. “Well, how could I refuse such an offer.” She paused then, looking at her and seemed to smile as she tilted her head. “You don’t need to be gentle with me.”

“Oh––“ Zelda gasped, feeling a sudden rush of embarrassment.

“Don’t mistake me. I needed that, especially for the first time since I’d let anyone have sex with me. But I trust you. You don’t need to gentle, and…I would very much like to see what you can truly offer.”

“Perhaps that’s it,” Zelda said. “Would that be so terrible?”

Lilith smiled. “Not at all. If your mouth was on me like for the rest of my days, I would die a very satisfied woman.”

“But you do like it rough?” Zelda asked, ensuring she understood.

“I do.”

“And you want that?”

“Mm, only if you do.”

“Well…I’ll see what I can do,” Zelda teased. “It might be something I need to work up to being able to do as well as you.”

“Of course,” Lilith nodded, and her expression shifted into a genuine smile. “I won’t ever ask for anything you don’t want to do. You can refuse.”

“Sit on my face, and we’ll discuss after that.”

Lilith nodded.

Zelda felt an excitement grow, knowing that Lilith’s expectations were lower. She was asking, politely, for more passion, and Zelda was promising to attempt.

Zelda settled back on the bed, fixing her hair behind herself as she laid down on the bed and watched as Lilith shifted, her knees adjusting on either side of her head. And then Zelda’s hands were drawing up the woman’s hips, and she felt Lilith’s fingers entwine in hers, holding her hands steady before she settled her sex down onto her mouth.

This time, Zelda wasn’t lazy or sweet. She was eager with her tongue, tasting over the women and feeling the arousal coat over her tastebuds. There was nothing more she wanted than to taste her again and again, feeling her shake and shiver.

“Zelda,” Lilith gasped, and Zelda felt her hands let go before there was the creak of Lilith grabbing at the bed head. Zelda didn’t let up. Last time was a declaration, this was a need to prove how wicked her tongue could be. An unholy offering that had Lilith forgetting where she was as she gasped and purred her name in eagerness.

Zelda’s nails dug into her hips, moving them as she desired when Lilith’s rocking became shaken her by the building orgasm. She tugged her deeper onto her tongue, and drew her mouth over the labia, sucking over the clit as her teeth drew over it dangerously, warning what she was capable of.

And then, where Lilith was drawing close, she drew her mouth up, focusing on the clit as she slid two fingers inside of her, curling and pressing inside of her as she listened to Lilith’s panted breath turn into desperate eagerness.

Lilith’s hand grabbed at her hair, tugging her forcefully as Zelda laughed between her thighs, returning to sucking on the clit, tongue swirling around it decadently as she continued stroke inside of the woman, feeling the muscles clench forcefully around her.

She could take more, so Zelda slid another finger inside of her, filling her up as she stroked firmly.

“I’m––“ Lilith gasped, “Going to get you…” she gasped, her eyes opening to look down at her. “I’m going to fuck you with an inch of your life after––oh my God, Zelda, don’t stop.” Lilith’s head tossed back, her body bowing over the bedhead and Zelda couldn’t help but feel the growing pride inside of her as she watched the woman rock over her fingers and tongue, how she looked beautifully erotic coming undone.

Lilith clenched around her fingers, her body jerking with a cry, and then Zelda pressed harder, stroking firmer to be rewarded with Lilith gasping a short, "God Zelda…” and a sudden rush of warmth that spilt across her tongue and down her throat.

And then Lilith was gasping and bowing forward, allowing Zelda to slip out from underneath her as she caught her breath.

Sitting up, Zelda turned on the bed, watching as Lilith looked over her shoulder and glared at her, “Might be something you need to work up to?” she mocked. “You are mine, Zelda Spellman and you’re going to regret that.”

“Regret it? You didn’t enjoy it?” Zelda asked, knowing very well that she had. She could taste distinctly how much she enjoyed it, and would very much enjoy causing Lilith to squirt again in her mouth.

Lilith grinned at her, sharp and feral. “Oh I did, and now I know how well you can use that mouth of yours, I’m going to fuck it until I’ve dragged out every missed orgasm from it.”

Zelda shivered, feeling thrill spill down at her. “Well then,” she said, using her thumb to wipe her chin clean. “I’m yours to command.”

Lilith drew in a deep breath and then smiled at her. “Lie down,” she commanded.

Zelda laughed as she obeyed. It was certainly going to be a long evening, but Zelda didn’t care in the least.

She didn’t care if her tongue went numb, or if the muscles in her forearm burned with exhaustion. She would service Lilith until dawn.

It was early in the evening, but as Lilith’s sex returned to her face, Zelda looked up at her and watched as Lilith sighed as Zelda stroked her tongue over her.

“You’ve ruined Christmas for me, I hope you know that,” Lilith said. “I’ll expect this from you every year.”

Every year, Zelda smirked, flicking her tongue. She wanted to retort with something clever, but unfortunately, her mouth was too busy to respond. So instead, she slid her hands up Lilith’s body and pinched at her nipples, just so she could hear her gasp, jerking her hips over her face.

If Zelda was honest with herself. If she indulged deep in her heart, she might even think to herself that she could see one particular image sharper than anything else when she saw the future.

Lilith waltzing with her, dressed in ivory.

But it was too indulgent to consider, so she focused on fucking her instead.

_____________________

[youarejesting]

Femme: 46

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader, GDragon x Bigbang, Erik Nam, Hyuna x Dawn, Black Pink x Female oc, TXT x robot oc, Got7 x Female oc Rating: Mature Length: 3.3k Warnings: impreg kink, preg kink, three some, orgy, scent kink, masturbation, public masturbation? (in a bathroom stall), oral (F & M receiving), orgasm denial, butt plug, vibrating couples cock rings, leisurely blow job, voyeurism , exhibitionism, mishap with water breaking, Yoongi music producer & baby inducer, cock cages, little bit of dirty talk, little bit of Dom/Sub but nothing serious, Jungkook cries but like because he wants to cum. Big dick joon Announcement: WE ARE BACK!!! NEW CHAPTER! Smut Beta: @taetaewonderland​ Beta: I was dumb and posted before it was finished bing read. I am face palming.

Recap: Your Femme Diaries Channel had been such a success you started a reality TV show from home. Yoongi helps Kyungju deal with girl troubles after a girl stole his milk at school. Hoseok takes Huimang to visit his parents which gives you time to yourself. Taking the Van for a drive you get pulled over for speeding when you vomit on the officer’s shoes, you are taken into the police station suspected of being drunk. Namjoon who was at the station working on a case notices you in the cell and comes to your rescue. You find out you are having a girl and Namjoon is excited. Yoongi avoids you not wanting to be the one to induce the labor again, they all place bets on whether he will or not. 

For your honeymoon, Yoongi gets his payback. Kim Mirae is born. Kyungju finishes first grade. The BTS & BigBang families go on tour. Eric and TXT go to university and the GOT7 boys finally are accepted for a Femme. The Frozen Spoon has two stores with more planned. The BlackPink girls got their Degree’s three of them joining the Femme project, one of which found matches immediately, and the fourth applied for their own Femme.

You were sitting on the front porch resting the tour had gone so well you were working on so many little things a Femme diaries book, that could be translated into every language so woman and men from every country had a sort of manual. There was an app where you could access everything and search topics and be lead to your videos or forums if it was topics you hadn’t covered in videos. 

 The boys were working really hard in their jobs Namjoon as his work was case based spent the most time at home beside Yoongi who worked from home and rarely left his studio. 

The boys had grown up a little each nearing their mid thirties as were you and they aged like a fine wine. Seokjin had experimented with different beards over the two years after the tour. 

Kyungju was eight years old and a music producer like his father, he looked so much like him but he smiled more which warmed his father's heart. Jeongsan was now seven years old and was in love with music as well not exactly the producing process but the listening he had a few troubles like issues with certain smells but also auditory trouble he hated when it got quiet. He learnt how to play Basketball from Yoongi and was on a team though his team was yet to play a real match.

Jae hwan and Jae Eun were two rascals, at age four they both got up to mischief and knew how to play their parents like puppets well all of them except Yoongi. He wasn’t fooled by no one. They were surprisingly humble despite the luxury brands their father bought them. They actually preferred the cheaper brands that had their favorite cartoon characters on them much to their fathers dismay. They hated getting their photos taken as they wanted to be like their older brother Kyungju.

Huimang hit three and three quarters running. He was constantly nagging his older brothers and Jae Eun to play with him. He was happy to do anything, listen to music with Kyungju, Basketball with Jeongsan. He liked to play in the backyard with the twins when they would play fair, that is the two were a unit and used it against the others. But he was also happy with his younger sister watching cartoons.

Mirae was three years old just getting out of her terrible twos and a testament to the break you deserved after having six kids. She was a messy child, and loved to dig up the flowers in your garden much to your dismay. She had a love for fruit and when her daddy jimin would dance with her in his arms around the lounge room. There was so much happening you were happy if you didn’t have any more children. 

That was until one day you heard Seokjin confess that he wanted to have a chance to be a dad. He didn’t know you had heard him and you pondered on these thoughts on the back porch in the morning sun. He had been drunk when he spoke these words and you knew he wouldn’t say something like that out of the blue without thinking it over thoroughly. He was getting older and the oldest out of the family dynamic and you frowned.

You would be happy to make his dream come true but this was a family and you thought it would be best to bring it up with everyone to get their opinions. You knew Yoongi was against having any more children he was already run ragged by the half dozen you had already.

You walked across the house passing Namjoon watching his Ryan from the cartoon Kakao with Mirae and Huimang. Kissing each of their heads as you passed frowning when you got to Mirae. “Baby you have Jam in your hair” Namjoon turned and laughed assuring you he would have them bathed and dressed before their day nap. You sighed, everyone was at work but you had asked for the day off as you wanted to process your thoughts.

You reached the in-home studio and rang the small doorbell and the door opened to show a tired Yoongi, he was growing a small amount of stubble on his chin. Which made him look more mature and made you heart swell at the thought of all your years together. 

“Is something wrong, Kitten?” He raised an eyebrow letting you into his studio. Bringing your hand up to his cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips. He hummed his voice seemed impossibly low as if as he aged it got richer. He sat with you on the couch and you bit your lip and sighed.

“I wanted to ask you something?” You said softly running your hand over his chest massaging the muscles across his chest. It was actually a tip you heard from Hoseok, that chest massages were great for proud creatures like cats and the two of you loved to give him these little chest massages because they made him feel at ease.

“Mmm… What do you want to ask?” He hummed, laying his head in your lap letting your hands wander over his clothed chest and work the muscles under your thumbs.

“Seokjin was drunk the other day and he said something that stuck with me”

“What did he say this time?” He opened his eyes checking you weren’t upset by something the eldest had said while in a drunken stupor. “I can hit him for you?”

“No, It wasn’t bad. It is just, he is getting old and he wants what all of you boys got, I am sure Jimin feels the same way. He wants to be a dad” You whispered and felt the tension increase in Yoongi’s chest.

“Tell him he can have Kyungju” Yoongi sighed

“Don’t you dare even joke that you want to give away your son, Yoongi” You breathed and he sighed “You love him so much all of you love your children just as you love the other children. I know you would turn the world upside down for any of those babies”

“But they all are toilet trained now and you want to start again!” he whined

“Look Yoongi, I am not going to do it unless everyone is on board, so I am not telling you we are having another, I am asking you if you will let Jimin and Jin have their own flesh and blood children they will love like you love your son” You sighed “Please just tell me you will  consider this for Jin and Jimin”

“Fine I will think about it” He sighed seemingly softer.” He laid there and hummed “I do miss you all swollen he turned to your stomach which was soft. You were thankful to Jungkook for helping you remove the baby weight but there was a certain softness that wouldn’t go away. 

Yoongi sighed sitting at the dinner table about one week later looking around at the big family he had that made his heart warm and looked at you as you Jeongsan cut his food. “Okay, I think I could be happy with two more” He smiled softly.

“Well why didn’t you say so” Seokjin grinned and placed some of his food from his own plate onto Yoongi’s. Making Yoongi sigh happily, Why had he ever thought to deny this man from having his own child.

Jimin was currently grinning at the two youngest making them giggle as he made funny noises with Jungkook trying to get the two to eat their veggies. Yoongi let his hand fall onto Jimin’s Thigh and gave it a squeeze in approval, Jimin wasn’t phased but seemed content with the physical affection.

You asked each of them individually and they agreed Namjoon seemed the most excited. So leading Seokjin and Jimin to the shower you were ready to break the news to them. As the words escaped your mouth the two started cheering, hugging you with everything they had. They paused looking at one another and Seokjin said “May the best man win”

Jimin who was in front of you pressed you against Seokjin, pushing the two of you backward until his hyung hit the wall. Seokjin pinned between you and the wall and you pinned between Seokjin and Jimin the former groaned, his growing erection pressing against your back.

Nipping at your bottom lip, Jimin’s tongue found its way into your mouth. He pulled away from the kiss to look you in the eye and you noticed the acquiescent look within them. You raised an eyebrow at Jimin wondering why he looked like he was giving Mirae his ice cream when she dropped hers. 

Jimin was selfless and it wasn’t hard to figure out what it meant. Grabbing his face in your hands you kissed him trying to show him how much you loved him. The kiss was wet from the warm water raining over the three of you. Your lips slipped from his and slid down to his jaw along the length of his neck and you kissed his chest over the strong beat of his heart.

Lifting you to wrap your legs around him, Jimin reached behind you to secure Seokjin’s cock in his hand, giving it a few pumps, before positioning his hyung at your entrance.

“There is no competition Hyung. You have waited the longest. I want you to have a baby first” Jimin smiled over your shoulder and lowered you until you were stuffed full. Jimin pressed his smooth chest against yours pressing his lips to Seokjin’s over your shoulder. “I will help you get a baby Hyung”

It wasn't instant. You had spent six months trying before you made an appointment at the fertility clinic and they did a few quick initial tests and the first test was a simple pregnancy test just to check and it came back positive which made your head spin. You made an appointment to follow up and make sure everything was going okay as the time progressed.

You didn’t want to let anyone know just yet as you always wanted to make sure that you had passed the dangerous time frame. So you spent your time relaxing and working, Seokjin was under the impression that in three months you were going to get artificially inseminated but you hadn’t told him that you were already pregnant.

It was the Hotel Christmas party and you all went along and Jimin seemed to notice you switching your alcoholic drinks for water and juice. The way you shifted in your seat rubbing your back and taking slow breaths when they placed a particularly smelly dinner. “Hey Princess can you help me with my jacket there is a thread that is digging into my neck and I want to get some fresh air”

You nodded thankful for his keen eyes, the table turned to see you leave some of them grinning thinking you two had run off to canoodle in the bathroom. The bathroom was a god sent, the clean scent of soap was what you needed to get rid of the rancid fish smell from the dinner. Jimin rubbed your back and grinned at you from the mirror.

“You are pregnant aren’t you princess?” You noticed the strange look in his eyes, his pupils dilated and lips wet from his eager tongue. He shifted on his feet and your eyes fell to the tent in his dress pants. Eyes flickering back to his where he was smirking and he stepped forward, hands slipping around your waist palms sliding affectionately over your soft tummy and up to your currently swollen breasts. “They are tender, aren’t they?”

“Yes” You whined as he massaged and played with them sadistically loving to see you whine and cry out. He didn’t want to hurt you but he liked to push you close to the border of pleasure or pain. He had taken a few steps over the line with your consent and it was some of the best pleasure you had ever experienced. 

He took your hand pulling you into a stall where he closed the toilet seat and sat down lifting your dress over his head. His forehead gently pressed against your stomach, his nose pressed to your heated core. He unfastened his belt and you heard the clatter of the buckle and the pull of the zip and he was busy pumping himself in his hand fiercely, his hot breath hitting your rapidly soaking your panties.

“You are so sexy full of hyungs baby” He breathed, you were holding the walls of the stall, his hand pressed to the small of your back so he could press himself closer to you. You felt the vibrations of his moan through his nose; his mouth fell open as he cried out against you.

He cleaned himself up and gingerly exited from under your dress his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. You grinned kissing him happily.

It seemed Jimin’s pregnancy kink was insatiable. He liked the way your scent changed when you were pregnant. Jungkook also noticed and approached you one afternoon. Between Jimin and Jungkook you were kept busy, truly appreciating when they would do things for you like; massaging your feet or massaging you in general while they helped each other with their own desires.

Hoseok noticed next as usual, Kyungju called you out after him which surprised you but it seemed your son knew your cues of pregnancy as he had watched you with all his younger siblings. “You were given the all clear Seokjin was ready driving you in the van to the fertility clinic nervous, but when you were given the ultrasound and he saw the baby he got quiet”

“You are pregnant” He seemed sad you didn’t understand what the issue was until he asked the doctor.

“Have you done the paternity test with our DNA samples.

“Yes, You are Kim Seokjin, correct?” Seokjin nodded and he smiled “You are the father congratulations”

“When I came in for the initial appointment I was pregnant with a baby and you were the only one I was with, the other boys were abstaining” You breathed as his hand fell on top your belly rubbing the tiny bump. “I wanted to wait until the baby wasn’t in the danger stage. I would have hated telling you and then losing the baby. You would have been so upset my love”

You saw the way his lips were contorting in a weird purse that he did when he was trying to hold back his laughter but as the watery look in his eyes overflowed into a river of tears and he couldn’t hold back the cry as he hugged you telling you he loved you. It was after his five minute break down that he sniffed and playfully asked.

“Am I still handsome when I cry Darling?”

“The most handsome, my love” You chuckled kissing his red tipped nose and he laughed.

You went to see the TXT boy’s they had just finished their degrees and you were going to surprise them at their graduation ceremony. They were all going into their fields together and finally applied for a Femme, After being rejected over five times they were approached by Femme bot, Femme industries was the umbrella company and their bots were to provide companion ship for those who are eligible for a Femme.

The boys were hesitant and decided to wait because they didn’t know how to feel about a robot being their destined partner.

You were four months pregnant and going on tour accompanied by the TXT boys who had worked on their own careers. They had taken courses in university that enhanced the quality of their content on social media platforms. 

You were filming the tour as you were doing a movie about your lives where you recreated some scenes. So here you were in a pod once more on set in a hospital gown. You recreated the scenes and grinned and you then had a replica of your apartment, everyone was trying to recreate the nervousness you had felt when you were all so young. It was cute seeing everyone all dressed in their old style clothes and their hair and beards cut and trimmed until they looked like their old selves and you were given a wig and a little bit of makeup as well. 

Between recreated scenes were scenes from your videos that you had made all those years ago and also some behind the scenes interviews where you all sat on a couch and explained what you had thought and felt at the time. It was absolutely adorable talking about how little and shy they were and hearing them talk about you as well.

It was when everyone was packing up for the night, Taehyung grabbed

your hand and dragged you from the dressing room and through the sets until he arrived at the first set and opened the pod and you threw your head back and laughed realizing what he wanted to do.

He pressed his large palm to your mouth and shushed you. With a growl he commanded you to get into the pod and he climbed in with you. It was tight, there was no room for movement so he was quick to lower you onto his thick dick before laying you against him and closing the lid behind you.

You were laying against him as he kissed you slowly and he was barely able to move his hips pressed against your A-spot. He was able to just gently rub the head of his cock against it repeatedly causing you static-like pleasure to buzz through your tummy and thighs.

He was moaning in your ear about how sexy you were. His hand wedges between you, his thumb rubbing your clit, loving how you twitched and tightened around him. The pod started to get sweaty and you were feeling absolutely euphoric as he stimulated the deepest parts of you.

After some serious grinding deep inside you he came, bursting like a water balloon painting your walls he made you cum hard and you cried out against his chest your orgasm was powerful. 

You were six months now and the filming was over but you were going straight into another tour. You were happy as the tour began. You announced you were pregnant and the older of your children joined you on some of your stages and had a few funny words. Huimang and Jeongsan did a little dance performance and the crowd were cooing at how cute they were. 

By the time you were settled back home after the tour, you were back to managing the Frozen Spoon. Your body remembered pregnancy well as you seemed to have had every symptom in the book. Perhaps you were stronger now with all the work you had been doing over the years with Jungkook.

Because you made it to full term and were now a few days over. That is how they found you dancing in the living room trying to get things moving. “I want this baby to come out, I am hot and my stomach is huge. If it grows anymore I am going to bust at the seems”

“Let’s try Yoongi,” Hoseok grinned, walking you to the in-home studio and they barged in, Hoseok’s hands on your shoulders waddling you through the doorway until you were in the middle of the room. 

“No, No, No!” He said falling out of his chair and backing up on his bottom across the floor until he hit the wall. “Get her out of here, I have precious equipment”

“Come on, Yoongi, I am overdue and I want freedom” You rubbed your belly “I am so fat and I want to have the baby soon and inducing labour is the most painful thing in the world”

“You wouldn’t know you have never been induced” He sighed waving his hands around “Alright back out of the studio slowly and I will help you. Just for god sakes not in here”

You were laying in the huge lounge propped up against Hoseok’s chest and he laughed at Yoongi’s mock reluctance. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Jimin said, licking his lips and taking small steps forward. 

“Sit” Yoongi commanded him and he lowered himself onto his knees, you hummed at the interaction between the two. He looks at you with a sense of hesitancy and leans in to give you a slow kiss. 

You grab him by the hair and tried to coax his confidence out, it eventually works and he is ravishing your mouth. His tongue and teeth abusing your soft petal pink lips. He pulled back and got to work removing you overalls. It seemed you couldn’t stand having anything around your hips or waist so you had practically lived in long baggy overalls for the past month or two. 

Jimin was hard watching Yoongi caress your belly and thighs, they all sat watching anticipating. Hoseok held your hands in his intertwining your fingers and holding them out from your body. 

Taehyung and Jungkook who had been sitting on Seokjin and Namjoon respectively started to squirm in their laps. Grinding their asses against their Hyungs looking for relief. The two older males finding themselves gently caressing their younger counterparts over their pants. 

Jimin turned hearing the tenor moans and cries behind him and the soft sweet sound you were making, he was conflicted of where he should look whilst simultaneously feeling left out. 

He ran around to your other side so he only had to look in one direction to see everyone but that didn’t help him feel untouched. 

Yoongi and Hoseok’s eyes were wandering similarly. They would travel along the expanse of your body then on towards Jimin who was rocking his hips against the air, his pants straining more with each passing second. They would then flicker their gaze to the rest of the maknae line who were turning so soft. Yoongi leaned down between your legs, his eyes connecting to Jimin’s and giving him a gummy grin. He didn’t dare look away from Jimin, Because he knew how much the young man loved his eye contact in the bedroom. Jimin was such a sensual creature he didn’t need to be touched to feel and experience pleasure. Sometimes he got off just by watching.

So Yoongi held his gaze and with every swipe of his tongue Jimin would keen for him and the room would grow heavier with the weight of Jimin’s sexual desires. Hoseok took your joined hands and placed them against Jimin’s crouch causing him to thrust his hips forward into your conjoined hands and let out an aching cry. 

When Jimin looked away and down at his crotch, Yoongi stopped making you whine and Jimin looked up at you to see what he had missed. You were looking down at Yoongi and Jimin’s eyes followed yours until they locked onto Yoongi’s once more and the pale producer got back to work.

You were ready to come but nothing with Yoongi came easy. He kept getting you right to the edge but never letting you over completely. Hoseok had removed Jimin from his pants and was using your tangled hands to provide him with the necessary friction. 

Jungkook was effectively distracted by Namjoon’s big hand wrapped around his cock. A Thick butt plug nestled between his cheeks. “You like this Baby boy? You like it when your hyung takes care of you?” 

“Ah yes” he said, receiving a firm squeeze, his head spinning at the tight feeling. He seemed to realize his mistake “Yes sir”

“Look how much you are leaking, what would everyone say if they knew how much this turned you on?” He said harshly, running the flat of his palm against the head of Jungkook’s penis, the boy cried and squirmed harder against Namjoon’s length.

“You can’t come unless I say you can?” He said and continued pumping him furiously squeezing the head and watching Jungkook press his knees together and cry and shake trying to prevent himself from cumming.

Taehyung was in a whole other level of torture, instead of having to hold back a powerful orgasm he was trying to spur it on. Seokjin was leisurely stroking Taehyung with one hand while his other hand was between their bodies slowly caressing his own cock. Taehyung didn’t care for the older males' delayed gratification methods and was practically rutting in his hand. “Hyung” he moaned desperately.

“No this is about my pregnant wife not you”

“Our pregnant wife” Namjoon corrected. Seokjin rolled his eyes, feeling Taehyung’s hand brush past his trying to touch himself. Using his free hand Seokjin grabbed Taehyung by his hair and pulled his head back to speak directly into his ear. 

“Who is older, me or you?”

“You”

“Who is in charge, me or you?”

“You are in charge you grandpa” Taehyung huffed “I am sick of slow, I didn’t know you had gotten that old that you couldn’t even Jerk me off properly hyung. You should be careful you must be getting frail.”

Seokjin pushed Taehyung over the arm of the chair and pulled his lounge pants down to expose his ass, where he firmly spanked him telling him that he would not be disrespected like that. Taehyung moaned happy he had riled him up expecting him now to try and prove a point and get him off quickly. But the plan backfired. 

“Get on your knees facing me,” Seokjin commanded and he quickly scrambled to the floor, “spread them and put your hands on my thighs.”

Taehyung spread his knees apart feeling the tightness in his muscle that wasn’t particularly flexible.

“Well go ahead” Seokjin lazily looked down at him, Taehyung took the older gentleman’s thick member into his mouth and began bobbing his head furiously hoping to send him over the edge quickly. A firm hand in his hair stopped this quickly and guided him slowly back and forth sliding him across his tongue. Taehyung was leisurely caressing the underside of Seokjin’s Penis with his tongue.

Looking up at him to see his eyes were on you, he was nervous about the idea of the baby coming today. Taehyung relaxed his throat and let the hot appendage in his mouth slide further back until the thick head brushed the walls of his throat where he swallowed a little uncomfortably at the thickness. Seokjin’s hips thrust forward on reflex, making Taehyung moan.

Taehyung continued this slowly, deepthroating Seokjin’s cock until he suddenly spilled his seed into Taehyung’s throat. He pulled back to swallow the sticky substance that had started to gush out of Seokjin but as he pulled back he continued cumming hard in Taehyung’s mouth. Filling it with hot white liquid. When Taehyung looked up he saw Namjoon with his free hand firmly squeezing the back of Seokjin’s neck encouraging him to cum.

Jungkook was begging Namjoon to let him cum, he was sticky and making the most illicit wet sounds in Namjoon’s hand. Namjoon part way through watching Taehyung suck off the oldest in the family, removing himself from his pants he was wearing a cock ring that had his dick looking fierce and deliciously thick. He had taken a matching cock ring from his pocket and placed it around Jungkook’s sensitive cock. Watching him whine as he situated it in place. Namjoon had stopped for about thirty seconds at a time to let Jungkook recollect himself. He didn’t want him to come too soon and end his fun.

Jungkook was not silent at all; he was the loudest in the room, begging and crying in response to Namjoon’s questions and ministrations. Taking the youngest in his hand once more he smirked leaning into his ear. “You think I don’t notice the way you watch me Kookie, the way you blatantly look at my package when you think I am not looking. What do you want to do, huh? You want to sit on my cock? Or perhaps you want to suck it. Do you want me to fill you up, I have been saving it all for you”

“Please I want to cum?” Jungkook cried fat tears falling onto his thighs and Namjoon  sighed carefully removing the butt plug and lifting the boy onto his hard length. Jungkook lowered himself whimpering and clenching around Namjoon’s swollen erection.

Namjoon wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s thin waist and rocked the younger boy against him. The blood that filled Jungkook’s painfully stiff member had it bouncing against his lower stomach 

Namjoon hadn’t told the poor maknae that the cock rings were actually a part of a set designed for couples and had a remote that when you turned the dial they began to vibrate at different settings. So without warning Namjoon turned it on, setting it to a rapid pulse and matching the rhythm with his hips.

Jungkook is no longer coherent, emitting high pitched cries and cumming hard over his chest and thighs, tears pouring down his face as his body writhed in pleasure. Namjoon followed soon after spilling inside the young man.

Yoongi must have taken pity on you letting you come. He watched you hesitantly waiting for your waters to break and when it didn’t he raised an eyebrow. “It seems it didn't work” He smiled his hand reaching out and gently holding your swollen midsection. He felt your stomach muscles tighten under his palm as he caressed the exposed flesh.

You were sure this was a contraction and you knew it took a while between the initial contractions and active labor, something you had learnt from your previous pregnancies and birthing experience. 

What you didn’t expect was for you to cramp up again and a warm sensation between your legs. “Oh my god, her waters actually just broke” Hoseok said excitedly, he was ready to see the new baby.

All other activities ceased and everyone got down to business, who was going to pick the kids up from school, who was going to the hospital. Where the bags are what they needed to pack, thought everything was mostly already packed. Once the plan was complete you and the boys raced around to grab your things. Not before Hoseok grabbed Jimin and Taehyung both who hadn’t had a single orgasm and secured a cock cage to each of them with a grin.

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Switched

2000 Followers request fill

( Jensen, Angst + Fluff; hunter reader who is Dean's girlfriend + Prompt: “This can't be happening")

Summary: Y/N wakes up next to the man she loves, at least she thought so.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader, Dean x Reader (brief), Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki. Other Y/N

Warnings: angst, language, tension, making-out, AU Universes (like the French Mistake), violence, switching places, fluff, implied smut (barely), a slight Sir kink

  Warmth, it’s the first thing you feel when you wake up next to Dean. His arms wrapped around your waist he nuzzles his nose into your neck.

“Dean…” You whimper as he starts nipping at your neck.

“Uh-huh, …you are in this mood today?” Dean says but something isn’t right with his voice. It’s not as deep as usual.

“Baby are you sick? Your voice sounds odd.” You stammer.

“No…I’m fine…but you need ‘the Dean’ this morning.” He says and his voice is back to normal.

Turning around in his embrace you look up at him and your hand slides over his cheek and you wonder again.

Since when is his skin so soft?

He almost looks like he’s wearing make-up but then his lips press against yours and you open your mouth to let him slide his tongue inside.

His cock stirs in his pants as you grind against him. You never were that forward, that open in the bedroom before.

“Fuck…so hot…” Dean groans as you flip him onto his back.

Your hands slide over his chest and you want to kiss him but then your eyes land on his tattoo or rather the place where it should be.

“Where is your tattoo, Dean? You ask looking around the foreign room.

“Baby, we should stop playing ‘make me the Dean’. Can’t we just be Y/N and Jensen?” He asks and you freeze.

“Who is Jensen and why am I wearing a wedding band? Oh, god…did we get drunk and married. Is this a joke of you and Sammy again?” You ask and the man underneath you doesn’t seem to understand.

“Y/N? Are you alright? Did you hit your head? I mean last night you were alright. What’s this obsession with the show out of the blue?”

“Show?”

“Supernatural, Baby. Did you forget about my role too?”

“Oh, god…you are Jensen Ackles…” You gasp.

“Last time I checked my ID card I was…” Jensen stammers looking at you.

“This can’t be happening…not again.” You curse.

“What’s wrong, Baby? Shall I call Gen and Jared?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong. I went to sleep in the bunker next to Dean and now I’m here once again. Did you do this? I mean was last time not enough. We already fucked last time…oh…shit…”

“Baby?”

“I can’t explain…you don’t remember…don’t you?”

“Uh…you mean the odd dream where you were the role you are playing. That was years ago and you remember? I mean we weren’t a pair back then and you told me you are not my Y/N. After you found no way ‘back home’ we had the hottest sex ever…damn all the things you did to me…”

“Don’t remind me! I couldn’t look Dean in the eyes for weeks and then we did it too…” You mutter climbing off Jensen’s lap.

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous, Baby.”

“I’m not your Baby, Jensen…okay. Some angel dick or someone else must’ve switched me and your Y/N once again. She better not touches my Dean.” You curse pacing around the room.

“You are serious…damn…I’ll call, Jared and Gen.”

----

“Just relax, Y/N. I know you are confused but this is Sam, that’s Cas and I’m Dean. I guess we all know by now you are not my Y/N…once again. This can’t be happening, Cas…” Dean says looking at the foreign Y/N in his bed. She looks exactly like you but at the same time completely different.

“Damn, who is behind this?” Sam curses handling the Y/N in Dean’s bed a flannel.

“Got no clue. We had no trouble with angels lately and I don’t think Castiel sent us into an alternative universe. Means only Y/N got switched once again. That Jensen asshole better does not touch her again!” Dean yells and the woman in his bed flinches.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Jay. This is not funny! Jared, tell him to stop this nonsense! Misha almost got killed last time you two did this!” She yells now.

“Lady calm down. You are not my Y/N, and I’m not Jensen Ackles, okay. I’m Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam and Castiel, the angel. I know our life is a show in your world but here…” Pointing around the bunker Dean locks eyes with the foreign Y/N. “…here all the shit is real. So, sit over there, drink your coffee and we are going to switch you back.”

“How?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know, dude! I want my girl back!” Dean curses while Castiel tries to remain calm. He’s got no clue how to get you back.

----

“She said she’s Y/N from the show…like last time?” Jared asks glancing over to you pacing around the room.

“Yeah…I mean she acts like back then…in bed too…if you know what I mean.”

“Damn…what now? Shall we call a doctor?”

“No, dude! What if…I mean…everyone told us we were on set back then but we weren’t. Even Genevieve told us I called her the ‘fake Ruby’. What if this is not a joke or something my wife imagines, Jare?”

“Are you nuts?” Jared whispers.

“No…I mean…what if?”

“Seriously? You are talking about different universes now? Did you play Dean for too long?”

“Jared. Yesterday my wife went to bed like always and this morning she is different and I like it. Damn my cock never was that hard…believe me, if she wouldn’t have tried to break my arm after I tried to kiss her I would bend her over the bed and fuck her right now.” Jensen groans licking his lips.

“Guys? Shall I talk to her?” Gen asks entering the room.

“You brought Ruby here? How did you bring her back? That bitch is dead for almost ten years by now!”

“Y/N?” Gen gasps and you can see the hurting all over her face.

“Sorry…I was trying to get into my role. Thought it would be funny to trick all of you for a while.” You lie.

“Damn…Baby! You scared the shit out of me.” Jensen pants moving his arms around you while pressing his hard cock against your leg.

“Tell your friends to go home and we can finish what we started.” You whisper and his cock twitches.

“Fuck…yeah…”

----

“Did you meet someone strange? Maybe you touched something in a store or at the flea market yesterday.” Sam says.

“Uh…no. I mean I was bored and looked around on my own. Y/N got pissed and said that sometimes she wished I would be more attentively or more interested in things she likes.” Dean stammers remembering your sad face. “I told her to find someone new... then we went to bed…angry…for the first time in over 8 years, Sammy. What if I do not get her back?”

“Did you touch something or Y/N?”

“A mirror. She liked it and bought it. It’s in our room.” Dean says and Sam nods at Castiel.

“We will get her back, Dean. Now let Castiel and me check the mirror and if it’s an artifact. I called Rowena too. Maybe she can help.”

“Okay…” Dean whispers glancing at the foreign Y/N on his bed. He can see the fear all over her face and wishes he could take it away…

----

“What happened last night?” You ask sliding your hands over Jensen’s chest as you straddle his lap.

“You don’t remember?” Jensen asks cocking a brow.

“Not really…”

“Well, we had a fight, a terrible fight. You wanted to buy something in that antique store, a mirror and I didn’t listen. I was too busy talking to Misha on my phone.”

“Mirror? Did we buy it?”

“Yeah…it’s in the bathroom. Can we go back to what we did before we got distracted? I’m painfully hard, Baby.” Jensen groans and you almost feel pity for him.

“Hmm…wait…” Showing mercy you cup his face to kiss him softly. It feels wrong, he looks so much like Dean, but it’s not him but you need to distract him to…well use the handcuffs you found in his nightstand.

“Baby? Fuck…you want to play? Never thought you would be doing this again with me…” Jensen groans and you shrug.

“Sorry, Jay but I will not cheat on Dean. Your wife will be back soon, just tell her you want to try new things. I bet she likes it…try to call her good girl and let her call you Sir or spank her ass playfully. I’m into hair pulling too. If she’s only a bit like me, she will come like never before…” You chuckle walking into the bathroom to check the mirror.

----

“Okay…Rowena said both Y/N’s need to touch the mirror at the same time.” Sam explains and Dean rolls his eyes.

“How shall we know my girl is touching the mirror right now?” Dean mutters.

“We have to let this Y/N touch it the whole time. Also, she needs to wish to be back to her world…her life, back at the side of the man she loves.” Castiel says and Dean falls silent.

“What if she doesn’t want to come back? What if he’s giving her something I can’t give her?”

“Dean…let’s do this. Y/N loves you, you know that.”

“Lady…uh…Y/N. Can you…”

“I’ve got this. I might not be your Y/N but I play her long enough to understand what it takes to bring me back. If your Y/N only loves you half as much as I love Jensen she wants to come back for sure.” Jensen’s Y/N says.

“Good. Touch the mirror. Focus on Jensen, your life and the love you feel for him. Just let your love flow.” Sam says and Jensen’s Y/N touches the mirror.

----

Your hands are shaking, and you pray this will work. If the other version of you touched the mirror at the same time it could’ve happened you got switched.

Placing one hand onto the mirror you close your eyes. Remembering all the good times with Dean, the love you feel and the warmth when he holds you tight you let your love flow and the mirror starts glowing.

Opening your eyes, you see yourself in the mirror for a second before you disappear.

“Y/N, are you alright? I can’t get up…are you hurt?” Jensen screams but then he sees his wife walking out of the bathroom.

She has a smile on her lips but then her eyes darken at the sight of her husband tied to the bed.

“Hmm…Jay. Do you want to play Baby? Shall your wife help you out? Look at you…so hard for me.” She swoons and Jensen licks his lips.

“Please…my good girl.” He groans and his wife’s smile grows.

“Yes…Sir…” She whispers.

----

“Y/N? Y/N?” Dean stammers as you fall to the ground. With shaking hands he picks you up to check on you.

“Dean? Shirt off!” You order and he looks at you in confusion.

“Baby?”

“I said shirt off!”

“Fine…” Removing his shirt Dean watches your getting up from the bed to slide your hands over his chest. The tattoo is back at his place and when you touch his cheeks they are scruffy as you like it.

“My Dean…you’re mine. Thank god. His face felt like the butt of a baby.” You chuckle jumping into his arms. “I’m sorry about the fight. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart…wait…you touched his face?”

“Don’t get jealous. He didn’t get any…just handcuffed him to the bed…”

“Damn…uh…”

“Hmm…did you just get hard, Dean? Does my bad boy need some playtime with his good girl?” You ask and Sam awkwardly leaves the room with Castiel hot on his heels.

“Yeah…missed you. She wasn’t you…”

“He wasn’t you either. Love you…”

“Love you too, Y/N…now back to the handcuffs…”

Forever Tags

@donnaintx​, @screechingartisancashbailiff​, @fallen-wolf22​, @sister-winchesters99​, @mogaruke​, @the-is13​, @helloitsmeamie203​, @strayrosesbloom​, @thewinchesterco​, @hobby27​, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl​, @marvelfansworld​ , @sandlee44​, @hawaiianohana31​, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt​, @katpatrova17​, @notyourtypicalrose​ , @heyitscam99​, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon​, @flamencodiva​, @echoesofpassion​, @cocklesbelli​, @anushay1998, @voltage-my2dlove​, @kmvld, @fandom-princess-forevermore​, @thenamelesschibi​, @lauravic​, @fandomsrourlives​, @wittysunflower​, @drakelover78​, @lemondropirwin​, @lonewolf471​, @wronglanemendes​, @electraphygelectraphyng , @spnhollis​, @void-imaginations​, @jay-and-dean​, @shatteredabby​ , @juniorhuntersam​​​, @helpmeluci​​​, @neii3n​​, @goodgodimaweirdperson​​, @alltimesamantha, @chonisberonica, @supernaturalonice @stuckys-whore​, @shadowkat-83, @meganywinchester​, @shikshinkwon​, @idioticsky, @miraclesoflove ​ (all works), @officialmarvelwhore, ​@certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel, @guardian-tn

If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry.

 Dean/Jensen Forever Tags         

@spnfamily-thewinchesters, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @deans-baby-momma, @hawaiianohana31, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​, @20gayneen​, @janicho88​, @thefaithfulwriter​, @dreaminemz​, @negans-lucille-tblr​, @sadwaywardkid​, @akshi8278​, @hhiggs​, @midnightsilver16830​, @mrspeacem1nusone​, @ria132love​, @caligraphee​, @the-witch-in-silence​, @multisuperfandom

[kvngjoong]

jongho + nsfw a-z

finally finished with ateez’ vers of this! if you enjoyed and want to see another group, let me know (+who to start with!). i really enjoyed it and finished with the lesser known kinky bitch. stan jongho, king of vocals

A: Aftercare 

jongho if a soft baby but he has no idea what he is doing. he will kinda be unsure whether he’s supposed to do anything, like he’s heard of aftercare but damn he don’t know what that entails. he’ll just kind of.. be there for you. he’ll respond to your own actions and as he becomes more comfortable, he’ll know your needs and wants, and can act on those too

B: Body part 

he low key loves his thighs, since he developed a habit of putting you on them since accidentally having you ride his thigh once. he didn’t know thigh riding was a thing, so when you started getting off by grinding on his thigh he was a bit confused, but all for it when you have your head on his shoulder and you’re falling apart from him literally just flexing. he also likes your hands cause they’re skilled

C: Cum 

whilst he usually keeps it a little tidy, jongho likes cumming in your mouth or on your face. he likes how it looks, especially when your make up is smudged and your cum is over it too. he’s not sure where that comes from but it’s always been that way

D: Dirty Secret 

one time, jongho bought these zappers as a joke. he said to you he wanted to attach them to ur nips - which he did, and although it took some experimenting to actually get them to the right level not to actually hurt you, you had some fun with them and jongho was happy with his purchase that took top level mastery to hide from everyone else. what he didn’t tell you was that when you were out one time, he decided to try them out on himself. it left him a bit sore afterwards, and a bit tingly too, but he enjoyed it more than he would ever be happy to tell anyone 

E: Experience 

not very much. that’s why he gets excited so much and is easier to please. whether you’re his first is debatable, but he probably wouldn’t say anything to you anyway if you were

F: Favourite Position 

it just seems to be that jongho and you won’t have sex that much. jongho likes new things, he really wouldn’t like it if you just had sex and that means that more often than not you guys are cumming multiple times from something other than sex. so on the chance that you guys are actually having sex, he likes reverse cowgirl cause he can see your ass. not many men are that easy to please and he takes pride in being an ass kinda guy

G: Goofy 

he’s not really goofy during anything nsfw, because he’s caught up in the moment and it would be a bit weird if you both started joking about something (for him, anyway). plus you’re gonna be too busy to be thinking about anything other than jongho - don’t play yourself

H: Hair 

he probably shaves, keeps it tidy and clean most times and doesn’t often slack unless he’s busy doing something else

I: Intimacy 

the longer you are into your relationship, the more intimate he is - though that applies to everything. he obviously cares about you, and he loves you, but he’s a bit shy when it comes to showing any intimacy in general. so yeah. give it a year or two and he’ll be showing the intimacy more often

J: Jack Off

for him, it’s a normal amount that he jacks off since you don’t have any rules between you and he probably accidentally pops a boner over you more than he would like to admit (or he just gets one, you know). he would prefer if you were there to take care of him, or at least watch him (does he like it when you sit on your knees in front of him and just watch him jack off? kinda)

K: Kink

jongho’s not a vanilla kinda guy, but he isn’t there for anything extravagant, and he’s not a true dom or sub at heart, he’s into his own things that don’t involve anything like that. he will, if you are into it, probably be a switch with slightly submissive tendencies. aside from that, he’s really into giving and receiving body worship, any time you gag around him he cums, he likes it when your make up gets smudged cause he fucked your face, and he is kinda really into you wearing special (not necessarily sexual) outfits, like a cute corset. visuals are big for him

L: Location 

as long as it’s your/his home, he’s fine. there has to be some kind of cover and privacy for him. it also means that he can cuddle you easy afterwards. he has a heart of gold, swear

M: Motivation 

since visuals are a big thing for him, jongho usually likes seeing you in certain things. he also tries memories to clothes. so, if you’re wearing a top that you did two weeks ago when you gave him the suck of his life, he’s not gonna get rid of the thought in his head. you know clothes you can buy in underwear stores (ie bodies n stuff), if he sees you in one of them then you best best he’s gonna be tugging at your hand asking you if you can leave early

N: NO 

jongho might be more submissive than dominant, but he’s really not into the whole proper dom/sub thing. he would really dislike if you tried to get him to properly sub, and likewise if you were attempting to make yourself a true dominant or even get him to do it. he doesn’t like the traditional roles - topping is fine, but don’t be telling him he can’t cum and that you’ll punish him

O: Oral

he enjoys receiving more than giving (see below) but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like giving. he’s just a bit shy when it comes to it because he doesn’t really know what he’s doing and he doesn't want to disappoint (though never actually tells you this). so he’ll make an attempt, and he’s probably better with his fingers than his mouth, but it’s still enjoyable. you’ll be sucking him off more though, sorry

P: Pace 

quick and intense; jongho might be prone to getting a touch bored if it’s too slow, and usually he would be the one who is telling you to speed up 

Q: Quickie 

nah, it’s not the way he works and although he can try, he’s not into it. unless you suck him off quickly before he has something to do, or jack him off cause he asked for your help, it’s gonna be a longer session

R: Risk

it’s a big yes to taking risks as in trying new things he/you may not like, but anything involving someone walking in on you is not something he’s into. that is, however, not the case when it involves someone who has a crush on you, then he may be trying to get you to let him finger you under the table in front of them just to annoy them

S: Stamina 

although he can go for a while, i think it won’t be as much as some of the other members purely because he cums easier and he can switch out of the nsfw mindset quickest too. it gets a bit awkward for him, so yeah - he won’t go on for too long

T: Toy 

he likes more niche things. the zappers, the clamps, the blindfolds; jongho is an accidental freak when it comes to this stuff because he sees something and thinks about it for a bit too long. he usually invests in them, and they’re always something you weren’t expecting (ie ‘hey jongho what’s that?’ ‘nothing much just a pinwheel’)

U: Unfair

he’s not a tease unless you’re sucking him off, and even then he’s not really teasing you but something says he knows exactly what to say and when to say it. so even if he doesn’t realise, when he’s holding your jaw and telling you how good you’re being (damn it comes so naturally to him i--), that may just count as him teasing. and he likes putting you on his thigh and flexing. animal

V: Volume 

on the louder side, since he likes to express himself vocally. you should encourage him to, too, his voice is so beautiful and everyone should hear it. he may be a bit shy to at first but it won’t take much to have him whining and moaning cause he feels good. doesn’t really grunt though, or groan. he talks, a lot

W: Wild Card

i said that he’s not very intimate but he does care about you, and it is kinda obviously. mostly when you’re sucking his dick. he likes it when you are clearly struggling to take him all in your mouth but you do anyway. he’ll stroke your hair back and tell you how good you’re doing. if your eyes start to water he’ll stroke away your tears and tell you how pretty he thinks you are. at some point he’ll have his fingers through your hair and he’ll fuck your face pretty good, and when you start to gag he will cum

X: X-Ray

jongho is a big boy (◠﹏◠✿) i will leave the rest to you

Y: Yearning 

though he probably could wait a little longer for you, he doesn’t want to. he’s annoying as a boyfriend anyway, always texting you and asking you for pictures (usually of a more sexual kind, not that he will admit to anyone) etc, so he may seem like he yearns a lot for you. he’s just excited though, and he wants to see you whenever he can. so he’s needy, in every aspect, but keeps that on the down-low

Z: ZZZ

jongho isn’t impartial to sleeping after any activity between the two of you. he’ll usually end up cuddling you, looking at instagram together or watching a video. usually falls asleep after about twenty minutes with his head pressed against your shoulder, then wakes up ten minutes later disorientated, though you shush him back to sleep on your shoulder and continue doing whatever you were doing

a/n sorry if the editing is weird, idk if anyone else is getting this but copying from word is pasting as a picture?? so i had to just copy from google docs so it doesn’t clear any implemented formatting. idk

[lunarliza]

JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 5: Hair Dyes

fuckboy!JJ x Reader

series masterlist | prev. chapter | chapter one

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

note: sexual-like content ahead. also pls keep in mind that this is just a playful haha funny story, this stuff isn’t meant to be taken seriously at all 

“So are you a virgin?” 

You scowled at the phone perched on your nightstand. 

“No,” you lied, continuing to paint your big toe. 

Oddly enough, after the whole nature-calling theatre debacle, JJ not only apologized profusely when the movie ended, but he actually pursued you even harder the week following. The universe really did work in mysterious ways.

He quadruple texted you during the day, sent you funny pictures of him lallygagging around the town with The Pogues, and called you every night until you both fell asleep. 

At first you found it clingy as hell, but seeing JJ in the girl-filter or watching videos of him pranking John B sleeping had you entertained enough to actually respond. 

Tonight’s phone topic was 21 Questions, and like the fuck boy he was, ‘what’s your favorite color’ turned dirty in a matter of minutes. 

“What’s your body count?” you asked, actually curious about what that figure might be. 

“Hm,” you could hear him smacking his lips, “To be honest, I don’t really know.”  

“Are you serious?” 

“Well,” he spluttered through the line, “I stopped keeping count after like 30. If I had to give a range it’d probably be from 50 to 70.” 

Your nose crinkled. “Charming.” 

Just then, you heard your mom’s voice echo from the front door, “Y/n! Package came in for you!” 

“One sec,” you told the blondie on the phone and waddled down the hall on your heels, careful of your wet toes. 

Ripping open the box, you gasped at the rows of assorted lacy thongs Annalise ordered yesterday to be sent to your house. You forgot rich people could afford express shipping. 

“Everything good?” JJ questioned through the line. 

“Yeah, uh, just a little shocked at how big the, uh, water bottle I ordered is.”

Your hand clawed through the stash, feeling how nice the silk and lace felt. No surprise, it was also a very expensive brand. You considered keeping a few for yourself. 

“Hm, interesting,” JJ responded, “Anyways, continuing our game, do you have any kinks, like in bed?” 

You held up a red g-string, inspecting the tiny bows lining the crotch area. “Yeah, I have a few.” 

------------------------------- On your next day off, JJ invited you to go fishing with him and his friends. He picked you up early to grab some equipment from the store. Afterwards, you both sprawled on his bed, waiting for the others to arrive. 

“Hey JJ?” you asked, hand tangled in his gold locks while he played some game on his phone. 

“Hm?” 

“So do you remember the other night when we talked about our kinks?” you asked as seductively as your inexperienced self could. 

He immediately halted his game, a sly smirk danced its way across his lips. “Yeah...” 

“Well,” you bit your lip, “I do have this one that just really turns me on.” 

“I’m listening,” he piped, running a hand up and down your thigh. 

You put on your best amateur sex-minx face, blinking up at him. “It’s a little weird though.” 

He shifted positions so he laid between your thighs, kissing up your exposed stomach from your crop-top. “I don’t care. If it gets you wet baby, I’m all for it.” 

“Okay then... I actually have a present for you.” 

Sliding out from under him, you scrambled through your bag and pulled out the red g-string. JJ whistled from his bed in response, leaning back on his arms at the edge.

“That’s sexy as fuck,” he dragged you closer by the back of your thighs, “Try it on for me real quick, before the rest of the Pogues get here.” 

“Oh no no no,” you hung the underwear out to him, “It’s for you.” 

JJ’s mouth went agape, his eyes nearly exploding. “What the fuck y/n?! Are you kidding me?” 

You pouted and sulked away with a huff. “I knew it! I knew you’d make fun of me! I thought I could trust you JJ!” You covered your face and wailed like a child who couldn’t get her way. If this wasn’t your Oscar-winning moment you didn’t know what was. 

“Hey, hey, hey, wait,” JJ cooed, stroking his hand up your shoulders behind you. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t making fun of you, I was just a little shocked that’s all.” 

“But you think it’s weird!” you cried out, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“Well,” he scratched the back of his head, “I mean... you really want me to wear it?” 

You sniffled and nodded. 

“And this turns you on?” 

You nodded again, facing him. “I just, I think it’s so sexy when a man can embrace his sexuality like this you know?” 

“I guess... do you just want me to try it on?” 

“That’d be nice,” you rubbed the side of your arm, “Maybe you could even wear it today when we go out? It’ll be under your shorts so no one will see.” 

“Are you kidding me? N-” 

Your puppy-dog eyes stopped him dead in his tracks, threatening to burst into tears again. Boy, was this guy putty in your hands. 

He sighed, swiping the underwear from your hand. “Fine, but we do not mention this to any of my friends, got it?” 

You quickly shook your head with an excited smile, knowing damn well the thong was high-cut.

Minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, giving you a little show of his new undergarments. You had to admit, under all those baggy shorts laid a nice pair of perky buns. The sight of him trying to body roll on the floor made you fall back cackling at his Magic Mike attempts. 

Annalise definitely should’ve ordered a size up because his rising bulge was stretching out the lace that was clinging on for dear life. You had to shield your beet-red face. 

The ring of the doorbell sent JJ scurrying to find his pants while you walked to the front to answer it. In came his friends- John B, Kiara, and Pope- who you greeted just as the blonde sauntered out of his room as if nothing was fishy was going on. 

“So, who’s ready to hit the water?” John B asked as the guys gathered up the fishing equipment. 

You followed the herd out to the docks where the famous HMS Pogue sat. JJ walked a little ahead of you and Kiara, casually picking at the wedgie through his shorts. Kiara scrunched her nose in disgust while you snorted and had to bite your lip from bursting out laughing.

Riding along the marsh, you chatted with Kiara on the back deck while the boys casted the net at the front. She raved all about the new tarot deck she bought and even practiced some palm readings on you. You didn’t know her very well, seeing as she attended the Kook school, but you were glad she was easy to get along with. 

“So what’s the deal with you and JJ?” she asked out of nowhere. From the corner of your eye, you could see Pope do a discreet double-take at her question.

“Um, I’m not really sure,” you answered, “We’re just hanging out, I guess.” 

“Well, you’re the first girl he’s ever brought to hang out with us,” she revealed, “Or even really hung out with in general, for that matter.” 

A sharp gasp from the boys snapped you both out of your conversation. There, at the tip of the boat, was JJ bending over the net with the prominent lacy bows of his g-string exhibited for the world to see. 

John B and Pope doubled over cackling like a pack of hyenas. “JJ what the actual fuck!” 

The blonde whipped upright instantly once he caught on, hand flying to cover his backside. His entire face went the brightest shade of red. “Shut the fuck up! Or I’ll kill you both!” 

Pope fell to the wooden floor of the deck, trying to regain his breath from the laughter as John B doubled over on top of him. 

“Stop it you guys!” Kiara scolded at the boys who were practically in tears. She had to hold back a few giggles herself. “If JJ wants to wear that then let him! I think it’s,” she accidentally snorted, “I think it’s cool!” 

JJ fastened his shorts and began play-fighting the hyenas. Meanwhile you filled your girls chat in on the hilarious scene, trying to muffle your own snickering. 

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

“You want to be a what when you grow up?” 

“A hairstylist,” you repeated through the phone. You hoped the pitch change in your voice wasn’t too much to give yourself away. Nevermind the fact that you knew nothing about hair as yours was always wet from surfing. 

“Uh okay,” JJ responded, “That was kinda unexpected but you do you I guess.”  

You slouched on the old-fashioned armchair in Annalise’s condo while your friends gathered around to listen in on yours and JJ’s call. A fit of snickers and shushes flew through the room as they tried to suppress their noise. 

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to practice on people for a while now. I need to have experience to get into this beauty school I’ve been looking at,” you went on, “Do you think I could try something on you tomorrow?” 

You heard him scratch through the line. “Uh, why me? You don’t have any other friends that you could do it on?” 

“Because JJ! You’re like the only blonde I know. And I really want to perfect my bleaching skills. C’mon please! It’ll only be like a shade lighter. You’ll hardly even notice,” you promised in your well-rehearsed begging voice. 

“I’m not sure about this one, Y/n. It seems a little risky. Pope and John B are still ragging me for the underwear.” 

“Hmph,” you took the phone and held it closer to you, “Come onnnn JJ! I swear it’ll be fine. Please just do me this teensy little thing. I might even return the favor.” Your voice sang at the last bit.

He hiked in a long breath. “F-Fine. Just promise me it won’t be noticeable!” 

“Promise!” you cheered as the quad around you erupted in their silent happy dances. “Okay I’m going to go now, see you tomorrow before Sarah’s birthday Loverboy!” You sent him air kisses through the phone and hung up. 

“Men are so easy!” Sophia drawled, taking a huge bite of her ice cream pint. 

“You’re getting so good at this y/n!” Arabella pretend to wipe away tears, “I’m such a proud mama!” 

Maia whisked into her room and popped out seconds later, handing you a bottle of squeeze hair dye. “Here it is. Use it wisely young grasshopper.” 

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

You showed up to JJ’s house the next day. Thankfully, his dad was out a work so you had the entire house to yourself. Lord knows you needed it with the mild trauma you were about to put this boy through. 

You had JJ sit in the bathroom, away from the mirror with his head leaned back and eyes closed. Clumsily, you applied the dye like the Youtube video you watched the night before. Needless to say, you were getting it everywhere- on your clothes, JJ’s clothes, the counters. 

It was a disaster. But you played it cool, reminding JJ to keep his eyes shut or the dye will burn them. After wrapping his head in foil sheets and waiting 20 minutes, you bent him over the shower and washed everything out. 

Drying his still covered hair in the towel, you yanked it off him as he turned to the mirror and let out a deafening, ear-splitting shriek. 

“WHAT THE FUCK! OH MY GOD!” 

JJ looked like he was about to cry, horror-stricken, at his bright new bubblegum pink hair. 

“What the fuck is this?! What am I going to do?!” he paced back and forth in the clustered bathroom, “Sarah’s surprise party is tonight! John B’s gonna kill me if I don’t go! People can’t see me like this!” 

You bit your finger, glancing off to the side. “It was a mistake! I’m so sorry! It was supposed to be ash blonde but I might’ve gotten strawberry blonde instead.” 

JJ grabbed your shoulders, desperation drowning his eyes. “You have to fix this right now y/n! We have to be at the beach in an hour!” 

“You can’t bleach it again right now,” you protested, “You’ll fry your hair and then it’ll look like a bird’s nest!” 

“Then what are we going to do?! I can’t go outside like this!” 

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

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” 

Throwing your head back, you finished the remains of the beer and tossed the cup into a nearby bin. The small crowd yelped as you threw your hands up. 

JJ crept up behind you and lifted you in the air, spinning you around. “Fuck yeah y/n!” 

You patted on the backwards cap on his head and he let you back down, pecking your cheek. 

Minutes before you guys arrived, he was able to rummage through is drawers for a hat big enough to stuff his Strawberry Shortcake hair into. Some specks still peeked out underneath, but, in the dark, you couldn’t really tell the island’s golden boy was now a pink poodle. 

The birthday girl, Sarah Cameron, skipped over to the group around you and thanked everyone for coming. She had her fingers linked with her new boo and party organizer, John B, as she hugged all her friends. 

You met her briefly after the big ‘surprise’ chant when she first arrived. When she referred to you as ‘JJ’s girl’ in front of everyone, you blushed and ignored her comment even though her and basically all the girls there were wondering the same thing. 

If only they knew. 

In your peripheral, you spotted your sabotage squad casually stroll into the beach and blend in with the pack of dancing kids. It was time to initiate Plan D. 

As the party progressed, you clung onto JJ side due to the fact that you hardly knew anyone there. You sat in his lap during a few drinking games and he even held you up while you did a keg stand. 

You were both dancing tipsy for a bit near the bonfire. His hands roamed your body while you pressed your ass to his crotch. You giggled when he bent over and kissed up your neck. 

“It’s getting kind of crowded now,” you mentioned at the growing swarm of people. Word probably got out about the party which definitely drew the hordes of tourists that were arriving by the dozen. JJ hummed against your skin. 

“We could get out of here for a bit,” you suggested, “Maybe go for a little dip in the water?” 

You felt his ears perk. He eyed you questioningly while you sauntered away from him and the throng of people, motioning for him to follow.

And he did. Just like a lost puppy. 

Both of you moved to a secluded section of the beach. The waves were calmer, and the music from the party muffled against the sound of the water crashing. 

“What is your cute little ass up to now,” JJ teased as you peeled off your top to set on a rock, revealing a sexy push-up black bikini. Again, one of Maia’s. 

“Come on! Let’s swim for a bit,” you coaxed, slipping out of your shorts. He grinned when you backed towards the water.

Here goes nothing. 

Sultrily, you undid the back string of your bathing suit and flung it onto the sand. JJ’s lips parted slightly. You swore his spirit left his body for a moment. 

You bit your lip. Still locking eye contact, you discarded your bottoms next. 

Twirling your nude body around, ass in full view, you cocked your head back at the awestruck teenage boy. “What? Cat’s got your tongue? Are you gonna come in or just stand there?” 

You’d never seen anyone undress at the speed JJ did, sans hat and everything. “Oh my God!” you squealed at the sight of him stepping out of the pink thong you gave him, “I can’t believe you wear those still!” 

He darted towards you and the ocean, the smile on his face stretched all the way to his sculpted cheek bones. “Hey, you like them and they make my ass look good. It’s a win-win for everyone!”

You also couldn’t help but notice his, uh, junk that was swinging while he ran with you. One peep at it and everything clicked in your head as to why women were obsessed with him. It was a very pleasing sight. 

Knees deep in the water, his hands drew up your sides. He ogled at your bare body, radiated by nothing but the moon, and you shifted a bit to make sure his back was fully facing the shore. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he rasped, resting his hands just atop the swell of your butt. “Fuck,” he purred, “C’mere.” 

Bending down, he crashed his lips onto yours, stroking up and down your backside. With one eye open, you peeked towards the rocks where two dark shadows hunched over and scurried away swiftly. 

Turning your attention back to the kiss, you briskly pulled away and splashed him before he could react. 

“Oh you wanna play huh?” he taunted and lunged at you while you playfully shrieked. 

You giggled as he picked you up, hand under your neck and knees, spinning you around a few times before dropping you at a slightly deeper end. You floated back up and splashed at him again with all your might. 

JJ swam towards you and wrapped your legs around his waist under the water, only your heads above the water at this point. “You’re so fun,” he gushed, kissing you again, a little more forcefully this time. 

You two stayed that way for a bit until you heard the kids from the party faintly singing ‘Happy Birthday’. 

“Fuck!” you shouted before scrambling out the water with JJ on your trail. You were able to pick up your bikini from the sand and pull it on. But once you got back to the rock, the only thing left was a single pink thong. 

“Where the fuck did our clothes go?!” JJ hollered, outraged. 

“Oh my God!” you joined, “Maybe some raccoons took them!” 

Not even bothering with your preposterous presumption, he held his hands up to his head in stress. “What the fuck am I gonna do? I have to go back through the party to even get to the car! And I have fucking pink hair!” 

“Uhh, maybe you could swim through the water past them? I could meet you on the other side with a towel.” 

“Okay okay! Just hurry!” he urged, hurrying back into the water in just the skimpy underwear. 

You jogged back to the party that died down by quite a bit. Only close friends remained. 

“Where’s JJ?” Pope asked as you surveyed the area, “He missed the whole cake. We were looking for a lighter for ages.” 

You merely shrugged. “Not sure, maybe he left for a bit?” 

Pope glanced around, confused until a voice- Sophia’s voice- shrieked from the sides. “Oh my gosh is that JJ?!”

A few gasps emitted from the crowd as Arabella and Annalise shone their flashlights at the bubblegum head perched on top of the water. 

“JJ what the fuck are you doing?!” John B yelled, “And why the fuck is your hair pink?!”

JJ looked as if he’d seen a ghost. He laughed sheepishly, “Yeah about that I-” 

Before he could finish, the tide pulled out to reveal the fuchsia g-string on his hips. John B face palmed himself and shielded Sarah’s eyes from the indecent scene. 

The party exploded in laughter, Pope and Kiara fell to their knees on the sand, joining the mass.

Middle fingers in the air, JJ dashed through the roaring flock and to the car. “Fuck you all! But happy birthday Sarah!” 

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

note: hehehehhe. okay i had fun writing dis. pls msg me to be tagged!! 

chapter six

tags: @obxlife​​ @rudyypankow​​ @yeehaw87​​ @ilymarkchan​​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​​ @tangledinsparkles​​ @toloveortobeinlove​​ @pixelated-pogues​​ @normatural​​ @teamnick​​ @drizzlethatfalls​​ @hazelgirl355​ @wicked-laugh​ @jjmaybankswife​ @ponyboys-sunsets​ @5am-cigarette​ @everydayimfangirling​ @angvelics​ @poguecollins​ @xealia​ @floridabornandraised​ @girlsru1eboysdroo1​ @booksandshish​ @apoguecalledjj​ @bananasfromtarget​ @lulbabes @arthiriticcricket​ @lasnaro​ @aaleksmorozova​ @himarisolace​ @obxmxybxnk​ @lopineapples​ @x-lulu​ @danicarosaline​ @llvinlavidaloca​ @toofarawaytobreathe​ @llvinlavidaloca​ @danicarosaline​ @ilovejjmaybank​ @socialwriter​ @searchinfornarnia159​ @1-800-jjslut​ @jolomez​ @lopineapples​

[go4blood]

tell me your favorite songs // c.h.

Hello! This is the second piece in my 9to5!sos series! In case you aren’t aware, my 9 to 5 series is the boys in like, normal jobs. I have already posted the Luke one where he is a waiter. Ashton will be a barista and Michael will work in a bookstore. Hope you guys like this fic in the series! I made a playlist to go with this fic in particular with every song I mentioned!

Word count: 2.9k

Pairing: record shop!calum x reader

Content: smut, praise kink, brief choking, a lot of fluff, and good songs

—

You parked your car in the mostly empty parking lot of the local record store. You just bought an apartment in your hometown after finishing college, and it was great to be back to what you knew. You were a frequent customer at this particular record shop before you left for college, so when you came back, you knew you had to stop by again. You walked in and were greeted by the sound of Rebel Rebel by David Bowie playing over the speakers and monotone voice coming out of nowhere, “Welcome to Josey Records, how's it going?”

You turned to the counter to see a boy with dark curly hair and brown eyes. He had a round face and strong brows, and he sported a Guns N Roses tee and plaid trousers. If looks could kill, you’d be dead on arrival. He looked bored to death as he sorted through some boxes of records. He looked oddly familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on why.

“Oh, just potentially buying a new record. Not sure which, though.” The records were sorted alphabetically, and you looked through the J’s. Janis Joplin, Jimmy Eat World, Elton John, and even the Jonas Brothers were there. There was a good mix of every genre, and you were eager to check the whole place out after 4 years of being away.

“Looking for any artist in particular? I don’t know what music you like, but I also don’t know if you only buy vinyl to display or your wall and never play. Most girls are that type.”

You were taken aback at his comment for sure. If he was planning on getting any sales, that wasn’t any way to talk to a customer. “Pardon me?Most girls?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Well, you just seem like the type of girl to buy a vinyl of The Neighbourhood or Ariana Grande to display on a shelf and collect dust rather than any good music is all.”

Oh, he was one of THOSE types of record store employees. A music snob. He probably worships The Rolling Stones or U2 just because they aren’t mainstream. But this is the only record store in town, and you weren’t going to just stop coming here. You walked up to the counter, and looked straight into his eyes, “Listen, uh, what is it,” you looked down at his name tag and back up at him, “Calum. Wait a minute,” Everything made sense. You did know him. 11 AM until 2 PM every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday you had music theory with him your junior year of highschool. He was a music snob back then, and obviously nothing had changed, “We had music theory together, Calum Hood. Obviously you’re still an arrogant prick.”

He scoffed, “Well, sweetheart, at least I have taste, because you obviously don’t.”

You rolled your eyes, going back to the J’s and picking up To Be Continued by Elton John and setting it on the counter, “I’ve been looking for this one for a while, so how about you ring me up so I can leave.”

He chuckled, ringing it up and telling you the total with a cocky grin, obviously glad he got under your skin.

You gave him exact change and grabbed the record, leaving without a word. You got back into your car and drove to your apartment, walking up the endless flight of stairs and going inside. You took your shoes off and went to the bedroom to change into comfier clothes. You then turned on the TV and picked a show on Hulu to watch and drift asleep to.

—

You awoke to the buildings fire alarm going off. You cursed quietly, quickly slipping on the nearest pair of shoes and running downstairs and outside. Everyone was also slowly exiting the building one by one, extremely groggy and tired. You looked at your phone to check the time, and it was 3 in the morning. You looked down at your attire— a crop top with extremely short sleep shorts. God, you’d do anything to not be seen in your sleep clothes. A tall figure stood near you and crossed their arms, complaining about the fire alarm going off at such an hour. You looked over and to your unpleasant surprise, it was Calum. Oh, great, he happened to live in your apartment building. Absolutely splendid.

“Oh, hey, Y/N, looks like you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms to cover your exposed stomach.

“Unfortunately, Cal, I really fucking can’t get rid of you.” You were obviously annoyed. You thought you’d only have to see him when you went to the record store, but now here he was living in the same building.

He looked you up and down, liking what he saw. You crossed your arms around you tighter, despite the fact that it hid nothing. He chuckled, shaking his head, “Make sure you come back to the shop, if you wanna prove you actually have taste. You got lucky after buying that Elton John album, you gained respect from me, darling.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. The alarm turned out to be a fluke and everyone was told they could go back to their apartments. You silently went back up the stairs, trying to stop thinking about Calum’s request. Was he taunting, or did he actually want to see you? You got back into bed, not being able to think of anything else.

—

You decided to go back to the record store and prove to Calum you had good taste in music. You parked your car and made your way inside the shop, this time greeted by the sound of Lola by The Kinks and a cheerful greeting from none other than Calum.

“Hey there, neighbor! What are you looking for this time?”

Your mind thought of any album that might possibly impress Calum. Abbey Road? No, too basic. Slippery When Wet? You already owned two copies. You sighed, saying the next thing to come to your head, “Tell Me I’m Pretty?”

He went to the computer, typing it in and shaking his head, “By Cage the Elephant? Sold the last one a month ago and never restocked. Sorry, darling. Good choice, though. Even if they’re a little mainstream.”

You leaned on the counter, resting your cheek on your hand, “Why don’t you recommend me something? Since you apparently have great taste.”

He excitedly came out from behind the counter and led me to the G’s in the indie/alternative section. He pulled out a record with a boy with candle sticks on each of his fingers on the cover. He handed it to me, smiling with pride, “This album is called This Is It by The Greeting Committee. They aren’t very popular here. They’re from Kansas City, but they’re amazing. I think you’d like them. You’ve Got Me is my favorite song on there, also Don’t Go.”

You took a look at the track list, counting the number of songs. You nodded, “Okay, I’ll listen, but only if you let me recommend you something.”

He leaned against a display, “Alright, fine. Go get something and I’ll take it home tonight and listen. It better be good.”

You grinned, handing him his choice for you and also looking through the G’s. You pulled out How To Be A Human Being by Glass Animals and handed it to him, “Youth is my favorite track, but they’re all good. Pork Soda is great, too.”

He took a look at the cover and the track list, nodding, intrigued to hear your recommendation, “How about you give me another one just for the hell of it and I give you another one?”

You nodded, and you both parted ways to go find another. You went to the T’s and picked out Tame Impala’s album Currents. Take Impala was slightly mainstream, but they were your favorite, so you took the chance of giving it to him. You met him at the counter, second guessing your choice, “I chose Currents by Tame Impala, and I recommend you listen to Let It Happen, but you might not like it because they’re sort of mainstream, so if you want I can look for another-“

He interrupted you, smiling, “I’ll listen to whatever you want me to, regardless of popularity. I got you Fleetwood Mac’s wonderful album, Rumors! I remember you mentioning you’ve never listened to them before, and I think it’s a necessity in your collection. Listen to Dreams and Gold Dust Woman.”

“You were listening? When I walked into Mr Meyer’s classroom and I asked what song he was playing? Senior year?”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Well, of course, I can’t go on with my life knowing you’ve never listened to Fleetwood Mac! That’s a sin.”

You smiled, nodding and handing him your recommendation, “Okay, I’ll listen tonight then.”

He grinned, ringing you up, “$16.12.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly confused, “Did you forget to ring up the second one? That’s really cheap for two vinyls.”

“Second one is on me. For my favorite customer.” He put it in a bag, smiling at you sincerely.

You couldn’t help but blush before uttering out a thank you and leaving to your car.

—

I lose all control whenever you're around

Darling, don't you know

Now I must admit

I wouldn't last a single day

Without you in it

You sat on your living room couch, listening to every word of every song on the first album he recommended. The song playing was his favorite on the album, You’ve Got Me, and you couldn’t blame him for calling it his favorite. It was a good song, and it was beautifully written.

Meanwhile, Calum was listening to your first recommendation. He would usually not listen to music that had this sound, but he really enjoyed it. And the fact that it came from you made him like it even more. He wasn’t confused about what he was feeling in the slightest— he made a point when he gave you that recommendation. That album has tons of love songs. He was enchanted by you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. There was something about you he just loved. Maybe it was your feisty attitude, or the fact that you made a point to prove yourself to him, but he would go into a trance when he saw you. He needed to see you now. He knew which room number was yours— you were only a few floors down. He decided to swallow his pride and go down to your room. He stood in front of your door and knocked; There was no going back now.

You answered the door, surprised to see Calum there, “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, thinking of what the hell he could say, “I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner at my place? I’m ordering takeout, and it’s no fun to have alone.” Nailed it. But now he had to pretend he didn’t just eat leftovers already.

“Um, sure, I’d like that.” You smile, slipping on your shoes that were by the door and quickly running to take the needle off of the record and put it back in the case. You then come back and close the door behind you as you exit your apartment.

He led you to his apartment, praying it wasn’t too messy. He unlocked the door and let you go in first, following behind and closing the door.

“I’m gonna order the food. If you want, you can choose a vinyl to put on.” He smiled at you, walking to the other room to talk on the phone. You looked through his collection, and it was impressive. He had every album by Joy Division on the shelf, and he also a few rare records displayed on the wall. You looked through the ones on the shelf, surprised to see a few Mac Demarco album. Calum walked back into the living room, sitting on the couch and waiting for you to choose an album.

“So, you’re a big Mac Demarco fan?”

He sat up, seeing his copy of 2 in your hands and blushing, “Uh, it’s a guilty pleasure.”

You put it on the player, moving the needle onto it and smiling at him, “I love this album.”

He smiled, patting the spot next to him, inviting you to sit beside him. You got up, taking his request and sitting beside him.

“Listen, I’m sorry for being kind of a dick that first day you came to the shop. I feel really bad.”

You shook your head, chuckling a bit, “It’s okay, Cal. Obviously you teased me because you like me.”

He blushed, “What? Where would you get that idea, I’ve never even looked at a girl!” He laughed, looking away from you and then back. He did like you. You were both silent as the sound of The Stars Keep On Calling My Name faded into My Kind of Woman. He wanted to kiss you. He needed to kiss you. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back up to your eyes, and he moved a piece of your hair out of your eyes, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. He leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips. At first, he was just gonna kiss you sweetly. Just to get the point across he liked you. That was all. But he wanted more than one little kiss. He kissed you again, harder this time. He pulled you into his lap, resting his hands on your hips as he moved his lips down to your neck. He paused, mumbling against your skin, “Is this alright, darling?”

You nodded, desperate for his touch. He then continued the action, peppering kisses here and there.

He came back up to look at you, singing the words of the song to you dramatically, “You’re making me crazy, really driving me mad!”

You giggled, blushing as he took your face in his hand, kissing you deeply.

He fiddled with the button on your jeans, looking up at you for permission. You nodded, and he pulled them off of you. You sat up, pulling your shirt off and throwing it across the room. He looked at you in awe, undoing his belt. His knee made its way between your legs, spreading them apart. He smiled, twirling a piece of your hair around his finger, “You’re so pretty, baby. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You blushed, shaking your head and looking away, “No no, not the prettiest.”

He frowned, putting his lips to your ear, “Let me make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world, yeah? Can you let me do that?”

You nodded, and he hooked his fingers onto your panties and pulled them off. He slowly pushed into you, allowing you to adjust to him. Your breath got quicker and heavier, and you gripped his shoulder, digging your nails into his skin. You couldn’t get any real words out, only moans.

He buried his face into your shoulder, gripping your waist with one hand to keep you in place, “You’re doing so good, darling. Taking me so well, aren’t you?” His lips met yours once more, kissing you sweetly and pulling back away.

You took his free hand by his wrist, placing his hand on your collarbones, hinting at something you wanted.

It took no time for him to understand, and he applied slight pressure to your neck. Finally, someone who actually knew how to choke. You gripped his wrist tighter, whimpering as he began to move faster inside of you.

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess? Are you ready?”

You nodded, feeling a pit in your stomach. Your walls clenched around him, and before you knew it, you came undone. You opened your eyes slowly, trying to catch your breath.

“You alright, darling? You did so good for me.” He ran his thumb over the marks on your neck, taking pride in what he left on your skin.

The doorbell rang, and Calum quickly put his jeans back on and throwing a blanket over top of you. He opened the door, and it was the takeout delivery. He quickly paid, telling the young guy to keep the change and closed the door.

He placed the bag on the coffee table, sitting beside you on the couch and handing you your clothes, “So… do you want the egg rolls or the dumplings?”

You were glad you fell for the dork from the record store.

Taglist!

@i-calumhood

@angelbabylu

@blahehblah