#none pants. Sorry shin

[fisherrprince]

I’ve been possessed. If anyone wants to know where Edgeworth is, he’s been watching kamen yaiba with the detective boys for 4 hours

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

[jaylalolz]

❛ 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

MOTORCYCLE RIDER!nicholas x LITTLE SISTER!reader 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

SUMMARY, Nicholas goes to his friend's house for help after a motorcycle accident, only to be surprised by his younger sister instead.

A/N, love this plot and everything about it. hope you guys like it 🤍

WARNINGS, none

Nicholas limped up the driveway, the sting in his leg pulsing with every step. His motorcycle had skidded out on the highway half an hour ago, the slick asphalt catching his tires off guard. He had escaped the worst of it, but the scrape across his knee and the dull ache in his side were enough to remind him that tonight could have ended much worse.

His head throbbed, and his jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, the leather torn in places from the fall. He didn’t want to go home—not yet. He needed a familiar face, someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions. So, he had headed for Chris’ house. It was late, but Chris never minded; they had that kind of friendship.

He stepped up to the front door, wincing as he put pressure on his leg, and knocked softly. The house was mostly dark, save for the faint glow coming from the upstairs window. He waited for a moment, expecting his friend to answer, but there was no sound.

A shuffle came from inside, and after a pause, the door creaked open.

But it wasn’t Chris.

It was his sister.

She stood there, a book in one hand, her other resting on the doorframe. Her dark hair fell in loose waves, and her eyes widened slightly when she saw him standing there, bruised and bloodied.

“Nicholas?” she asked, her voice soft but full of surprise. “What the hell happened to you?”

His mouth went dry. They hadn’t spoken much in recent months. There had always been this strange, unspoken tension between them—a pull that neither of them acknowledged. But seeing her now, with the faint light casting shadows across her face, something in his chest tightened.

“Had a bit of an accident,” he muttered, gesturing toward his leg. “Chris around?”

She shook her head, stepping aside to let him in. “He’s out for the night. What kind of accident?”

“A stupid one,” he admitted, limping into the living room. “Bike went down on the highway. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

She closed the door behind him, her expression softening as she took in the state of him. “You look like you need more than just a few bandages.”

“I’m fine,” he said, brushing it off. “I just need to clean it up a bit.”

“Let me get the first aid kit,” she replied, not waiting for his protests as she disappeared down the hallway.

Nicholas sat down carefully on the couch, his hands trembling slightly from the leftover adrenaline. He wasn’t used to being vulnerable in front of her, of all people. He’d known her for years, watched her grow from the annoying little sister who always seemed to hover around the edges of his and Chris’s friendship, to… this.

She returned a moment later, a small kit in her hands. “Let me see,” she said, kneeling in front of him.

“I can do it myself,” he grumbled, trying to keep some semblance of pride.

“Clearly you can’t, or you wouldn’t have ended up here instead of the hospital,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. She motioned for him to roll up his pant leg.

With a resigned sigh, he did as she asked, pulling the fabric up to reveal the scrape along his knee. It was raw and ugly, streaks of blood running down his shin.

Her face softened. “You really should have gone to a doctor,” she said quietly, but she didn’t press it any further. Instead, she carefully wiped away the dried blood, her touch gentle but precise. Her fingers grazed his skin, sending an unexpected jolt through him.

The tension between them thickened in the quiet, the only sounds coming from the clink of the antiseptic bottle and the sharp intake of his breath as she applied it.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her eyes briefly meeting his before she focused on the wound again.

“It’s fine,” Nicholas said, his voice rougher than he intended. He couldn’t ignore the way her presence made the room feel smaller, the way his pulse quickened when she was this close.

After a few moments, she reached for a roll of bandages, wrapping his leg with practiced ease. “You’re lucky it’s just a scrape,” she said. “Could’ve been a lot worse.”

He nodded, watching her hands move with surprising tenderness. “Yeah, guess I’ve always been lucky like that.”

She paused, her hands stilling on his leg for just a second, her eyes meeting his again—this time, there was something unspoken between them, something neither of them seemed willing to break. Her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but the words didn’t come.

Nicholas swallowed hard, feeling the pull between them grow stronger. The room felt too quiet, too charged. He could see the hesitation in her eyes, the same question he was asking himself. What would happen if he crossed that line?

“Angel..,” he began, his voice low. He didn't know what he was going to say next, only that his nickname he called her felt like an anchor in his mouth, keeping him here when he knew he should leave.

She didn't move. For a moment, neither of them did. The room felt smaller, the distance between them shrinking even though neither of them had taken a step. His pulse was loud in his ears, drowning out every rational thought telling him to walk out the door, to leave things as they were.

But he couldn't.

Her eyes flicked down to his mouth, just for a second, and something inside him snapped. Before he could stop himself, he closed the distance between them in two quick strides. She didn't move away. In fact, she stepped toward him, her breath catching slightly as he reached her.

"Angel," he says, but this time it was a whisper, like he was asking for permission he wasn't sure she'd give.

She met his gaze, her eyes dark and uncertain, but full of something deeper -something that mirrored what he was feeling. "Nicholas..." she breathed, and in that moment, it was all the permission he needed.

He reached for her, his hand finding her waist as he pulled her closer, his other hand gently cradling her face. She didn't resist. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause around them, everything else fading into the background.

And then he kissed her.

It was slow at first, tentative, like both of them were testing the waters of something they'd been dancing around for far too long. Her lips were soft against his, warm, and he could feel the faint tremble in her body as she pressed against him. He kissed her deeper, and she responded, her hands sliding up to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his torn jacket.

The kiss deepened, and suddenly all the restraint they had been holding onto vanished. His fingers tangled in her hair as he tilted her head back, his lips moving against hers with a hunger that surprised him. He had thought about this-too many times, in too many ways—but nothing compared to the reality of having her here, in his arms, tasting her lips like he'd never be able to get enough.

She pulled him closer, her body molding against his, and his hands roamed down to her hips, feeling the heat between them grow with every second. The tension that had been building for so long finally exploded, filling the room with the heat of their kiss, the sound of their breaths mingling in the quiet space.

She broke away for just a second, her forehead resting against his as they both gasped for air. Her eyes were wide, lips swollen, and her fingers gripped his shirt as if she was afraid to let go.

"Nicholas.. your hurt we can’t be doing this" she whispered, her voice full of uncertainty but also something that felt like surrender.

Before he could reply, she stood up, breaking the moment. She started to gather the first aid supplies, her movements suddenly brisk and purposeful. “I’ll tell Chris you came by,” she said, her tone shifting back to something more neutral. “He’ll probably give you hell for wrecking the bike.”

Nicholas watched her, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between them settle back into place. He knew he should leave. But part of him wanted to stay.

But instead, he nodded, rising to his feet. “Thanks,” he said quietly, pulling his jacket back over his shoulders. “For, you know… this.”

She looked at him then, her expression softening just for a moment. “Anytime,” she said, but there was something else in her voice, something that told him this wasn’t just a one-time thing.

As he limped back toward the door, the silence between them felt heavier than before, but not unwelcome. It was a silence filled with possibility—possibility neither of them was quite ready to face.

Not yet.

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Your date--or non-date--with Eddie was ruined when he dodged your kiss. Or...was it? (5.4k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, Reader wears a miniskirt, drinking, drunkenness, making out, heavy petting, mentions of smut, mention of masturbation (m), idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

chapter eleven: undo, undone

He pulled away.

You leaned in for a kiss, and Eddie pulled away.

The full extent of rejection hadn’t even set in before you felt something cold and wet on your leg. An electric blue liquid dripped down your shin, traveling in winding paths like veins. 

Haziness shifted into perfect clarity, flinging you into sudden and unwanted sobriety. The music was too loud, the dimmed lights still too bright. Every conversation was now too loud, the floor sticky beneath your Doc Marten-ed feet. 

When you mustered up the nerve to look at Eddie, you saw that he had fared even worse; his entire left pant leg was drenched and already reeked of gin and the cerulean syrup stained his sneakers. His eyes widened as he processed what had just happened, a startled deer in the headlights. 

“Oh my God; I’m so sorry!” 

The drunken apology snagged your attention, coming from none other than the woman who’d brutally massacred Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. She stumbled forward again, and whatever remained of her drink sloshed over the glass and onto the floor. 

Her lower lip jutted out into a pout and panicked tears welled in her eyes as she looked from you to Eddie. “Have you seen my boyfriend?” Her words were slurred; ‘seen’ came out as ‘sheen.’ “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“I’ll help you find him.” Anything to get away from Eddie, to avoid the thundering question: Had he pulled back because of the spilled drink, or did he cause the spill by pulling away?

It had to be the latter. He probably regretted ever offering to celebrate your graduation and would spend the rest of the evening ruminating over how he’d inadvertently led you on. Was it dedicating a song to you? The dancing? 

Except…neither of those had been his idea. You were the one who insisted he sing karaoke. You were the one who asked him to dance. He relented to appease you, and you’d completely humiliated yourself by stretching his kindness past its platonic confines. 

The woman latched herself onto your arm with one gin-soaked hand and swiped at her cheeks with the other. Up close, she barely looked old enough to legally drink. “His name is Charlie.”

“Huh?” Her boyfriend. The one you were supposed to be locating. “Oh, right.” 

Eddie scrubbed his jeans with a wad of flimsy napkins, muttering under his breath when they left a papery residue in their wake. He grumbled something about the restroom before storming off in that direction. 

Your new drunk companion rested her head on your shoulder, permed hair tickling your neck. 

“What does Charlie look like?” The bar wasn’t big, not even by New York City standards, but having a general idea of who you were looking for would be a massive help. 

She just laughed softly, a joke only she knew, head lolling as she spoke. “Y’know…tall-ish. Blue eyes. Has, um, hair with a little woop thing.” Her palm mimicked an ocean wave. Just as you had predicted, the gesture provided nothing of relevance towards your search. 

You gritted your teeth in a forced smile. “Okay, right.” Sucking in a harsh breath, you led her to the bar and ordered two waters, practically shoving the condensation-frosted glass into her hand. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?” It all came out as one word: Wheresyourboyfren?

“He’s not—” You shook your head; there was no sense in trying to explain the situation to a wasted stranger. “Bathroom.”

The girl’s droopy lids snapped open. “That’s where Charlie went!” She threw her head back and cackled, and you quickly roped an arm around her waist to keep her from teetering over in her too-high heels. “You’re gorgeous, by the way. No wonder your boyfriend looks at you like you’re a fucking goddess.” Her mood rapidly shifted to one of ire as she threw out, “Bet he’d never leave you alone in this skeezy bar.”

Except he had left you alone in this skeezy bar—and he wasn’t your boyfriend. 

You could still feel his soft cotton t-shirt beneath your fingers, the way his curly tendrils of hair brushed along your hands. The gentle nose crinkle each time he smiled at you from the stage was forever etched into your brain. 

At what point did he realize he’d made a mistake? When did regret tarnish his good deed?

Tears pricked in your eyes as the weight of humiliation now set in. Your mascara would run, but who cared? It wasn’t as though you had anyone to impress anymore. 

The TV above the bar flashed with the red and blue of police lights, the colors blurred by your own tears. You blinked them away just in time to read the closed captioning scrolling along the bottom of the screen. 

The frontman of an up-and-coming punk band once again finds himself in legal trouble. Caleb Dalton, the lead singer and guitarist for Death’s Echo, was arrested early this morning for disorderly conduct and public intoxication. 

The video showed a young man keeping his head down so his shaggy blond hair covered his eyes, his hands cuffed behind his back and rendered unable to shield his face.

This is not the first time Dalton has landed himself in hot water. Just last week, the troubled musician was arrested for allegedly driving under the influence; his court date is set for early next month. All of this erratic behavior has fans wondering how this could impact the band’s first world tour, set to begin mid-June.

A professional photo of Death’s Echo took up the entirety of the screen. There was Caleb Dalton, front and center, shirtless and brooding. To his immediate left and right were two other men, one incredibly tall and lanky with gleaming chains dangling from both his neck and the belt loops of his dark-wash JNCOs. The other was shorter, stockier, wearing a black tank top that was littered with holes. If Eddie’s recollections of swanky hotel rooms and impromptu helicopter rides were true, the holes must have been purposefully designed to heighten the band’s grungy look. 

But the member who snagged your attention was the only woman in the group. Her eyes, thickly rimmed with kohl and sheathed in a smoky shadow, bore into your soul. Blonde hair fell in jagged layers and framed a heart-shaped face, her crimson-painted pout simultaneously beckoning suitors to come hither and stay away. 

You imagined those lips on Eddie’s for half a second before your drinks threatened to make a reappearance. 

The report ended with the obligatory statement: “Dalton’s rep could not be reached for comment,” before shifting to the next story. 

Tongue firmly adhered to the roof of your mouth, you gulped down some water in hopes of ungluing it. In hopes of sorting out your thoughts, jumbled from embarrassment and the jolt of alcohol to your system. 

If Eddie had seen that…you couldn’t stomach the thought of him watching as his replacement’s lips subtly curled into a smirk as he was shuffled along towards the police car. That was the smirk of a man who knew he’d evaded the law before and would likely do it again. Fame and fortune certainly had their ways of tipping the scales of justice. 

The news would almost certainly usher in unwelcome memories of his hometown and the people who took joy in vandalizing his trailer. The people who continuously made his life a living hell and faced no consequences because of their pristine reputations and Eddie’s tarnished one. 

You shoved the information deep down and vowed to never let it bubble over. If Eddie found out on his own, that was one thing. But you refused to further ruin this evening for him. 

“Dianna?”

A man’s worried voice called out from the back of the bar, his sandy eyebrows pinched together as he scoped out the cramped venue. With his crisp button-down and khaki pants, he could be Eddie’s polar opposite. 

“Oh my god! Babe!” The girl yanked herself from your light grasp. You realized that you hadn’t known her name until that moment, though there was a decent chance she wouldn’t even remember it if you’d asked. She stumbled over to the man—Charlie, you assumed—whose concerned expression dissolved into relief the moment she flung her arms over his shoulders. 

Charlie pulled her close and let out an extended sigh. His jaw relaxed, lips pressed to her temple as his frenetic energy tapered and his heart rate slowed. “Scared the shit outta me, babe.” He murmured against her ear. “Why didn’t you stay at the table?”

Your heart ached at the way he held her close, a precious commodity that he would protect with his life. Would Eddie ever touch you like that? Would he leave protective kisses all along your shoulders, nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck? Would he panic if he thought something happened to you?

If his rebuff of your kiss was any indication, it was highly unlikely.

Dianna shrugged. “I wanted to get another drink, but then I spilled it all over her boyfriend,” she said, pointing to you. 

Charlie looked in your direction as though seeing you for the first time. “That explains the guy standing at the sink, washing his pants.” His fingers sifted through the blonde curtains that flopped right back to his forehead, adding to no one in particular, “Dude looked pissed.”

Your stomach roiled, whiskey and vodka burning at the base of your throat. Between your unwelcome advances and Dianna’s drink snafu, Eddie’s good deed was far from unpunished.

The urge to empty the contents of your stomach only heightened when you imagined the look of utter disgust Eddie must have worn when you leaned in for that kiss and the embarrassment he felt on your behalf. A man bought you a drink, obliged your request for a dance to a mediocre karaoke rendition of a song, and you took that as some grand romantic gesture? Pathetic. 

It was just another way that you let people down. 

Eddie’s expectations of a night out with a platonic friend. 

Mom and Dad’s expectations of you taking over the motel. 

Your own expectations of Eddie secretly harboring romantic feelings for you, strong enough to shine through the cloud of insecurity constantly surrounding you. 

Once again, you were a disappointment. 

The room’s walls began closing in, filling your lungs with wet sand that clung to the muscle and made breathing an impossible task. A fuzzy film blurred your vision and warped the room until it was utterly unrecognizable. 

Air. You needed fresh air and to get far away from this godforsaken bar. A wave of heat crashed over you again and again, dousing you in your own perspiration and keeping your feet pasted to the floorboards. 

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t—

“Heiress?”

Eddie’s voice shredded through anxiety’s haze, his worried tone bursting the bubble with a violent pop. The world began shifting back into place, your mind floating back down in reluctant reunion with your body. 

“Hey.” Strong palms clasped your trembling shoulders. He leaned in to ensure you heard him over the pulsing music. “Let’s get outta here, okay?”

Your response was a meager nod. His fingers glided down your bare arm, goosebumps rising in their wake, as he took your hand and led you outside. The burst of night-chilled air was a sweet nectar; your bones drank it up like a delicacy. 

Diaphragm loosening, you took one shallow breath, then another that rested a bit deeper in your chest. You anchored yourself in the moment until you once again recognized the subtle press of your lungs against your ribcage. 

Home. You needed to get home. 

Peering down to check your watch, you realized that Eddie’s hand still clutched yours. The pad of his thumb traced lazy lines along the skin between your thumb and forefinger, steady as a heartbeat. 

“It was getting kinda crowded in there, huh?” It was said entirely for your benefit, you knew: Eddie was accustomed to packed arenas and sold-out stadiums. 

Another nod. “Y-Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it t-to be…” That was the whole reason why you’d suggested a Monday night, but Karaoke Night must have brought in an influx of new customers. Couple that with the end of the Memorial Day weekend, where people didn’t want the party to end after the family barbecues wound down, and you had the perfect recipe for an overcrowded bar.

Eddie dug into his back pocket as the two of you began walking back towards the motel, procuring a dented box of Camels and his trusty lighter. His eyes, illuminated by The Brink’s dim neon signage, flicked over to yours. “Is it cool if I…?” He raised the cigarette, pinched between his pointer and middle finger, unlit until you gave your approval.

“S’fine.” You watched his thumb glide over the sparkwheel, igniting a tiny flame. The scent of burning tobacco wafted off of the end of his cigarette, the wind blowing a curl of smoke in your direction. 

He waved his hand to ward it away from you. “Sorry,” he mumbled. When he took another drag, it happened again. “Jesus Christ. Here.” Tucking the cigarette between his lips, he planted his feet behind you and placed both hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. Electricity crackled beneath his touch, his fingertips the lightning and his voice the gentle rumble of thunder.

Stop it, you reprimanded yourself. He dodged your kiss. You can’t be thinking this way anymore.

He sidestepped to your right, the breeze now carrying the smoke away from you. Another deep inhale had the flame ripping through the paper, ash building up on the cigarette’s tip. The flakes floated down and decorated the tops of his sneakers in a gray snow. A warning sat on your tongue, hampered only by the cool dampness suddenly touching your bare leg. 

Eddie grimaced at the way you stumbled and stepped away slightly so the wet denim no longer pressed against your skin. “I got most of the drink out, I think. It’s just soap and water at this point.” 

You stopped again, stooping down and pinching the fabric of his jeans between two fingers. The scent of gin still clung to him, though not as strongly as it had immediately following Dianna’s spill. Or maybe it was just the tobacco’s heaviness that overpowered it. That damn cigarette, so smugly perched where you longed to be. 

“I’m doing a load of laundry tomorrow,” you managed, shaking off the remaining thoughts of Eddie’s lips as you carefully stood up. The last thing you needed was dizziness spinning you to the ground. “I can throw these in with my stuff, if that’s okay.”

Eddie grinned. It was the first glimmer of happiness you’d seen from him since asking him to dance.

“Trying to get in my pants, Heiress?”

Your feet caught beneath you. You dug your heels into the pavement to steady yourself, sending up silent praise to whatever omnipotent presence kept you from falling flat on your face. 

If he was joking with you…he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t unnerved by your attempt to kiss him. 

You invited relief in, just enough to loosen a retort from your arsenal. 

“Don’t make me rescind my offer,” you quipped back. “And in the meantime, I’ll just tell people you pissed yourself.”

Eddie quirked up an eyebrow. “On the outside of my leg? I can see why you studied psychology instead of anatomy.”

There was nothing you needed to focus on less than Eddie Munson’s anatomy right now, the way it might feel against your own, within your own. Not when the ship had only just begun steering down the right course again. 

“That girl found her boyfriend, by the way. Or, he found her, I guess.” It was the first subject your brain latched onto. When Eddie’s reply was a confused stare, you hurriedly elaborated. “The girl who spilled her drink on you.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” He flicked some more ash from his cigarette and took another wistful drag. “This whole night was a blur.” 

You forced yourself to choke down the insecurity that had lodged itself in your throat. “Rockstar can’t mix liquor like he used to?” You tutted disapprovingly. “Maybe you’re getting a little rusty. Out of practice.”

“Please.” He scoffed, snuffing out the cigarette on a brick wall. “Did you see my moves tonight?”

You certainly had. Each hip swivel, each pelvic thrust was firmly etched into your memories. And then there was the way he’d danced with you, leading with the confidence of an order but the tenderness of a suggestion. 

“Fair enough,” you conceded. The fresh air was working wonders; you stood a bit straighter as you continued walking alongside him, your footsteps in time with his own. “I still can’t believe you sang Elvis.”

“Me either.” Eddie laughed through his nose. “I was going to sing something Ozzy-adjacent, but then I saw Heartbreak Hotel and figured it fit better with, y’know, our whole thing.”

Our whole thing. An invisible and intangible thing, but he felt it, too. Felt it enough to acknowledge it aloud. 

A smile blossomed on your lips. “You were easily the best one up there. Singing, dancing…all of it.” Flattery embedded in truth, you noted the tips of his ears tinging red. 

“I don’t think anyone would mistake me for a dancer.” He chuckled, hand swaying out just enough to find purchase on your back and pull you an inch closer.  

You swallowed back desire and forced yourself to focus on anything but the press of his fingers against your spine. “N-No future career in Elvis impersonation? Or ballroom dancing?” 

“Nah.” Eddie shook a stray curl from his eyes. “And I definitely stepped on your toes while we were dancing.”

“You didn’t.” If he had, you didn’t notice, too swept up in the warmth of his closeness to even register any overlapping feet or bumping knees. 

Someone barely visible in the inky night lugged a garbage pail across the sidewalk, the scraping of metal bringing your heart into your throat. The noise must have startled Eddie, too; his fingers tensed against your side to hold you in place as he stepped in front of you. 

“Shit.” He swore under his breath. Nervous, awkward laughter permeated the air when he realized that the threat was no more than a dented hunk of metal. “Sorry about that. I just thought–”

“S’okay.”

Comfortable silence, as much as the city streets allowed, accompanied you as you walked back, broken only by crickets’ rhythmic chirping and car engines revving down the boulevard. Eddie’s eyes stayed alert to his surroundings and his grip remained tight around your waist, adrenaline still coursing through his veins from the earlier scare. His chest nudged your back; you could feel his heart thumping a protective beat.

A hunger to kiss away that fear, to nuzzle yourself into him until his pulse steadied and his breathing regulated, settled into you. You were starving to restore his lightheartedness. 

Eddie’s voice was rife with apprehension when he spoke again. “I, uh, think we got interrupted. Back at the bar.” 

He looked away as he spoke, and it took a moment for you to register what he said. Surely he wasn’t referring to the kiss—or lack thereof. He wouldn’t be bringing it into the conversation now that the embers of your embarrassment had finally stopped burning bright. 

You shoved the thought far from your mind, temporarily quelling the memory’s intensity and allowing yourself to think straight. The slow dance–he meant the slow dance being interrupted. “The song was almost over, anyway,” you said softly.

“I’m not talking about the dance.”

Oh. So that meant…

“Heiress.”

A hint of a warble clipped his nickname for you. Eddie’s left hand wrapped around your upper arm, fingers barely touching skin, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. You caught the way his tongue flicked over his lip, the way his cocoa irises darkened even under the streetlamp’s flickering light. Fuzziness filled your brain; your breath hitched in some unknown space between your lungs and your throat.

His right thumb brushed your chin, your jawline, memorizing the texture of your skin. He smiled, the gentle upward tug of the corners of his mouth suddenly the center of your focus.

“Heiress,” Eddie repeated, the word a whisper that left your bones humming. 

You nodded, your own fingers tangled in his cotton shirt, pulling him an inch closer that still felt like he was a mile away. He would never be close enough, you realized. 

His palm slid to your cheek, his fingers tucked behind your ear, beckoning you to take that small step forward and bridge that gap. It was your choice. You could back away and unfurl your fingers from around his shirt. You could ignore the aching need in your core, the one that matched his. 

You deserve to be happy, he’d said.

And for once, you allowed yourself to believe him.

You believed him when you stepped into him, your chest against his, rising and falling in perfect synchronicity. You believed him when noses clumsily bumped together as you sought his lips, the lips from which symphonies of music and laughter flowed. You believed him when you finally found them after the agonizing seconds, minutes, hours, days–time both hastened and ceased to exist–and connected with Eddie on a level only ever reached in your runaway daydreams.

Expectations slid down your back and swirled down the storm drains when his tongue sought entrance at your lips. There was no school, no motel, no troubled lead singer. There was only you and Eddie. 

A calloused palm clutched your shirt, the fabric bunching between his fingers. The fervor of his tug pulled the neckline down past your collarbone to reveal one white bra strap. 

Eddie’s lips danced over your uncovered shoulder, forefinger sliding under your bra strap and toying with it once his mouth returned to yours. The touch was burning, the promise of pleasure sending sparks careening down your spine. The flames spoke nonsensically, whispering to let him undress you right here in the street. 

His hunger for you was seemingly just as insatiable. The hand that rested on your cheek dove to where your skirt curved along your ass, wrinkling the stiff denim as he squeezed harshly. You let your own grasp fall from his collar to his biceps, feeling them instinctively flex beneath your touch. 

More. You needed more. You needed all of him, needed to give him all of you, until you were wholly unified with no clear beginning or end to you and Eddie as separate beings. 

Your hips rolled into him, a soft moan leaving his mouth to safekeep in yours. You let it trickle down your throat, relishing in the subtle hardness that you felt pressed against his fly. 

A shoulder collided with his and sent both of you stumbling, Eddie only holding you tighter to prevent a fall. His arms wrapped around you as he scowled at the man who dared to occupy the sidewalk while the two of you were locked in an embrace. 

“We’re in the way,” you murmured against him, nose grazing the hint of stubble peppering his jaw. 

Eddie said nothing in response. His eyes shone with equal parts determination and desire. In one swift, impulsive motion, he grabbed your wrists and led you off to the side, away from any passersby. 

“‘S probably better that we stop.” The disappointment weighing down his words spoke volumes. “Your shift starts soon.”

You shook your head. “We can be fast.” Your lips attached to his neck, sucking lightly as your teeth grazed his exposed skin. 

“Look at me, Heiress.” Eddie sighed and leaned against the nearest lamppost. He kept two fingers curled into your belt loop, bringing you with him. “I don’t wanna do this with a timeclock going.”

“It’s fine, really.” Kissing him forever still wouldn’t be long enough. 

A chuckle punctuated his breath. “When we do that…” His thumb brushed over your lower lip for a second time. “I’m not gonna be rushed. I’m gonna need hours, Heiress. Because once I have you like that, I’ll never be able to stop.”

Heat seeped into every pore, bringing with it a familiar ache. Needs and wants blurred together until they were indistinguishable from each other, his kisses having siphoned all logic out of your mind. 

You allowed a moment for the fog to clear and reality to settle. No, you couldn’t fake illness and burden your parents with an extra shift, just to have sex with Eddie. No, you shouldn’t run your fingertips along his zipper and awaken the beast that he had managed to quell. No, you wouldn’t let lust wield its power like a mighty sword, slicing into all reasoning until it was unrecognizable. 

“Y-Yeah.” You swallowed back temptation, your gaze falling to where his arousal was still evident in his jeans. 

Eddie’s eyes followed yours, accompanied by an embarrassed huff of laughter. “Don’t worry about that.” The tip of his nose grazed your earlobe as he whispered, “I can take care of that later.”

His admission brought the imagery of him laying back in his bed, boxers haphazardly shoved halfway down his thighs and hand wrapped around his cock. You wanted—needed—to know how he touched himself. Did he tease the head with his thumb? Did he use his other hand to cup his balls? Did he gradually edge himself or did he sprint towards euphoria?

The cold metal of his belt buckle brought goosebumps through your shirt fabric as he kissed you once again, too briefly. Always too briefly. What you wouldn’t give for just a few more moments alone with him to unfasten that buckle yourself. 

“Heiress?” 

Eddie’s smile lifted you out of your thoughts, the smirk informing you that he knew you weren’t paying attention. 

“Hmm?”

Lips connected to the soft skin just below your ear; your body reflexively arched into their butterfly touch. “What time are you doing laundry tomorrow?”

“Oh, um,” You calculated silently, the inside of your cheek trapped between your teeth. If you went to bed at 6 A.M. and then slept until early afternoon… “No earlier than two. I can knock on your door when I’m ready.”

He nodded as he threaded his fingers with yours. A current of protection surged through the lines etched in his palms, wrapping you in a cocoon that kept the rest of the world at bay. The sounds of car horns and pedestrians’ conversations and the subway rattling under the grate faded into the background, too dull to even hear. There was no one except for you and Eddie.

The motel entrance loomed ahead, the dimming sign filling you with ambivalence rather than its usual sense of tranquility. Despite the headaches and heartaches it brought, it was still home. 

Tonight, however, you approached it with newfound apprehension. Entering the lobby meant that you had a choice to make: You could keep your grasp on Eddie’s hand and risk your mom seeing, or you could let it go before she noticed. 

You reluctantly untangled your fingers from his, anxiety defeating you with a fatal blow. His hand draped over your wrist for the briefest moment before falling unceremoniously to his side. It hurt to look at the confusion pinching his brows together, his mind spinning to determine the miscalculation that caused you to let go. 

Telling Mom would be too complicated; you’d basically be subjecting yourself to a lecture on the unprofessionalism and dangers of forming romantic relationships with the guests. 

No matter that you’d never pursued so much as a friendship with a guest prior to meeting Eddie. No matter that, with him, you felt more whole than you’d ever been. More true to your authentic self. 

Mom looked up before the bell jingled, a product of her maternal sixth sense. There was no missing your smudged lipstick or the pinkish-red marks across Eddie’s mouth that nullified any alibi he might create. 

“Did you two have fun?” To her credit, Mom kept her tone nonchalant, but her narrowed eyes saw it all. 

“Mhm.” You scraped at the corner of your lip, as if that would conceal the evidence. “Eddie sang Elvis at karaoke.”

That got a smile out of Mom, her posture softening slightly. Still, distrust radiated off of her skin, twisting the knife of inadequacy deeper into your stomach. She glanced between you and Eddie, sizing up the situation. There was nothing she could say at that moment. Not with Eddie standing right there.

“I’m gonna get changed and I’ll be right back.” You couldn’t bear to meet her gaze as you walked to your room. 

A piece of you hoped that Eddie would be waiting when you returned. You stripped off your skirt first, the denim dropping to the ground and revealing your panties. They were, in fact, pink and lacy; the kind that one might wear if they planned to show them to someone else. As if you and Eddie would have been able to sneak past your mom unnoticed. 

You tugged on a pair of jeans, too worn and wide-legged to be capable of showing off your figure. 

The make-up you wore to the bar was too dark for work, and you scrubbed at it until mascara residue stained your white washcloth black. You rinsed, scrubbed, and repeated until your face was bare. Tired eyes stared back in the mirror. 

Honesty was a weight in your chest, anchoring you in an abyss of your own shortcomings. It pulled you down, down, down until the waters were too murky and the pressure was too strong to swim up to the surface. 

With a deep breath, you pushed off of the sink ledge and headed back to the lobby. Only Mom was there, her disdain no longer hidden now that the two of you were alone. 

“Eddie’s in his room,” she said, as though reading your mind. 

“Okay. Yeah, he’s probably tired—”

“You know better than to get involved with a guest—employee—whatever he is.” Mom waved her hand in irritation. Her voice was sharp, cleaving through the facade with one cut, yet hushed in case of eavesdropping ears. 

You cast your eyes down to the floor. “We’re—we’re not involved. Things just got out of hand, but we’re colleagues. Friendly colleagues,” you added off-handedly. 

Mom sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want you making friends,” she started, “but it’s not a good idea for you to get close to Eddie. If you have an argument or a falling out…”

“I know.” It compromised too much. Eddie could pack up and leave at the drop of a hat, and the motel would be without a handyman. You weren’t sure how the place survived before he was around, changing light bulbs and plunging toilets and tinkering with minor electrical problems. Now that he was here, he was an invaluable asset. 

“Okay.” Mom looked at you once more, a warning flashing in her eyes. “Okay.” Stepping out from behind the desk, she watched as you took her place. 

“Mom?” All of your truths begged and pleaded to be unleashed. Your feelings for Eddie, graduate school, plans for the future. 

She stopped, stunned by the vulnerability in your tone. “Yeah?”

Tell her. Stop being a coward and tell her. 

“I’m gonna wash clothes around two tomorrow, if you need anything done.”

Failure. 

Mom loosened a breath that blew away some of her anger. “I’ll ask Dad, but I think we’re good.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know running this place hasn’t been easy, but we’re really proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Every ounce of your remaining strength was spent on tempering your emotions, swallowing the pit that formed in your throat. “Get some sleep.”

The ugliness of your lies wrapped around you, constricting vines that dug into your skin and severed the flow of blood and air. 

The daughter they were proud of didn’t exist. Maybe she never did. And the daughter they had was surely nothing less than a disappointment. 

It wasn’t until the silence settled in, swallowing you whole, that you realized you’d never bid Eddie good night.

--

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[nanabrainrot]

Leg Lock [Pervert!Miguel]

Miguel isn’t convinced you’re as adept in as many martial arts as you say; he says you can only prove it with a spar.

Warning! NSFW content ahead. DUBIOUS CONSENT - reader is oblivious the way he’s wrestling is to cop a feel and that he cums on himself :/ what a freak

Pervert!Miguel x F!Oblivious!Reader

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You were none the wiser. Your spidey senses just didn’t pick up on the ways of men - you were no mind reader. The definition of book smart but not street smart. It’s unbelievable you accepted his personal “challenge” to spar and no less showed up in this ensemble: the smallest compression shorts that was barely even the size of boyshorts and a form fitting tank with a v that dipped dangerously low to the stretch of skin between your tits.

The fact he turned up the air conditioner and had the fan looming above on full blast only served to sweeten the sight by making your nipples pebble against the polyester mix. If he put enough friction across your chest, if you were sensitive you’d surely moan or at least give him a choked gasp; something to jack off to later.

“You ready to eat your words, Miguel?” you huffed seriously. The comical difference between you two was shown in the shadow cast by the fluorescent overhead light in the spinning fan: he was standing hands on his hips and stone-faced at one end of the personal training room and you at the other, bouncing on the balls of your feet with hands already stiff in front like a boxer. It didn’t help it looked like a yippy chihuahua hounding a rottweiler for a fight.

“Just try to at least land a hit -“

You lunged forward, shin flying up to try and meet his neck only to be blocked by his forearm. His eyes widen at your fast pace, but narrow as he meets your onslaught of moves with defenses. The little wraps around your fists do graze his skin as you batter at him with a flurry of fists like a boxer, though your kicks definitely reminded him of capoeira. The speed of it had to be from mixed martial arts and speedboxing while your grace and precision was karate inspired. And he could tell you did jiu jitsu by the way you tried to get him in a leg lock, jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist and use your arms to push at his neck hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

You had to have known that move would have put you in this position: back pressed hard to the mat with no way out. You were incredibly skilled, surprising him with the flurry of fists and kicks fast enough to put him in a position where he could only really use defense but definitely underestimated what he was willing to do to best you.

Miguel had a black belt in jiu jitsu, teaching classes at the dojo Gabby went to back in Nueva York, hard pressed to raise a girl who could handle her own. If you hadn’t overestimated yourself and started off using so much energy, you wouldn’t be panting like this.

Your brows knit, face tense with focus as you gauged your next move but his mind was anywhere but this spar: his cock was against your groin. The sorry excuse of shorts left nothing to the imagination only confirmed that under it was nothing but your bare puffy cunt as his knees drove into the mat to set you in place under him, your wrists pinned under his. “You didn’t land a hit. Too big of an ego can get you -“

A hard impact of your feet hitting his pecs and sending him back from the surprise as you rolled back in a tuck and jumped to your feet back in a boxing stance. Flyaways stuck out from your messy hair from being pinned to the mat as your chest heaved, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“Can get me what?” you snorted in between short breaths.

“Get you -“ Miguel lunged forward, his legs long and strong enough to dart behind you to grab you by the waist and drag you to the floor, “-killed.”

Whines and grunts of struggle left you as you tried to get out of the compromising position: Miguel had you in a nelson on the floor, big hot palms of his hands on your neck and arm pinning back your biceps as you tried to grab at his wrists to apply enough force to get him to have a looser grip.

Too focused is a bad thing, sometimes. The fabric of your volleyball compression shorts that were more like panties rode up as your ass grinded against his groin - cock hard and twitching in his sweatpants as your feet struggled to get enough friction with the mat to be able to do a backbend or tuck and roll to use your flexibility. Dozens of possible routes flit in your mind and zero of them acknowledged you were basically being dry humped by Miguel: his grunts from the friction mistakes for grunts of effort. In reality, you were easy to restrain but the issue was your agility and speed compared to his strength - a given granted his strength based workout regimen versus yours, which focused on flexibility.

“If powers were allowed, I’d have had you pinned in the first minute,” you panted, lip twitching in focus as you continued to roll your hips against his as you struggled to find footing to be able to utilize your flexibility and roll over him. He must be smart, you think (stupidly), as his legs suddenly push against the mat and have him standing: yet you hang there in a full nelson. “That’s not funny, Miguel!” you hissed, as his forearms settled under your thighs during the shift and the palms secured at your neck still. The size difference suddenly made you realize why spars had size and weight classes; but there were no weight classes with the villains and anomalies you regularly encountered, he chastisted as he offered a spar with you.

If you had your powers allowed, you would’ve had him against the ceiling by now. But you shook on it. God, you wish you had a weaker sense of integrity and just said fuck it and blasted him with your power to get out of this humiliating debacle. The only thing left in reach was his fingers.

Your hands fly to the fingers locked behind your neck keeping you mid air as you resorted to a dirty trick: scratching with nails. A low hiss emits as he drops you and loses footing, landing on top of you: groin to ass. The dirty trick leaves him huffing with anger as he suddenly has you in a head lock, your hands batting at him pathetically. You just wanted to tap out, he could tell, but he just needed one thing: to have his way.

His hips roll into your pussy, feigning it as trying to keep you pinned by shifting weight from knee to knee in a side-to-side motion and lurched forward sometimes. The fact you kept bucking your hips to get out of the pin only helped him along; the warmth of your pussy would have been nicer, but next spar. Knowing your competitive nature, you would go along with a naked wrestling competition if it meant coming out on top.

But he’s on top right now, his hot breath fanning your ear as you mewl and bat at the thick forearnms around your neck pinning you. “F-fine…!” you whine out, borderline pornographic in your pleading, “you win!”

His hips roll again, with you still bucking your hips back into him. “Say it again.” He knew your whiny nature, the way when you wanted your way you would do anything: most missions consisted of you pleading and begging to see the sights on other dimensions or stop by food stalls like you were on vacation. He fucking spoiled you but even bratty bitches need discipline.

“You win!”

“Louder!”

“You win, Miguel!”

A hot pant. Fuck, the way you were whining and bucking in this position was getting him close. A few more words and he’d surely cum, wearing the dark sweatpants and a long baggy tee that loomed over where the wet spot would be specifically with this in mind. No powers put you in a disadvantage, the height and mass difference would never let you win. A spar was just a reason to hump you as you stupidly wriggled and cried out. One more sentence, then he’ll cum, cum and stop. The urge will leave and he can go back to being sated and content without distraction; he was too busy to keep entertaining this disgusting fantasy of fucking you every day and night. Just one more sentence to freedom.

A hot puff of air in your ear before a deep raspy voice hisses, “Now tell me I’m big and strong and I’ll let you go.” Your eyes widen as you look in confusion at the mat, his face behind you as you chest was still glued to the mat thanks to his weight.

“T-tell you what?”

“Say ‘you’re too big and strong for me, Miguel.’” A roll of the hips.

“No! I can still win!” you buck back harder, hips shifting hard between his groin and the mat to try and get out. Your nails sink into his forearms but he doesn’t move. You can’t get out until you say it. It’s a shameful dawn of emotion that wounds your pride. But you can get stronger, spar with him more, until you can beat him - powers or no powers.

“Say it and you can go.” The wriggling winds down as time stretches, you finally going limp and panting on the mat with his weight still crushing you.

A gulp.

Softer than a whisper, “You’re so big and strong, Miguel…”

The cum spurts into his briefs, inevitably ruining them and leaving a wet spot in the pants. You’re too tired, limp, to feel his clothed dick twitch against your pussy through the shorts.

You don’t even feel happy when he clumbers off you; in your universe you were a master of the arts and your powers only enhanced this great feat. Yet, you still lost to your boss. You want a rematch.

No.

You need a rematch.

He clumbers away, slow heavy footfalls and low panting breaths as he strides to the exit of the personal training room. Sitting back on your heels still panting but back to him as he walked away you find enough energy to ask: “Same time next week, Miguel?”

You’ll win. You’ll run a million miles, do a thousand crunches, and eat your weight - no, Miguel’s weight in protein and come out victorious next week as you always do. Just because he’s a man it didn’t mean you had no chance: it only meant you had to work harder.

Quiet. He’s panting though, you hear it, but the strain in his voice isn’t just from the spar: “Same time next week.”

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hope yall likedd feel free to leave requests or anything in my inbox! its p empty rn - I have a hobie fic coming next <3

[sunnyie-eve]

4 | You're an eight

Series: Uttermost Lifestyle

Paring: Johnny Knoxville x Original female character

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None

| MASTERLIST |

Today Johnny was filming the cup test and Caiden couldn't be so happy to be part of the first test. "Caiden, how are you feeling about kicking Johnny?" Jeff asks as we were getting filmed.

"Excited." He laughs.

"It's just because he gets to be on tv. He's friends parents watch so, yeah." I laugh messing up his hair.

"Yeah, I was scared that he hated me when he volunteered quickly when I told him about it. But his mother let me know the truth." Johnny comes over resting on him.

"Me hate you? Never." Caiden walks off making me laugh.

"He kicks hard by the way." I pat Johnny on the back.

Johnny explains to all the kids what to do and everything. "I'm Johnny Knoxville and this is the cup test.

We all kept laughing as each kid took there turn. "Cai, don't kick too hard pleasure." Johnny begs him so I rush over to Caiden.

"Picture Kyle. It will be good for the show." I whisper to him so he nods his head.

"What did you say?! He just went into kill mood?" Johnny panics as Caiden gets ready to kick him.

As soon as his foot makes contact Johnny goes down to both knees. "Sorry." Caiden tells him helping him up.

While he talks about the kids the crew starts setting up for test two. "I can keep watching right?" Caiden asks so I nod my head.

"Give this to Johnny." A crew member gives me a helmet so I take it.

"After theses test I don't think Madison will ever get siblings in the future." I hand him the helmet.

"I'll be fine." He walks over to his spot.

"He's stupid." Caiden looks up at me making me laugh loudly.

"Older guys are. You'll probably go though the stupid idea phase too." I lean down kissing the top of his head before putting my hands on his shoulder as we watch Johnny get hitting by the balls.

"Wait, I gotta get everything in there. I don't want anything sneaking out the side and getting pinched." Johnny fixes himself for test three.

Jeff ends up missing three times making Johnny throw the ball back like he said he would. "Can I try?" I ask making Johnny give me a look.

"Do you suddenly hate me too?" He asks as Jeff hands me the croquet mallet.

"No." I give him a smile.

"When you follow through, follow through with the head towards my crotch." Johnny gives me pointers.

"I don't need help." I say hitting the ball getting him. "One more?" I asks and Jeff tells me yes.

"But you gotta be, not be such a fucking girl and... and hit it." He says so I hit it hard missing making him yell.

"Alex!" He throws the ball at me as I run away.

"What you said don't hit like a fucking girl so I just went for it." I walk back towards him.

The sledgehammer test made Caiden even feel the pain just by watching it. The paintball hurt him more than I thought it would, and for the 8 ball we join the others on the roof.

"You look great Johnny. That will definitely help you pick up many ladies." I laugh at him from above.

"On the scale 1 to 10 according to your preference?" He looks up at me.

"Eight, lose the pants completely. You walk like a toddler with poop in their pants, so it takes you down from the nine I would have givin you." I laugh as he sits down.

When Jeff goes he misses hitting him in the thigh. When they throw the ball back up it doesn't make it so it goes back down hitting him on the shin breaking skin. They throw the ball back up and Jeff hands it to me.

I aim to it to where it looks perfect for me, "Here it comes." I let him know as I drop it. It gets him perfectly so when he lays down we start to drop eggs on him.

"I feel bad but at the same time I don't because it's good for the show." I join Johnny down below.

"It's okay, I still love you and Caiden." He puts an arm around me shaking me. "So if I'm a eight dressed like this... what about normal?" He lets go of me.

"9.99 because you're dumb at times..." I give him a wink going over to Caiden talking to Jeff.

~

"Why haven't you done any bits hurting yourself?" Chris laughs at me as we get wait for his stunt.

"My doctor wants me to take a break. I pulled a rib muscle because of Kyle." I tell him.

"Kyle?!" He shouts so I cover his mouth.

"Yeah, he broke in but luckily Caiden was as a friend's place thankfully." I say like it was nothing.

"I when did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?" He gets worried.

"It was like a week ago. I didn't tell you because I'm okay." I place my hand on his shoulder.

"You need to move." He says making me laugh.

"With what money? I still don't have enough for a new place. And moving won't stop him. He'll find out somehow." I stop taking at the camera comes over so I leave.

When Chris gets dressed up we ask if he's nervous and he says in a way because a big dog is gonna attack him.

"Do you have a cup on?" I ask him.

"No." He tells us.

"Do you train some dogs specifically to go for the balls?" Johnny asks the trainer.

"No, but some have a tendency to go for it." He tells us.

"Good luck, babe." I joke with Chris as he walks away out to the middle of the yard.

"Pontius, get closer! Pontius! Get closer to the dog. Like... 15 feet." Johnny tells him and we laugh as he runs.

The third time around the dog gets the bunny head off him making us worried and stop it.

"How did it feel?" I ask.

"That dog has got fucked up teeth, man. But really, you don't wanna be attacked by him." Chris tells us.

"We're you scared when it hit your bunny head off?" Johnny asks him.

"Fuck, yeah. That dog can bite so hard. You can just- you can feel it through the suit so good." He tells us starting to take off the suit.

As I was chatting with some of the crew Johnny comes up pulling me aside confusing me. "What?" I ask him.

"Chris told me." He said making me sigh.

"Why? Why tell you?" I start to walk away but he pulls me back.

"Because I'm a close friend that knows how shitty he is. I know the story just like him. No one else in the cast knows like us two." He keeps a hold of my arm.

"But still why do you need to know? If I wanted you to know, I would have told you."

"Because I care! Chris knows that. We've gotten close and I worry about you and Caiden. I've seen how Kyle looks at you two from a distance and it's not good. What he did to Caiden is not good." He says making me tilt my head.

"He told you what makes him terrified of him?"

"Yes, when you dropped him off at my place for your stupid date, with a guy you knew from your old job, you didn't even wanna go on. We were having a good time and he opened up to me. I told him he should talk to you about but he's not ready yet. He's worried how you would react and I promised not to tell you. I don't wanna lose that trust and connection I made with him that night." He lets go of my arm.

I didn't even know I had tears slowly rolling down my face till he wiped them away for me. "Is it that bad?"

"What he did to Caiden... I'm scared he would the same to you and worse. So hearing he broke in and you pulled a rip muscle... I'm concerned about your safety. You and Caiden need to move in with me until we can get you a new place than that shitty ass apartment." He says making me want to cry more.

"I can't do that." I shake my head.

"Yes, you can. I have two extra rooms for the two of you. Having you both won't be any trouble. I wanna help a friend I care about." He gives me a smile.

"We don't know how long we could end up staying with you."

"Stay as long as you need, I don't care. It's just me and Madison some times. There's no one in my life that would have a problem with you living with me." He laughs.

"Johnny..." He stops me.

"No, we're moving you both as soon as we get back." He says before walking away.

I just watch him walk away thinking to myself how did I end up having someone else that cares about me like Chris. Technically a little more caring than Chris.

[dandylovesturtles]

For the fan fic writers asks:

10. Ctrl+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

42. What's the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

76. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of I May Be Invisible, But I Still Look Good? 

10. Ctrl+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

He blinks, then turns to look at the bones. “Father…?” he asks. Father is part of family.

Yeah I'm not giving any context for that.

Fun fact: "blinks" was not actually in any of the WIPs I have written for anything coming out in the next few months so yeah you get this random thing that I wrote on a whim instead, sorry.

42. What's the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

According to my AO3 history the last thing I read was actually a reread of Worth it for the Laughter lol (the timing)

And yes I absolutely recommend it! It's so cute (for those who don't know, it's about Leo getting his wisdom teeth out).

My favorite part of this fic is when Draxum calls Leo stupid and Donnie kicks him in the shin. ^^

As for last fic I read that wasn't a reread (or something getting updated with a new chapter), it was to thine own self by true by inkandstone, which is actually a 2012 fic about Donnie using a truth serum on an unwilling Mikey. I haven't watched 2012, it just got recced in one of the discord servers and I decided to read it lol. It was good though! I love "truth potion gone wrong" scenarios.

cw: someone does get outed against their will in this fic

76. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of I May Be Invisible, But I Still Look Good? 

A few! Maybe the biggest one is a whole subplot I cut concerning the fire elemental (the one Donnie almost kills). While I had that particular moment in mind for a long time, originally the resolution to that moment was going to be the reveal that the fire elemental wasn't actually going along with the plot to revive the Witch of the Depths entirely willingly, but rather their family had been forced into it. the fire elemental would reveal that their own sibling had also been cursed by the charm, and it was their body that would be used to house the Witch's soul. The fire elemental was then going to give Donnie the spell, one sibling just trying to help their family to another, and later on in the final fight the fire elemental would come to their aid.

This subplot ended up being too unwieldy and didn't really contribute much to the actual themes and plot so in the end the fire elemental became some cult follower like the rest of them who got so scared by Donnie they peaced right out.

Btw to be clear, even though we will see some other fire elementals in the final fight (as I alluded to with Big Mama's warning in chapter 14), none of them are that specific fire elemental. Donnie scared off their proverbial pants and they're never coming back lol

[buckgasms]

req/idea- bucky using a vibrator on himself for the first time

Ok so Nonnie, my beautiful amazing Nonnie. You didn't specify a setting for this so I'm hoping that the route I've gone down still gets you where you wanna go.

Ask box is always open

Warnings: Dom/Sub vibes; Daddy Bucky; vibrators; Reader made to watch Bucky get his rocks off; spanking mentioned;

Enjoy

------------------------💞----------------------

You had been a very naughty girl. You'd teased your daddy non-stop all day and now you had to live with the consequences.

When he had finally managed to get you back to the apartment, he had pressed you into the door, hand around your throat while his other ripped your panties off and you realised what an absolutely stupid fool you were.

20 minutes later, your ass had been spanked raw, you had cried, made all kinds of promises and begged for that dick, but Bucky was having none of it.

"You wanted to be a silly slut all day, that's what you're gonna be all night." He said as he sat you in his usual velvet covered seat that pointed towards the foot of the bed. Normally Bucky sat here and you were perched on his lap, or knelt between his knees. Not tonight. He popped you down, the fabric doing little to soothe your sore bottom.

He grabbed your chin so you were looking right at him. "If you hands go anywhere near your pussy you wont be able to sit for a week." You nodded as he wiped your face of lingering tears and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Only when you whispered "yes daddy" did he let go and settled himself on the large bed. You watched as he picked up the large vibrator wand, one of your absolute favourite toys. You whined but stopped quickly with a look from him.

"I've never actually tried one of these before y'know? I mean I've seen you fucking cry on this thing, is it really that good babygirl?"

You blushed and nodded at him, making him chuckle. "Well I doubt it'll turn me into a mess like you Princess, but I'll see huh? Seeing as you can't be fucking trusted to behave, you're gonna sit there and watch me use your favourite toy on my dick and miss out on getting daddy's cum. That should teach you a lesson hey sweetheart?"

You whined, tears welling in your eyes. You couldn't deny you had been bad, but fuck if this was the worst thing you would ever have to endure. "Daddy...please I'm so sorry. Learned my lesson.... Please?"

He laughed again, flicking the wand to life and shook his head. "Nice try silly baby, but you gotta sit there and let daddy have his fun now..."

Your mouth watered as he ran it up and down his length. He growled and let his head drop back as the vibrations pulsed through his hard cock. He could hear you whimpering in the background, only adding to his pleasure. Obviously he'd rather be fucking you, but you had to learn your lesson.

Your eyes were as wide as dinner plates as you watched him press the head to his balls, and he actually twitched as the buzz rippled through his body.

"Fuck babygirl, I can see why you like this so much..." He lifted his head back up and looked at you. Your eyes were glued to his cock, face stained with tears and your fingers were white from gripping the arms of the chair. "You want your toy back princess?" You shook your head and whispered "cock daddy, want your cock, please.... Be such a good girl....please?"

He groaned as the sweet sound of your begging and the vibrations created an ache in him, bringing him right to the edge of release. You watched as he teased his head, heard him growl and curse as he came, covering the wand with his release.

The low hum ceased and his stomach raised and fell as he panted. You were desperate to get your hands on him, run your fingers through the hair on his chest, kiss him all over and be his good girl again.

He sat up and beckoned you over. You sprang up and crawled onto the bed, settling between his thighs, tentativley running your fingers along his shin.

"You gonna be a good girl from now on?"

"Yes daddy"

"You gonna be a silly slut when I'm working again?"

"No daddy, never" you promised.

He smiled and stroked your cheek, pulling you in for a soft kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him harder, desperate for his touch, to feel anything of him.

When you surfaced for air he waved the wand at you, still dripping with his cum. "Clean this up for me baby, if you do a good job, might let you watch me again."

[tsuy4n]

Permission granted

Warning/s: MDNI, Fem!reader, Somnophilia, slight fluff, healthy relationship(s) is just a must, implied pussy eating, mention of masturbation, vaginal sex, pet names, unprotected sex,

A/n: first of all, I almost had a stroke while editing that pic. anyways! Been a while, hello I’m back again with another fic but it’s about my good man Shin 🥴 finally got to write a story even if it’s a oneshot for him! Been wanting to write one for him ever since I saw him and managed to see his animated figure 👌

“Shin?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“If you wake up…” you trail while watching his adam’s apple bob as he drinks his favorite drink, cola. “But I’m still asleep and you’re horny, you know that you can touch me or even fuck me in that state, right?”

Finished with what you wanted to say, Shinichiro’s only reaction was choking on his drink that it made him cough several times and then he proceeds to look at you with wide eyes and a look of disbelief yet his cheeks were a bit red.

“H-How could I even do that to y-you without your permission??” He stuttered so cutely that it made you look at him fondly but with a mischievous smirk.

“That’s why I’m telling you in advance.” You take his drink and put it down on the table in front of you both. “Wouldn’t want my baby to suffer.” Looking at with sultry eyes, you climb and sit on his lap already feeling the bulge in his pants.

Shinichiro was so cute — adorable. He kept blabbering and stuttering as his face continues to heat up, turn even more red while you start to slowly move your hips and grind your ass on his clothed dick, eliciting a guttural groan from your dear boyfriend.

“You looked like you were having a hard time taking care of yourself last night, you know?” His hands went to your moving hips and you could feel himself trying to hold back but with the slight buck of his hips into yours failed him already.

“You know what I’m talking about, right?” You whispered deeply into his ear. “You in the bathroom, touching your dick and looking all desperate while calling my name…” you hear him curse under his breath when you pressed your lower part on his a bit harder.

“Didn’t wanna disturb your sleep, baby…” he says. You caress his cheek then wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulls you into a breathy kiss. “Oh, you’re such a sweet and considerate man.” You say between kisses while his hands starts to roam your body in a feathery touch.

“This is why I love you.” Shinichiro gently lays you down on the couch and kisses your forehead before making eye contact with you loving eyes.

“Love you, too.” Beaming a smile, you peck his lips and swiftly get yourself out under him. “Let’s get to sleep, love!” Leaving his speechless or baffled state, you giggle as you head to your shared room.

You were sleeping but the electrifying pleasure you felt woke you up, though your eyes still remained shut and you could feel yourself trembling, especially your legs as your toes curled or tense up.

You felt something on your lower region, something hot and wet. At first It kept licking and slurping, the loud wet noises resonating in the not so quiet room turned you on even more, especially when it suddenly entered inside. It felt so good that it made you moan.

Then the said noises stopped, except for the breathy one sounds. You felt something hard poking your entrance this time, it was throbbing as it went inside slowly. It was hot, stiff, hard, thick and long.

“You awake, baby?” After fluttering your eyes open, you saw none other than your body on top. “Sorry for disturbing you, couldn’t stop thinking about what you said earlier.” Shin says then came a small moan from him next.

“And frankly, it’s your fault for leaving so suddenly when you got me so hard..” slowly moving his hips and licking his lips, you reach for his cheek and smirked with half lidded eyes.

“Take responsibility, love.” Giggling, you open your mouth and suck his thumb without breaking eye contact but not before whispering something to him in a seductive manner that made him go feral and start fuck you into oblivion.

“By all means, go ahead.”

[hertzwritings]

Clothes

A/N: WELP, I might be developing arthritis in my fingers from all the typing, but I DON’T CARE. I am literally so happy that you guys are involved with my stuff, and I constantly look at replies, reblogs and screenshots of asks, because they make me feel all giddy and happy. Anyway, onwards with the prompts! Also this prompt was requested by the sweet @daughterofautumn​ – THANK YOU.

Prompt: “Undress or I’ll do it for you.”

 You can buy me a coffee here and I’ll write you a personalized drabble, one-shot or multichapter fic. It would help me immensely, because bills are a bitch and I have to buy diapers and food. Seriously, anything can help.

 Love y’all so much! Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine in particular) and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits, because I am me and I have none.

 MASTERLIST

PROMPTLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

 Pairing: Henry Cavill x Plus sized!female reader

Contains: Language, fluff, smut (18+, MINORS DNI), fingering, p in v, oral (f + m receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public sex, cream-pie, praise kink, loving, fluffy, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, slight dirty talk, SEXUAL TENSION UP THE HOOHA

W.C.: 4.496 (sorry)

 Clothes

 “Henry, move again and I’ll stab you on purpose.” He chuckled but kept still - arms out and his eyebrow cocked at you. You shook your head and began slowly pinning the pants, so they kept the shape, hoping to God that this was the last pair you had to fix. “You should stop working out so much. I’ve never had to repair this many pairs of leather pants before.” You grumbled, smoothing the fabric over his shin to make sure it sat right. It was the fourth pair over the last two weeks alone, he had misshaped with his stupidly thick thighs. “Please, you love my company. And thighs.” He said with a small laugh. Well, yes, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “Remind me to tell budgeting that we need like… A million just for leather, so I can make new pants every hour.” You grinned at him and stood up, looking over your handiwork. They’d fit if he didn’t do squats in them. “Thank you. You’re literally magic.” He said softly. His eyes were full of praise, and you felt heat radiating from your cheeks. “Oh, pish, posh. It’s my job, Henry. I should be thankful that you keep mucking up your costumes, so I can keep working, really.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” Silence fell between you, and you glanced at the clock. “Shit, you need to go. Get behind the partition and slowly take the pants off. I will not hesitate to murder you if you get a single pin out of its place.” You said, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Yes, ma’am.” He stepped down from the podium and went behind the partition; he was tall enough for his head to stick out on top. “Any fun plans for the night?” He asked, bending down. You tried not to think too much about what he wasn’t wearing right now (“I can’t wear briefs underneath these pants, the lines are too obvious!”) and answered with a somewhat level voice. “Oh, uh… Nothing, actually.” You licked your lips and his head shot up, eyes locking on you. “Wait, didn’t you have a thing with the…” He pursed his lips. “What’s-his-name?” You rolled your eyes. “Roger. And I did, but he… Yeah, no, it didn’t work out. He would much rather only see me in private.” You sighed. “What?” He asked. “Well, I think his words were something along the lines of… We have fun, but you’re just not one you’d take for a stroll through the city, are you? But you’re super sexy… Ish.” You grimaced. “Holy shit.” You nodded, although he couldn’t see you. “It is what it is. I dumped him, and here I am.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” He said with a shit-eating grin, not looking sorry at all before stepping out, now dressed again, and handed you the pants; he towered over you, and you tried your best to keep yourself in line. “It is… It’s not like I would have time to date at any rate, I’m here all the time.” You shrugged. It wasn’t a lie. “Well… I guess it’s a good thing, then.” He said, gathering his swords. “Why is my lack of a love-life a good thing?” You asked with a smile. He turned to face you, and his thumb stroked down your cheekbone in a way, that made your breath hitch and knees wobble. “Then I get to keep you around.” He winked at you. “See you later!”

 Your strange, sort of flirty friendship with Henry had started the same day, you began working on set. You had walked into the wardrobe-trailer, hands full of yards of fabric for a new dress, and nearly tumbled to the ground, when you ran straight into a very firm body. Henry had caught you with a hand around your waist. “Thank you for catching me.” You said breathlessly, not even trying to get back on your feet. “If I’m the cause of you falling like this…” He grinned. “Anytime, darling.”

And thus, a friendship was born. You didn’t fool yourself into thinking there was anything in it from his side other than casual friendship – especially after he had brought a woman to set once, his arm locked around her at all times, he wasn’t in a scene. She was the size of a stick, and wonderfully fit, which stood in stark contrast to your own body; you felt lumpy at the best times, and like an absolute piece of blob at the worst times. It was fine, really. You could be happy enough for what you did have with Henry because he was an absolute joy to be around. He was laid back, funny as hell and attentive – every time there was a late-night shoot, he brought you coffee and some kind of snack, he had made himself. Cookies, brownies, anything really, and he did it just because he wanted to. At least, that’s what he said. You wondered a few times if it was because of your body, he only brought sugary snacks, but quickly learned that the man himself had the biggest sweet tooth, you’d ever seen. He could inhale a whole tray of brownies in less than two minutes, and he carried gummies in his costumes, which you had scolded him for once, when he had been a little too closer to a bonfire and the gummies had practically melted into the leather.

He spent a lot of time in your trailer. At first, there was issues with his armor. Then something got messed up. Then he had accidentally fallen on his beautiful ass in a puddle of mud, and then, when he ran out of excuses, he just said that he wanted to be somewhere he felt comfortable. It was nice. He was nice.

“Y/N?” A voice called from the very back of the trailer. “Yeah, I’m in front!” You called back, waiting for Abby to come out of the many layers of clothing on racks. Her hair was a mess and she looked like she was about to collapse, carrying five different costumes carefully. “God, sometimes I think I should’ve chosen a different career path. I’m dying.” She grumbled, laying the costumes on the work bench, straightening up and rubbing her round belly. “Abby, you know you can just call for me, and I’ll do all that. That’s like… 80 % of my job.” You said with a small smile, gently coercing her to a chair. She sat down with a grunt and closed her eyes. “You’re lucky you get off so early today.” “Oh, you’ve got another night?” You asked sympathetically. She nodded. “Abby, I’m serious… You’re seven months pregnant, you shouldn’t be working lates.” She opened one eye to look at you. “I don’t have any plans, it’s supposed to be pickups and I really wouldn’t mind taking the shift.” “Are you sure? Every time we say it’s going to be pickups, they end up overloading us. I wouldn’t want to leave you behind…” You waved your hand at her. “Stop it. I’m capable. At most things, actually. I think I can handle one late shoot.” She smiled gratefully. “Thank you. Really, Y/N, you’re a lifesaver.” You shrugged. “No problem. Go home, Abby, I don’t want you to overwork yourself and push a kid out in the wardrobe trailer.” You grinned at her and helped her to her feet. She hugged you. “I’ll be back on Monday, okay?” You nodded. “And if there’s any issues, call me…” “Abby. I’m not going to call you. I have both Pieter and Susan on emergency, if a problem should arise.” She sighed. “Fine. Okay, enjoy your weekend of work!” You waved her off with a laugh, pulling the iron out of the closet.

 You had been wrong. It was indeed a late night, but it was extremely busy. Apparently, every single costume had decided to break, or the team wanted last minute changes, and you were working triple-time. You were sweating, breathing like you had just run a damn marathon and your eyes were growing weary, when they finally called wrap.

You were absolutely done, but the universe had different ideas.

“Y/N, sorry to keep you, but Henry’s damned shirt ripped again.” You whined. “Nooooo…. I was just going home!” You wanted to cry. “It can’t wait until tomorrow?” The P.A looked at you with I’m sorry written all over their face. “Sorry, honey. He’ll be here in five.” You waved your hand. “Yeah, yeah…”   You stomped around the trailer, gathering the supplies and muttering to yourself, when the door swung open again and a muddy, slightly tired Henry stepped inside, resting his swords on the side of the work bench, and made to step further inside. “Hold it. You are not walking in here, among silk with those damned boots on.” You pointed at them, covered in mud that still dripped slowly from the top. His wig was off, but he was still covered in the makeup, a few lines of fake blood and dirt on his cheekbones and chin. “Sorry.” He quickly pulled them off and threw them outside. “All good?” “Fine. You can come up here.” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Are you okay, love?” He asked worriedly, as he stepped up on the podium. “Long day. Lot of work. Not enough hands.” You looked at him with a tired smile. “If I have to fix your shirt, you need the armor off.” He just held his arms out. “Henry…” He looked at you with a smirk. “Undress, or I’ll do it for you.” You threatened. “Is that a promise?” He asked, his voice lower than before. You grunted and got on your knees, slowly unfastening the different clasps and strings along the armor on his legs, pulling them off one by one. He cleared his throat when your fingers grazed his inner thigh. “Damn it, I can’t get to the last ones without doing the top…” You sighed. “Okay, just… Hold your arms out, I want to go home.” You said with a yawn, and thankfully, Henry listened – you might be tired, and you may not be in the mood for anything, but you were painfully aware of how close you were going to have to be to him, and how great he smelled. It was actually kind of rude to smell that nice, like pine-trees and vanilla, when he’d been running around set, swinging swords in the mud. “How did you, uh… Ruin the shirt?” You asked, looking everywhere but his eyes. If you caught his eyes, you were not going to be able to control yourself, and you were just friends. “I’ll let you in on a secret.” He whispered, his lips dangerously close to your ear, as your fingers slowly untied two strings, holding his shoulder piece in place. Your breathing was shallow. “Oh?” You were whispering too, now. “I didn’t. I just wanted an excuse to come over here.” You swallowed thickly and removed another piece, the strings falling limply from your fingers. Heat was radiating off of him. “Then… Why am I removing your armor?” You asked breathlessly. His arms curled, the sound of leather straining against leather echoing in your ears, and they finally embraced you tentatively, fingers resting on the small of your back. “Because you wanted to see me too.” He answered confidently. You didn’t know what to say to that. You unclasped one of the clasps along his ribcage, opening the armor a sliver. You could feel his warm skin under the thin layer of his shirt. “And… I think that maybe…” His fingers were warm against your lower back, slowly scrunching the fabric of your dress. “You’ve been too scared to say anything.” “You haven’t either.” You replied. The tension was thick enough to leave a tangy taste on your tongue as pieces of his armor fell away from his body, leaving more and more of him exposed; or, at least, in a very thin shirt and leather pants. “No, I haven’t.” You still couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I suppose I was… Worried.” He drew a deep breath, when the final piece of his armor fell away, thudding loudly on the floor between your feet. “About?” You asked feebly. He drew a little closer, barely noticeable to the outside world, but to you? It felt as if he had traveled an insurmountable distance, the damned earth had shifted and shrunk and widened all at the same time. “You. Me. How you see me. How I didn’t want to ruin a friendship.” Your fingers were playing with the buttons on his shirts, not really sure if you should unbutton them. “And? What did you…?” You trailed off. You didn’t know if you really wanted the answer. “I would sell my soul to the devil himself, if that meant I could have you for just a minute. That’s what I found out.” You closed your eyes at his confession. “Henry, I…” You bit your lip. “I’m…”   “What? You’re what? Too beautiful, too real, too…” His one hand found your cheek, cupping it. “Entirely too good for me? Trust me, I’ve already thought about it. But I am, at heart, a very stubborn man, and I have a very hard time letting go of something so beautiful.” You finally found the strength to look at him and wish you hadn’t.

His eyes were burning hotly into you, darkened and deep – you wanted to die. This was too much. “No, Henry. I’m… Not…” You sighed. You still held on to each other. “I’m not what you want, not really.” “Why?” You swallowed. “I just… Aren’t.” he sighed and the hand, that cupped your face, pulled you an inch closer to him. You were craning your neck to keep looking at his eyes. “Darling, you are everything to me. Everything. All you are, all you’ll ever be… The very air you breathe makes me dizzy. I get that it’s intimidating, and trust me, I know what’s going on in that pretty, little head of yours. We’ve been friends for long enough for me to confidently say that you’re overthinking it. How we would look. How you look. I can’t take that away from you, but I can say…” He leaned in a little closer. “I don’t care. You’re the most beautiful person, I’ve ever had the joy of laying my eyes on, inside and out. If you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life worshipping everything about you.” You didn’t know what to say. Nor did you really think there was anything to say, so you did the next best thing.

 Your fingers moved from the buttons on his shirt to his waist, fingers nimbly undoing the strings, holding his pants in place, your eyes locked on his. “Y/N, what are you…” “Sh. Just… Sh.” You whispered, the strings coming loose under your fingers. The pants fell to the ground around his ankles in a whisper, and your fingers moved back to the buttons on his shirt, his breath hitching when your fingers began unbuttoning them – your hands were surprisingly steady. He complied, and moved his arms over his head, as you slowly pulled the shirt over his head, his hair and beyond his fingertips, throwing it to the side.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, and then his hands moved to the straps of your dress, slowly, while his eyes were boring into yours, he gently moved them down your arms. The dress fell from your chest, and without looking, he found the zipper on your ribcage, slowly dragging it down until your dress sagged a little, and he could move it further down your body.

It was entrancing to look at him; you were swimming in an ocean of him, as his fingers led the dress fall in a heap around your feet and then moved to your back, undoing your bra. You sucked in a sharp breath when it fell from your body.

It would seem that that was all it took.

His lips found yours in a feverish desire, slotting over yours perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together perfectly. His lips slid against your bottom lip, begging silently for entrance; you granted it, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he groaned against the kiss, your bodies flush against each other. His tongue was sinful, making you whimper into the kiss, and his hands found your ass, cupping it, before he lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his hips, and felt his hard cock nudge your thigh. It made you gasp and he chuckled against your lips, his teeth grazing your bottom lip now that his tongue was withdrawn, and tugged it gently. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough to quell the fire that was raging in you, and you gasped, holding him tighter as he walked from the podium to the small couch next to it, sitting down and letting you straddle him. You bit his lip, tugging it with a little more force than he had, showing him what you needed. “Oh, you like it rough, love?” He asked breathlessly, his fingertips still burning against your ass. You nodded. “Yes.” You might have had an inkling to how he liked it, but it was nothing against the raw desire and ferocity that overtook him. He growled, placing his lips back on yours and moved swiftly, laying you down on your back as his fingers moved to the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs. His lips left yours, leaving wet trails along your neck and collarbone, until they latched on your nipple, tongue swirling against it. “Oh…” You moaned and arched your back, pressing your chest up to meet his lips. His teeth found it and bit down gently, drawing a moan from your lips, that sounded strangely like his name, and your hands grabbed his hair, tugging it roughly. You needed more. He chuckled against your chest and moved from your nipple to your stomach, making sure he kissed every inch of it, before he moved further down. You gasped when his tongue licked a long stripe against your folds, his fingers digging into your soft flesh on your thighs and you could’ve died right there.

“Fuck, you taste amazing…” He grumbled before he lost all control, eating you like a man possessed. His tongue danced across your clit, sending shivers down your spine, and his right hand moved to your dripping hole, letting two fingers slide inside of you as he licked you. Your back arched and you whined at the feeling of his fingers moving inside of you. It was heaven.

He moaned against your clit, the vibrations sending you into overdrive; you had never in your life been this aroused before, and you could feel how damned close you already were. “Henry…” You whispered his name like a prayer, and he sped up, your walls fluttering around his fingers. You were rolling your hips to meet his movements and when you caught his eyes, looking up at you while a smirk rested on his lips as he licked a fat, hard strip against you, your orgasm came.

Waves of pleasure rippled through your body, every nerve screaming his name as you came on his tongue, lips and fingers; he was moaning along with you, lapping up everything you gave him. Your toes were curling and you writhed as your orgasm ripped through you.

When you could see straight again, you tugged his hair to bring him up again; his fingers were still working you, but he happily kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’re so fucking good, Y/N… So good for me…” His praise made you preen, and your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Please… I want to taste you…” You hadn’t even looked at him naked yet, and you wanted to see him and feel his cock on your tongue. “You’re going to be the death of me, love.” He whispered against your lips, before drawing back and sitting down on the couch.

You slid to your knees and moved to sit in front of him, practically drooling over the sight in front of you.

His cock was leaking precum, throbbing slightly; it was large, larger than you’d ever been with before, and a pulsing vein ran along the underside, that was begging to be licked. He stared at you with lust-blown eyes, and you smirked at him before your tongue darted out and licked a stripe against the vein. He moaned and whispered a small fuck when you sucked on his head, tasting his precum.

You slowly inched down on him, taking as much as you could before he hit the back of your throat. He twitched and forced himself a little deeper. You gagged. “Shit, Y/N…” You shot him a wink and grasped his thigh, letting him know it was okay. You wanted this. You needed to feel him.

He groaned and sat up straighter, a hand falling on your hair. “Is this okay?” You nodded as much as you could with your mouth occupied. He grinned wickedly at you. “Good girl… Taking so much of me.” He slowly pressed you down, letting you gag around him. “You can do more, love.” Your pussy clenched around nothing, and you felt the wetness between your thighs at his words. He slowly moved your head down his cock, twitching slightly when he hit the back of your throat. You moaned at the feeling, and you could see the moment, Henry snapped completely.

His eyes darkened and he rolled his hips, thrusting into your mouth, slowly beginning to fuck your mouth. It was the most erotic sight, you’d ever seen – his lips twitching as he fucked into your mouth, his eyes trained on your lips and small moans tumbling from his lips.

“Fuck, you feel fucking amazing… You take me so well, baby… Such a good girl for me.” He grunted and you preened under his praise, hollowing your cheeks and meeting his thrusts; he groaned and stilled, pulling out of your mouth, a string of spit connecting you to him. “Henry, what…?” your voice was hoarse. He kissed you and smiled. “I’m not coming in your mouth today, love.” He gently guided you to straddle him again, and lined himself up with your waiting, dripping core, coating his cock in your slick. “Are you sure…” “Henry, take me.” You whispered, desperate for him inside of you. He didn’t need to be told twice, and adjusted a little, and let his tip sink inside your warmth. You both moaned as you sunk down on him, taking him completely; he filled you so much that it was nearly uncomfortable, but you didn’t care – it was too good, so much more than you had ever imagined and when his head nudged your cervix, you damn near collapsed. He wasn’t faring any better; he held you tightly, groaning at the feeling of you and he thrusted up once, making you whimper. Something came over him, and you felt the shift in the air; he wasn’t going to be gentle.

“Fuck, you…” He grunted and slammed his hips to meet you, his cock moving at an impossible speed, as you moved your own hips – you were fucking each other, his hand on your ass and one in your hair, tugging you back slightly to expose your neck to him. He bit and licked at your sensitive skin as the sounds of your skin slapping against each other filled the trailer. “You’re taking me so… ugh… So well, love.” You moaned and your hips stuttered, your second orgasm building faster than you could keep up with. “Are you going to cum, love? Make a mess out of me?” You nodded. “Oh, there’s my good girl… Atta, girl…” He mumbled against your skin. “Fucking clench down on me, milk me, love… I want to feel you cum on me…” You lost it at his words. Your orgasm erupted like a surge of power out of you, stars colliding behind your eyes as you screamed his name, your pussy clenching down on him.

“Fuck, I’m going to… Shit, can I cum in you?” He was gasping now, as he fucked you through your orgasm – you were mewling, barely coherent, but you did manage to get a fuck yes out while waves of pleasure rolled against you.

“I’m going to fill you… Fuck, Y/N!” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, forcing you down as far as you could go, and you felt the warmth of him filling you; you moaned at the feeling, grinding against him, milking him for whatever he had.

“I’m so sorry, you came so fucking hard, I couldn’t…” You kissed him to shut him up. “Stop it, it was perfect.” You mumbled against his lips. He chuckled and slowly laid you down, wrapping you in his arms.

“I’ll promise that the next time will be a lot longer.” You smiled against his chest, feeling your pussy pulse in feeble aftershocks, and his spend leaking out of you slowly. “So there’s going to be a next time?” You asked. “Oh, and a time after that, and after that… I’m planning on ruining you for the rest of your life, love.” He said, kissing your damp hair. “I’m not willingly letting you go, you know.” You grinned. “Good thing I’m not planning on it, then.” He chuckled. “Henry?” Your voice was tired. “Hm?” “Uh, what… Does this mean for, you know… Us?” you asked in a small voice, hoping this wasn’t another one of the “I’m keeping you a secret”-deals, because your heart couldn’t handle it. “What do you mean? I’m planning on ravishing you, and when I’m not doing that, I’ll be parading you around. Trust me, you’ll get tired of me really quickly.” He laughed. “I’m going to want everyone to know that you are mine.” He sounded so possessive, it made you clench your thighs.

“Oh.” “Not what you expected?” You shook your head. “I was a little scared that you’d want to keep me a secret.” He lifted your head gently with two fingers under your chin, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Darling, I would never want to hide the best thing in my life away. You are the light that leads the way for me, and I hope you know that. That shouldn’t be snuffed out, and I’ll do my very best to prove that to you.” “I love you.” You blurted it out. You sucked in a sharp breath, hoping to God that you didn’t ruin a good thing. He smiled at you and kissed you so softly, it felt like a butterfly’s heartbeat thrumming. “I love you too, if it wasn’t abundantly clear already.”

-------------------- 

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[seita]

— size kink headcanons 4. [hq!!]

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴀᴏɴᴇ, ғᴜᴛᴀᴋᴜᴄʜɪ, ᴋɪᴛᴀ, ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ, ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ, + sᴜɴᴀ.

⇦ blog navigation.

⇦ part 3 | part 5 ⇨

⤑ 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙙.

»»   ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──────  ««   

-ˏ͛ date techˏ͛-  

— takanobu aone.

≻ he has it but doesn’t know that it’s like an actual kink ≻ he’s always in awe when you take his cock because he knows he’s big ≻ you always beg him to touch your clit while he sinks his cock in ≻ and he loves it because it makes your little pussy flutter around his length ≻ he just loves that he can make you feel so good with his big cock

+

he let out a little breath as he sunk his cock in a little bit more, you had already taken half his length and were still begging for more.

“nobu...” you sighed, eyes fluttering, “touch me, please, it’s too much...”

he grunted, resting his weight on one forearm above your head to dip his other hand between your thighs. he found your clit and circled his fingers around it, feeling your walls squeeze tightly around his length.

you sighed happily, reaching up to grab onto his broad shoulders, “f-feels so good, nobu...you fill me so well...”

he finally bottomed out, resting his face in the crook of your neck as you hugged him close to you. you panted in his ear, whimpering and moaning as he continued to play with your clit until your body tensed up.

with a pleasured squeal, you came, thighs trembling around his waist as your walls gushed and spasmed.

— kenji futakuchi.

≻ he thrives on this shit. ≻ he especially loves when it hurts ≻ it literally gives him a sick sense of pride ≻ watching you struggle to take his cock ≻ boosts his ego ≻ and he will endlessly tease you for it ≻ he knows all the right buttons to push for this kink tbh.

+

“you’re so cute trying to take all my cock,” he teases, grinning at the way your face pinches up the deeper he sinks in.

“k-kenji!” you gasp, pressing your hands against his chest when the stretch becomes too much, your instincts tell you to push him away.

“hey now, none of that,” he chuckles, batting your hands away easily, “you should be grateful when i give you my cock, you know? i make you cum so hard but you want to be all whiny and act like a baby because it hurts.”

“s-sorry...i-it...it’s too big...” you whimper, bringing your hands up to press against his check once again.

he allows them to stay there this time, however, but continues to sink in despite your whining and complaining.

“you take me all the time, though,” he feigns a pout, cock throbbing when you whine as he finally bottoms out, “see? you can do so well when you’re not acting like a little bitch.”

-ˏ͛ inarizakiˏ͛-  

— shinsuke kita.

≻ he likes watching you struggle to take him bc its hot ≻ but he does not like when it hurts you ≻ even if you try to convince him you like when it hurts ≻ he’s not gonna go for it ≻ so a lot of prep goes into it for him ≻ he likes how easily he can make you cum ≻ and how much you have to stretch to accommodate him ≻ he finds it cute

+

you were so wet that you were dripping and you just wanted his cock so bad.

“please, shin,” you begged, arching your hips against his cock as he rutted against your folds, “i’m ready, please fuck me.”

he hummed, fisting his length to tap against your clit, making your thighs shake, “are you sure? i dont want to hurt you.”

“i-it won’t hurt please!” you cry, nearly at your wits end.

if he didn’t give you his cock soon, you were seriously going to go crazy. you had already been made to cum three times and you were just ready to be fucked.

you were about to open your mouth to whine again when he suddenly pressed the fat head of his cock against your entrance, pushing in. he watched your face closely for any signs of pain, his thumb finding your clit to swirl around the bud. your eyes rolled back and you let out a cry of pleasure; he was going so slow, making you feel every inch of him.

he couldn’t contain his smile when he felt the way your body was already trembling. he barely even had to do anything and you were already on edge again for him.

— atsumu miya.

≻ he’s like futakuchi ≻ but a little more cruel about it ≻ he likes to see you cry ≻ and hear you beg that his cock is just too big ≻ all while you tremble and cream on him ≻ he likes to make manipulate you a little bit into taking his cock to “make him proud” and so “you’re a good girl”

+

“you’re so pretty when you’re crying for me,” he chuckles, watching the tears fall down your pretty face, lip tucked between your teeth as he works his thick cock in and out of your cunt, “c’mon, cry more for me. i love it.”

“y-you’re too big, ‘tsumu,” you sob, clutching the front of his shirt in your fists so hard your knuckles were white.

“yeah? does it hurt your little cunt?” he asks, a grin plastered on his face.

you nodded, making him click his tongue in disappointment, “if you’re not even grateful, i shouldn’t even be botherin'. after i was so nice too, makin' you cum on my tongue...but you can’t even let me stuff your pussy like i deserve, huh? too bad...i thought you were gonna be a good girl too.”

you whine, “i am a good girl.”

“yeah? then show me...” he grunts, feeling your juices beginning to drip down h is balls, “and take my cock without whinin’.”

— osamu miya.

≻ he knows his cock is big ≻ but he’s not overly cocky about it ≻ he’s also not very into watching you struggle to take it so much that it hurts ≻ he does, however, enjoy talking dirty to you ≻ about how your cunt looks when its being stuffed full ≻ or how tight you clench around him because he’s just too big.

+

“you’re stretched so far,” he mutters, thumbing your clit as he grinds his hips to bury his length deeper, “does it hurt?”

“n-no!” you moan, “f-feels so good ‘samu...”

he smiles, soft and almost loving, “good, i want you to cum for me, yeah? make a mess like a good girl.”

“fuck,” you keen, arching your hips to try and take even more of him in, even though he had already bottomed out, “please, yes! ‘samu, yo-your cock is s’good...feel so full...”

he chuckles, pulling his cock back before sinking back into you with a gracious roll of his hips. your back arches and your cunt clamps down tight around him.

“you’re such a dirty girl,” he chuckles, beginning to properly fuck you, “begging for a cock too big, close to cumming when i haven’t even done anything...you should be ashamed...” he grins when his mean words make your pussy gush.

— rintarou suna.

≻ he’s sort of a lazy guy ≻ so he lets you use his cock how you want ≻ but ≻ he can’t deny that it fills him with satisfaction knowing how difficult it is for you to take his cock ≻ but he never actually helps you out ≻ he lets you do your thing, wearing a lazy smirk as you gasp when you take too much too fast and have to pop his cock back out to start again

+

although it didn’t feel nearly as good as when you were bouncing on his cock, he appreciated how pretty you looked as you ground yourself down on him. the movements stirred his cock within your walls, allowing him to touch every sweet spot you had.

“did you finally take all of me?” he asks, as if he can’t see or feel the way he’s buried completely within your spasming cunt.

you nod, biting your lip as you let your head fall back with a sigh, “feels good...”

“yeah? why don’t you be good and bounce for me then,” he asked, wearing a smirk that made your heart flutter, “it’s my cock you’re using, you might as well be nice and make me feel good too.”

you brace your hands on his chest and slowly rise up a bit before dropping your weight back down. he reaches even deeper and you can’t help but cry out. he reaches up to wrap his hands around your wrists, keeping your hands pinned down.

“you can do better than that,” he criticized.

determined to please him, you let almost all of his cock out before taking it once more with a quick move of your hips. he bumps your cervix and your body almost collapses as the painful pleasure the action brings.

all the while, he sits back and watches you impale yourself on a cock too big for you.

»»   ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──────  ««  

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.  

[mrskurono]

Kita Shinusuke $30 fee?

A gamble....will it pay off?

$30 in for an Inarizaki alumni and you won....drunk sex with Kita!

tags: fem!reader, pwp, alcohol mention, dubcon (due to alcohol), stupid Kita can't hold his liquor, dirty talk, tit job, cum eating

->Check out the other slot boys and girls <-

Inarizaki get togethers after a certain age were one of two things.

Rowdy dick measuring contests that normally got squashed by Shinsuke's rules. Or they were quiet lunches at Onigiri Miya. The two never overlapped unless one thing was introduced.

Sake.

The only way to get rowdy with the old captain around was to get a few good gulps of sake down him and watch the stoic man come undone. 

Lucky for the old team it was easy to slip him a few drinks here and there with a smile.

Unlucky for you the entire team decided you were gonna be Shinsuke’s babysitter while they turned Onigiri Miya into a private party. 

You tried tea. You tried coffee. You tried stale cracks you found in Osamu’s cupboards. Nothing was sobering this giant man child up after Atsumu and Rin got into over volleyball plays from two seasons ago and slightly forgot how many drinks they’d offered Shinsuke. Leaving you to have a sloppy rice farmer following you like a puppy to the back just to try and sober him up.

 The straw that broke the camels back? Simply the way Shinsuke wouldn’t stop walking when you had stopped in front of him. Giggling in a slurred manner as the ex captain couldn’t help rub up against you. Drunken surely obvious. The hard on in his pants hadn’t been as obvious to you.

“Shin!” You turned around a little surprised.

Rosy from the drinks or from embarrassment, you weren’t sure. But the way he looked down and palmed himself was pathetic even for him, “’m sorry...it...doesn’t wanna- Heh- y’know.”

“Oh Shin...” you cooed, knowing something better than caffeine to sober him up now, “Let me take a look at that....”

Hands in front of his face Shin watched as you knelt down in front of him. Wobbly on his feet as his eyes couldn’t be torn from the dip in your shirt. Something very obvious to you. 

“You like them huh Shin?” You pull down the neckline of your blouse even further to expose the tops of your breasts, “I know you’ve looked at them from time to time...all these years too, you wanna touch them don’t you Shin?”

A drunken stupor but a nod none the less. He chewed on his bottom lip as Shinsuke shifted his weight. Unable to talk without sounding like a slurring fool.

“Well....I think we’ll be back here a while...I know something that might sober you up...” Words trailing, your hand against his thighs and your eyes watching him hold in a moan. You thought it was no more than a gracious privilege to heard the ever so quiet Shinsuke moan.

Pants around his ankles. Your palm rubbing up against his cock as precum dribbled down his slit. Glistening over his red tip as Shinsuke panted into his hands covering his mouth. You thought twice about sucking him off but didn’t need the smell of it on your breath. Instead you thought he might be to drunk to remember this so why not.

Sandwiching his cock between your breasts. Smiling adoringly up at him as Shinsuke clasped his hands over his mouth. You hardly had to move against him to see the glob of precum drool down the side of his cock.

“Mmm it looks better between my tits doesn’t it?” You cooed, “Bet you wanted to fuck them for so long? And now you’re too dumb and drunk to do anything about it huh Shin?”

Every word of it. He kept nodding. Eyes closed tight as his hands muffled his panting. You were right not a single part of him would move. Taking everything in him to stay on his feet as you moved against him. Sliminess of his cum coating your cleavage. Only making it easier for him to slip in and out between them. 

The friction. The warmth. Everything was too much. As your breasts grinding on either side of his cock Shinsuke couldn’t even tell if he was close to cumming or not before it was too late. 

With the way his legs shuddered was enough to tip you off. Not ready to be caught dead with cum on your clothes. Quick thinking lead you to grab the tiny porcelain teacup stacked neatly next to your head. Shinsuke had no idea he was cumming but you did. Quickly gripping his cock and watching glob after glob of thick white cum paint the inside of the teacup. Your fist milking him for every last drop that your tits couldn’t. Shinsuke breathing heavily into his hands as his eyes finally opened to see you before him.

Tits still out. Smeared lightly with precum. And a teacup full of his cum. You smile at him as you stand back up. Assured now that he was definitely to drunk to remember this. You bring the teacup to his lips and kiss the man’s jawline, “This’ll sober you right up....so go on, drink up captain.”

[sweetsbfreex]

a styles snow day

Summary: In Boston, with your family. You and H have a snow day with your daughter. After a hectic morning that is

Warnings: none!

Pairing: Dad, Husband!Harry x reader

The shuffling of soft feet against the sheets had shaken you awake, causing you to open your eyes. You ignore it, but before sleep could take you away again. A sharp strike, from a very soft foot, landed between your shoulders

You open your eyes wide, emitting a raspy whine into the morning air. Reaching your hand back to stop the tiny foot from landing another strike. In result you hear cute giggles causing you to turn, her foot still in your clutch, to see your eighteen month old.

You closed eyes for a second, letting out a low sigh before you scooped her up. Both of you laying on your sides, facing each other, one of her legs laid against your hip. 

You reached your hand out to fix the catastrophe that was her hair. 

“Not nice Ava...Why is it always me hm...Why don’t you ever wake dad like this?” you ask. 

She stared at you, smiling. Only elevator music playing in her morning mind right now. Her small body encased with one of Harry’s very old shirts at her knees. One that his mother had saved for when he had his first child.

“Go wake up dad” you whispered in her ear, your hand cupping the back of her tiny ear.

She looked up at you, her face now amused at your special request. Without any questions, she shuffled her bum to her dad. Who was on his side, his back away from the two of you. Draping her upper body over his torso, her teeny legs pointed out to stabilize herself. Taking an arn that wasn't holding herself up. She reached her chubby fingers to her father’s eye, pulling his eye lid up. 

Giggling to herself when Harry’s eye began to move around, then upward at her face which was upside down to him. Then she laughed a bit more when both his eyes startled open in shock.

“Daddy!” she squealed.

Harry groaned, a light pout on his face before he pulled Ava’s finger from his eye. “Hi baby” he smiled, pulling his girl over so she became cocooned in his arms against his chest.

“Mum set you up to this right?” he asked, turning his head around to see a “sleeping” y/n. 

“For someone who’s supposed to love me...you are such a menace”. He told his other girl. Watching as she laughed, blowing the cover she thought she had. “Caught ya’” he mumbled, turning back to his baby’s giggles. 

You got up, reaching your body over your end of the bed to place a kiss on his shoulder. Making your way over to the three window walls beside your bed. When you rolled up the first blind. A small comical gasp got your attention, looking behind you to see her shocked gaze on the snow.

“Snow!” She gleamed, removing herself from Harry and sprinting to the window. Her nose and palms all up in the glass. Watching the thick layer of snow that buried your spacious backyard. 

All three of you had landed in your home in Boston, coming back from visiting your parents, late last night. And with the moving around she had to do a long with the flight. she didn’t get a chance to see the snowfall in the middle of the night. 

“I know” you told her, matching her energy. “You wanna play in it later?” You asked, bringing your hand down to pull her away from the glass.

She jumped up and down nodding her head in reply. 

“Let’s eat first then we can later”

––––––

Now you were all in the kitchen/dining (since they shared the same space). After Harry took out Milo, the family’s Australian shepherd, from his cage to the front yard. Now he was chasing? Or Ava was chasing him?. The loud dog pants, the sound of feet/paws against the wood, Ava’s giggles, the music Harry decided to play, and your whines, were all mixed.  Because Harry would. not. Let you go.  

“Do you want to starve? I need to make breakfast” you lean your head back on his shoulder. Being currently enveloped by both his arms, closing you between his chest and the counter. 

“You’re popping a couple of eggos in the toaster, chill out” he snickered.

You smiled at his teasing, kissing his cheek before turning your way back to the eggs you were mixing first. He stayed behind you placing kiss after kiss to your shoulder, then your neck, then to the cut of your jaw. 

You giggled, reeling him in a bit as you brandished your butt against him. Eyes averting to Harry's fingers which were clenching the counter a bit.

And ever so quickly you tilted your head, so your mouth was to his ear whispering...

“Go fill Milo’s bowl” you tell him, turning your head to kiss one of his shoulders. Before they deflated and Harry sported a dejected look on his face. 

“I’ll remember this the next time the roles reverse hm?” he tells you, pinching your butt and then strolling away to the pantry. 

And it was peaceful for a little until frill cries interrupted it; and Harry’s voice cooing Ava was what you heard. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, leaving the eggs and turning off the warming pan. 

“Sad because Milo’s not playing anymore” he chuckles, rubbing his hand.

“You ready for your pancakes?” You ask her. 

At that the instant crocodile tears ended, as expected, while she nodded her head yes. You and Harry shared a laugh before he brought to the table, sitting in her booster seat. While you popped some eggos in the toaster. 

“Har! Are you eating pancakes too?” You yell out to him. 

“No thank you, ‘m gonna eat the eggs” he replied to you, leaving Ava with her coloring sheet.  

–––––

You were all roughly done. Milo finished his breakfast a while ago, now he laid next to Ava’s chair looking with hope at everyone eating.

And when her parents were no longer paying attention to her, instead to each other. Ava used her nimble fingers to break a piece of her bacon. Bringing it to her mouth before “accidentally” dropping it on the floor. Smiling down at her best friend who ate it with pleasure. 

‘Poor mimi’ she thought

Taking a bit of her pancakes between her fingers, she tried it one more time. Instead a different method; as she hid the piece of her syrup-less pancake in her closed fist. Yawning slyly, bringing her arms above her hands after she looked down at the puppy eyes Milo gave her. And bringing them to lay against her side; dropping the pancake onto the mixed fur beneath her.

“Ey!” Harry voiced, catching her in the act. 

You turned around confused, watching as she jumped in her seat, looking up at her father in a stunned manner. 

“What were you doing Ava?” You asked. 

She looked at both her parents, pushing her bottom lip out. 

“Milo is hungry!” She defended 

“Are we supposed to be feeding Milo anything that isn’t dog food?” He tests her. 

“No” she murmurs. Eyebrows wrinkled together and lips pouted causing her cheeks to fill out more than usual. Her small face was in perfect view to get a glance of her expression. Then in a haste she tucked her chin into her body, so all you both saw was the top of her bed head.  

The couple wasn’t against giving Milo “human food”, he’d get some from time to time, not too much. But with a child it was a bit different. Ava didn’t know what a dog could and couldn’t eat, so the two of them had to be stricter when it came to her giving Milo food. They’d also been training Milo to not accept food Ava get him, but the two of them were like peas in a pod. 

You and Harry looked at each other. You raised your eyebrows to him, wondering how the pair of you should go about this. He shrugs backs at you, a smile etched on his face as he eyes his child again. 

She sat still in her chair, keeping the heartbroken visage on her face. Ava decided to add a dash of spice into her act by crossing her arms over her chest . Without context you would think you told her she would never be able to watch Disney movies ever again! 

You decided to take the reigns.

“Babe do you want Milo to have to go to the doctor?” You asked her. 

“No.” She responded short.

“Talk appropriately, Ava” Harry told her. 

“No, mommy” she repeated herself, looking up this time, her arms uncrossed and instead sat in her lap. 

“If you keep giving her human food he’ll get sick, then he’ll have to go to the doctor...then you could be arrested” you pout at her pinching her cheeks.

“Y/N!” Harry hissed, his foot breezing past your shin.

“What? It worked on me”

“Okay Okay, you won’t go to jail, mommy’s fibbing. I’m

Sorry”

“You’re fibbing?” She murmurs, using her palm to clear her bangs from her forehead. Looking at Harry for confirmation as you both nod.

“But you can’t feed Milo human food, it’s not good for him” you remind her. 

“Okay. I won’t feed Milo anymore. Promise!” she answers in a hushed tone, reaching her hands up so you could pull her into your lap.

You did so kissing the top of her head

“Mumma?” Tilting her head back. 

“Yea?”

“You eat the pancakes, I don’t want them,” she remarked, tossing her head side-to-side and patting her plump stomach. Sticking her tongue out in an icky manner, meaning she was full. 

You and Harry shared a quick laugh at her chaotic antics.

“Ready to go out and play?” Which resulted in a large hoot led by Harry.

–––––––

Everyone showered by two, the sun brighter than when you woke up, and the snow falling down softer, in a flurry. 

Before you all left the London home, you had ordered the three of you matching garments and gloves for the pictures you knew you and Harry would take.

Currently,  you and Harry were clad in thick turquoise jackets. Only struggling with the task of getting Ava dressed up. 

She was like a wiggling worm, wouldn’t stay still, even when you and Harry offered her some candy. Her infectious belly laughs only grew as she thought this was some kind of funny game. But it wasn't and you made that clear when you told her she wouldn't be playing in the snow until she dressed up. Did she sit down like a good girl. 

“Oh! Look at my baby!” you thrilled, holding her cheeks between your palms. Pulling her in for an eskimo kiss. Those have been her favorite for the longest. Ever since she got herself hooked on Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. “You look so cute, beautiful” you tell her.  

She smiles at the compliments, such a narcissist she was. Always asking you if she looked pretty in this or that at least once a day. Along with checking herself out in the mirror for an extended amount of time. Such a narcissist. Yet, you also loved the way she tilted her chin down, head lolled to the side bashfully. 

Harry, like lightning,  put her beanie over her braided pigtails while you put on her black snow boots. He picked her up once she finished dressing up,setting her on his  blowing a raspberry on her chubby cheeks.

“Aren’t you guys the cutest” you hummed, pulling your phone out to take a picture. You chuckled when you watched the way her giggles disappeared at the sight of your phone. Instead a beaming smile, pressing her cheek to her father’s scruffy one. Snapping a few live photos of the two. 

“I wanna see” her palm out towards you for the phone. 

You shuffled yourself beside her, tilting the phone so they both could see the photos. 

“Look so beautiful. Hm?” Harry marveled, placing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

She grinned at his acclaim, “Yes” she dragged out the s. Nodding her head in a gentle manner before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“You look so good too, H” you tell him. Your hand rubbing the cheek that wasn’t occupied by Ava.

He, without a doubt, did. He decided to stop shaving the last two weeks and gosh did he look good. The turquoise color brought out the green of his eyes. Instead of letting his hair down, he decided he’d clip it back with one of your clips.

He kissed you on the lips then on your cheek in result, Also exchanging a string of compliments your way, by whispering some not safe for kid ears into yours.. Your stomach did a bit of a flip at his husky voice, before you slapped his chest in a truce like manner.

“Milo! Let’s go outside!” Harry shouted out, clutching your hand as he led the three of you downstairs. 

–––––

The four of you were outside in the white blanket. Milo was doing his zoomies, astounded with this new found discovery. Before his non-stop running. The first thing Milo did, when he came in contact with the snow, was freeze (ears up in curiosity), then he stuck his nose into the snow, ate some snow. Now he was running in circles. 

Ava loved this, perched up on Harry’s shoulder as she giggled, her nimble finger following Milo’s body.

You had Harry’s phone pointed at the two of them, videoing the whole family. 

And Harry was feeling gratified. His baby was on his shoulder happy as a lark. His other baby had a radiating smile on her beautiful face while recording these moments. as always. And his pup was having the time of his life

“Baby!” you lose it when Harry also looks away from Milo to face you in no time. “Ava...Can you catch a snowflake like this?”

Harry blows a huff. He hates when you do that (half the time on purpose). Watching you tilt your head back, eyes closed, and your tongue out as you catch snow in your mouth. 

Ava catches on, her eyes go a bit crossed when she tries to see the snow landing on her tongue. 

“Here, baby, hold her for a bit” he tells you, bringing her down into your open arms (so she’s now on your hip). He leans down a bit to gather a bit of snow in his hands to make a snowball. Then once he’s done, he has a mischievous smile when he targets it to your chest. 

It startles you, “Harry!” 

And you halt, again, when the kid on your hip starts to wail. Her head thrown back and her eyes closed, sealed tight.

"Aww. Don't cry baby. Look at what you did Harry" you reprimand him in a jest. His eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting for this to end in her tears. "Daddy's mean right? Watch this" you shush her, watching her until she opens her eyes, only in small hiccups. 

You crouch down carefully pulling some snow into your fist.

“Watch baby, gotta get revenge” you tell her smiling. Raising yourself up to then fling the snow into Harry’s chest. Ever the dramatic man. He clutched his heart over his jacket before falling back into the sea of snow groaning out. Opening one eye, when he hears the laugh of his precious girl. 

“Here” you tell Ava, giving her own ball of snow. She eyes it for a little before she tries to shove the snow into her mouth like crazy. Very likely you shouldn’t have shown her how to catch the snowflakes beforehand. You roll your eyes at Harry when you hear his chuckles at the exchange. 

When you tell her no and to throw it you watch her laugh as she flings it on top of her father. Who then groans again and lays with his tongue out and body spread out like the chalk outlines. You set her down to the ground and she zips to the “dead” body. She pokes his eye like earlier today because it always works, but when it doesn’t she relents to other forces.  

“Mimi!” she calls the shepheard over, pointing down at Harry. Who is slowly breaking his facade (but she doesn’t notice). Milo bounded forward to his owner with zeal. Sniffing around Harry for a bit before licking his face, inducing Harry to shout. Jump scaring the three of you, especially poor Milo who dashed away and Ava who fell on her butt. 

Ava didn’t appreciate it. Taking snow between her mittens and crushing it into H’s chest causing a laugh out of all you. 

–––––

The sun was about to set and Harry and Ava were rolling up the last ball for the snowman’s head. You were smoothing the parts that were a bit rough. Milo was back in the house. Too tired from all the running he was doing, but you were able to get some family shots with him too. 

“Be careful, babe” Ava tells Harry (unnecessarily loud), when his foot gets caught in an icy patch.

“Thank you babe” he tells her, leaning down to kiss her chin. “Wonder where she gets that from. Hm?” he teases you, winking at you and puckering his lips to blow you a kiss. As you smile shyly looking away from him. 

They were on either side of you.  Ava nestled into your side, her arms around one of yours. All while Harry begins to lift the final snowball onto the other two. 

“There you go baby. Olaf!” he tells her one she’s finished. 

She isn’t excited and looks at the figure confused for a minute. You look up at Harry, eye brows pinched, he looks at you the same way, his hands on his hip when he shrugs at you. 

A little gasp makes you both turn your head to see her eyes light up and finger pointed upward, like in the movies.

“Forget his buttons, eyes, and nose” she tells you, trying to point at where each thing went. 

“You’re so right, smart girl, let me go get them, find some sticks too.”

You shuffle through the backdoor. Gaining ompant when Milo decides to come out of the living room. Rubbing his head on the way there. Going into the fridge you get the shortest carrot in the bag before moving into the fireplace for some coal.

When you walk back out, Ava is sitting on Harry's shoulders again. Her arms wrapped around his forehead with an iron grip. You hand her the carrot.

“Thank you mommy” she cheered, the tip of her cheeks getting firmer with her grin. 

You pinch her cheeks a little bit, in response. Turning around to place the coals in a shape of a smile, using the last five as his buttons and eyes. While doing this you notice the skinny branches as his arms.  

“Okay Miss Styles time for you to do the honor. Go ahead and give him his nose”

Harry squats down until Ava's leveled with the snowman's head. She decides, among herself, to twirl the carrot around so the pointed part of the carrot gets buried in the snow. You truly don't have the heart to correct her when you see how proud of herself she is. 

Once she finishes, Harry picks her up and off his shoulder so she's settled on his hip instead. He jostles her around, shouting an array of  "Yay! Ava!" The three of you clapping your hands together to celebrate. All while Ava revels in the abundance of praise, yet she huddles her into the comforts of her dad's shoulder. 

Her first snow day had gone way better than either of you would have imagined. You personally assumed that she would have hated it. Especially since it was a very cold substance. Or she would have cried the whole time, wanting to go back in instantly.

If anything, it was more perfect than anything. You loved your little family and there was quite possibly nothing that could replace the rush of emotions you felt when you were with them. Making these treasured moments. You think this all while Harry pulls you in for a kiss.

read a little continuation of this family here!

–––

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[lemony-snickers]

hi lemony! for the prompts if you wanted could you please do the Kakashi tracing fingers over lover’s scars? (also if you’re so inclined I would love to see your cat :) )

hey there, anon. thanks for submitting a soft prompt request! you're officially the last one in my inbox! <3 that said, sorry it's a little late, haha.

i'm not sure if you like this trope generally, but i did write another little thing with this same idea called deeper than the skin (based on an ask i received from a mutual), in case you'd like to check it out.

i hope you're having a great day!

also, unfortunately, i don't have any good photos of my grandpa cat because he is very skittish and semi-feral, so they're all taken from a very far distance and then zoooooooomed way in until he's all blurry, lololl. but the next time he allows me to give him a brief chin scratch, i'll let him know it's from you. <3

Warnings: scar mention.

Afternoons like this were rare, but treasured. You and Kakashi, sitting on the couch together as you read; no missions or training or other obligations.

It was late summer and you wore shorts and a tank top, while Kakashi opted for a loose pair of pants and his usual undershirt. He sat on one end of the couch, a well-worn copy of Icha Icha Paradise in his hands and your feet in his lap, one thumb rubbing idly over your shins as he read.

He always pulled your legs over his when you sat like this. He claimed it was for your comfort--"So you can lean back and relax," he said--but you knew part of it was just that Kakashi liked to be always touching you in some way whenever he could.

He certainly wouldn't find you complaining. You lost yourself in your book, humming contentedly as the sun warmed you both through the windows and Kakashi's thumb continued its same mindless caressing of your leg.

At some point, you realized Kakashi's fingers were taking a more deliberate path and you lowered your book to find Icha Icha abandoned on the arm of the couch and Kakashi's brow furrowed slightly as he traced patterns across your skin.

"What are you doing?"

He looked up at you with a soft expression that made your chest tighten.

"I don't think I've ever noticed how many scars you have here."

You sat up on your elbows to peer down at Kakashi's fingers, which were delicately tracing over all the barely visible marks on your legs and knees.

"Yeah, I guess. They're mostly just from training."

The life of a shinobi came with scars. The ones on your legs were mostly the result of errant kunai or flying rubble from sparring matches; little knicks and cuts that left barely a trace unless you were really looking for them.

"I think it's just the lighting," you said, noting the way the sun shining through the windows highlighted the scars more prominently.

Kakashi bent one of your knees and pressed his lips to it over a particularly obvious mark from a nasty fall you'd taken as a chunin.

You smiled softly at the gesture, sitting up so you could rest your hand on his cheek, running your thumb along the scar over his closed left lid.

You could hear civilians chatting in the streets below your open window, birds flitting past in raucous pairs.

But none of that mattered. This moment was quiet and private; just the two of you acknowledging past hurts.

"I don't like them," he said, finally, drawing your hand away from his face to look at the similar marks across your hands and forearms, scrapes and slices from shuriken and other deflected blades. "I don't like thinking about you being hurt."

You smiled, which Kakashi seemed taken aback by.

"Don't think of it like that," you said, "Think of them as a reminder of all the things we've survived so we could come back to one another."

Kakashi smiled, too, at that, and kissed your knuckles gently.

"I don't know how you always manage to find the bright side of everything," he said wryly.

You knew sometimes Kakashi lost himself in the darkness. It was only natural; you'd found yourself there plenty of times, too.

But you knew the both of you would always be there to pull each other back out into the sunshine, even if you were a little worse for wear. And watching as he returned to his beloved book, you knew you wouldn't change a thing about your life, scars and all.

Because it brought you to him.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Sorry, they're maroon

Day 18, Story #2 is by @Heavensquill

Title: Sorry, they’re maroon Author/Artist: HeavensQuill Pairing: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Prompt: Brother from another Mother Rating: K Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None

Summary: Ron Weasley's willingness to share with Harry Potter started early, on their very first night at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts: 1st Year

  “They found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains.” -  Rowling, JK. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Chapter 7 - The Sorting Hat, Page 93

  ----

  The five young Gryffindors were all extremely grateful that they did not have to carry their trunks up to the seventh floor, each of them panting slightly from their climb with full stomachs. They wheeled their respective trunks away from the centre of the room and set about picking their new beds. 

  Neville Longbottom chose the bed furthest to the right, his rounded bottom currently poking out from under it, where he could be heard searching once again for his lost toad. 

  “Come back Trevor, I can’t reach you under there!”

  Sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan opted for the bed furthest to the left. He placed his trunk down at the foot of the bed, looked nervously around the room, jerked his thumb to the nearby bathroom door and muttered,

  “Weak bladder, boys, hope you don’t mind. Makes it easier to go in the night.” He launched himself backwards into the comfortable four-poster bed with a groan of satisfaction, then got back to his feet and retreated to the bathroom.   

  Dean Thomas took a little longer to contemplate his choice. The tall dark-skinned boy—who was even taller than Ron Weasley—walked between the three remaining beds while running a hand across the foot of each as he muttered to himself. Eventually, he straightened up and heaved his trunk to the bed next to Seamus’ before he, too, flung himself face-first into his bed with a yell of satisfaction. 

  Harry took in his surroundings and tried to process the events of the day. How could someone gain so much in a day? He had gained a new school and home, a new bedroom, roommates, peace away from the torment of the Dursleys, and best of all, a best friend. He looked over at Ron Weasley and smiled as the lanky ginger contemplated between the two remaining beds that had yet to be occupied by the new cohort of first-year Gryffindors.

  “Left or right, Harry? Your pick,” offered the ginger-haired boy, a warm smile on his freckled face.

  A little startled at being given the freedom of choice for once, Harry contemplated between the two beds, before deciding on the left one. They began to wheel their trunks over, but unfortunately for Ron, one of the wheels on his trunk appeared to be broken, and it scraped noisily across the ground as he heaved it behind him. 

  At that moment, Seamus Finnigan had re-entered the room and clapped his hands for their attention. 

  “Shall we uh...get ready for bed? I noticed the bathrooms have stalls, I...uh, think I’ll change…” he trailed off weakly, an embarrassed blush creeping up his face. Rather than continuing, he simply grabbed his wash bag and pyjamas and darted into the bathroom once more, uncomfortable at the prospect of changing within a shared dormitory. 

  Neville Longbottom looked like he, too, wasn’t yet comfortable with the prospect of getting changed in front of others, so he too jogged to the bathroom after Seamus, before returning a second later. 

  “I uh, forgot my things…” He whispered, before retrieving his wash bag and clothes and returning to the bathroom. 

  “I guess I’ll just go in the stall, too. I always change in the bathroom at home anyway,” Dean Thomas said, leaning into his trunk to withdraw what he needed. 

  Ron had finally managed to get his trunk to the foot of his bed and yanked out a tatty pair of tartan pyjamas and a toothbrush before rushing off into the bathroom. Harry looked around at the empty room and figured since he was alone in here, there wasn’t any reason he couldn’t change where he was. Removing his shoes and socks and placing them at the side of his bed, Harry walked over to the shared mirror in the room and pulled his new wizarding robes off over his head, attempted to flatten his messy black hair, and then changed. He was now wearing an old blue t-shirt and torn baggy jeans. Yawning, he walked over to his trunk, pulled out his toothbrush and entered the bathroom to brush his teeth.

  ✽

  After changing and brushing his teeth, Ron was the first one to re-enter the dormitory and excitedly clambered into his new bed. He was finally at Hogwarts and Harry Potter was his friend. What a day. He looked up to see the spectacled boy walk back into the room and climb into his bed. Confusion took a hold of Ron, Harry was wearing a t-shirt and old jeans to bed. Why hadn’t he changed into pyjamas or something more comfortable?

  “Is...Is that what you’re going to sleep in?” he asked Harry tentatively, hoping he hadn’t sounded rude. 

  Harry shrugged, “It’s what I always wear. They’re my cousin Dudley’s old clothes. I don’t...don’t have pyjamas or anything else.” A tinge of sadness was in his voice as he pulled the covers back over himself. 

  Anger and sympathy rapidly bubbled up inside Ron, and he felt his fists clench on his bedsheets. How awful were Harry’s Muggle relatives? How could they not give him any pyjamas or even proper clothes? It sounded as though they were cruel to Harry, and it was shameful. He looked over towards his friend, who looked even smaller than he already was if that was possible. Making up his mind, Ron jumped out of bed, yanked his trunk open, and rummaged around inside. 

  “Aha! Found it!” Ron said, triumphantly brandishing a balled-up wad of clothing in his hand. 

He stood up and made his way towards Harry, a large red blush creeping up his neck. He held out the tangled mess of clothing towards Harry and said.

  “Here, try these on. They were always a little small for me, but they’re in good condition and—and I want you to have them.” He smiled at Harry, a look of tenderness and hope in his blue eyes. Harry reached out with trembling fingers and took the bundle of material from him.

  “Uh, thank you. Are these...?” He was stuttering slightly, not sure of what to say.

  “Pyjamas? Yeah. For you, from me.” Ron finished, rubbing the back of his neck.

  Harry smiled at Ron, a look of affection on his face, and took off into the bathroom to put them on.

  Ron felt proud of himself for causing the look of happiness on Harry’s face when he had accepted the pile of pyjamas from him. He feared that maybe his old pyjamas would not be appreciated or wanted. He was glad to be wrong, and now he just had to wait for Harry to change and come back out. 

  One by one, the other boys stepped out of the bathroom in their pyjamas and climbed into their respective beds. Harry, however, had not yet emerged from the bathroom and Ron was getting a little worried. Did he not like them? Did they not fit? Was he disgusted by them? Ron was just about to walk over towards the bathroom when the door swung open and Harry stood there grinning, clad in the pyjamas from Ron. He immediately made his way over, his smile growing wider and wider.

  “Thank you. They’re amazing and so comfortable!” Harry said in a hushed voice. 

  “No problem, mate. Anytime.” Ron replied, an equally wide grin on his face.

  ✽

  The five Gryffindors all settled into their beds, blew out their candles and eventually, a low rumble of snores could be heard throughout the circular dormitory. Only Harry and Ron remained awake. Earlier, Harry had hoped to slip into bed without anyone noticing his sleeping attire. The Dursleys had never quite clothed him properly, he had always been given Dudley’s old clothes, but they never quite matched his needs or physical appearance. For a brief moment, he feared Ron would mock him for his clothing, but he had something amazing and kind instead. 

  “Ron?”

  “Yeah, Harry?”

  “Th-Thanks again for the pyjamas. I really appreciate them, I’ve never worn any before.”

  “Honestly, mate, say no more about it. They’re yours now, and besides, I’m glad they have someone who fits into them, they come up to my shins! Lucky you’re so short.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Goodnight Harry.”

  “Goodnight Ron.”

  With a deep sense of happiness, Harry rolled over in his bed and was drifting off to sleep when Ron spoke once more.

  “Harry, I’m sorry they’re maroon.” 

  Smiling to himself, Harry felt the weight of sleep overtake him, his last thought as he drifted off to bed was that maroon wasn’t such a bad colour, but today it was nothing compared to the colour orange. 

[muffindaddystyles]

Hi, could you pls write something about Y/n finding out she’s pregnant and she decides not to keep the baby. Like, maybe Harry and y/n are not married (not that you have to be married to have a baby, it’s just a suggestion) and maybe Harry gets kind of mad at the beginning but then understands why she doesn’t want the baby. In every fanfiction they always end up keeping the baby, yes it’s cute, but babies take a lot of your time, they are expensive and sometimes annoying. Maybe it’s not the right time for them to be parents!! Make it extra angst pls

A/N: I agree with you, honestly it's okay for women/partner not to want kids in a relationship.

Warning: Mentions of abortion and angst.

//

Y/N just came back from one of the sleepovers of her bestfriend. It was fun, no offence but every food-ly item there made her sick to her core and atlast she ended up throwing. Ofcourse, all her girlie-bestie were there to give her a back rub, hold her hair for her, made her chamomile tea and most importantly did a serious talk to her in their pillow fort while sipping onto their hot bevy.

When Y/N told them she's been feeling like this from goodly two weeks they all gasped making Y/N's nerves jumble furthermore —--- what they advised her next flew over her head as she kept on poking her finger through the loops of her crotched cardigan, "Huh?" She hums innocently tucking her loose hair back.

"You could be pregnant. . ." Feli told her softly grabbing her hand, "Perhaps, could be sick too." Y/N scoffs diverting her eyes somewhere else and all her friends sighed in utter sympathy for her.

Y/N doesn't want to think about it at all. No way! This could happen. It's not right. It wouldn't be fair to anyone. She knows that the worst's been waiting for her as it hits her that her periods are late.

"We can find out, though . . ." Feli slides the offer cautiously to her and when Y/N shook her head in rejection everyone insisted because they care about her. So, they ended up taking the test and it indeed came out as positive now Y/N's a crying mess cuddled with her friends as they assured her that it's gonna be alright.

"I don't wanna go home . . Can't face, Harry." She whimpers. Her heart beating wildly at the cluster of assumptions and thoughts. What she'll do now? What will happen to them? What if their decision wouldn't be same? What if he'll leave her?

"You've to love, Nia will drive you home yeah? Talk to him, I'm super sure he'll understand, he's been so supportive of you since you guys met." They all hugged her warmly before departing her off and Nia told her to call her in the morning walking her to the door.

When she enters the whole house has been dimmed to mellow light just mere instinctive noises of telly buzzing and when she pads inside she's met by the most adorable sight of Harry lounged over the couch one leg dangled over the floor and his neck craned in a bad angle; it seems like he fell asleep waiting for her and Y/N was about to retreat when he stirred up calling for her name.

"Pet?" He tries to open his peepers rubbing them with the back of his hand stretching out like a lazy cat, "You look devastated pet, what happened? Were ye'cryin' baby?" She stays silent taking in large breathers nibbling onto her lower lip. He scoots aside patting the spot beside him to make her sit and grabs her jaw to see her properly.

She looks down lip wobbling as she struggled to utter the sentence, "Harry . . ." She sniffs and he nods caressing the corner of her lip, "'m listening my love –- promise it's not somethin' scary." It is for her.

"I'm pregnant." Time ticks by and it feels like the air has densed to the point her lungs stopped functioning. His thumb, it halts in their loving to her and his breaths hitches in his throat glossing his eyes with lack of oxygen or joy? She can't diminish.

He cackles breathily as if he's hallucinating and then gasps out of the epiphany, her heart shatters into million pieces for giving him fake beacon of happiness when he hugged her tightly to his chest.

"Jesus. 'M so happy darlin'!" He squeaks into the crook of her neck bouncing his knee in excitement and she pushes him away shaking her head, "No, no, no — Harry, I don't want it." Her voice wavered as her eyes held plead for him to understand fisting the hem of his sweater out of anxiousness and Harry feels like someone snatched his grounds, numbness sets into his toes from the distress that's bolting shut his heart chambers.

"Wha –-- what? But we talked 'bout it darlin'." He stammers baffled at her descion. He's too sensitive and all over the place right now, his mindset's isn't capable of doing something that's best for them and maybe it's because of all the images of his own lil baby in all the corners of his home, it would be such a blessing to have one wouldn't it? His conscience screamed at him.

"We did — " She says but he cuts her off, "Then why?" His own voice breaking and she clears her throat to pull some courage. His weakness makes her weak too.

"Let me speak." He nods curtly at her to continue.

"We did. Yes, I want kids with you, Harry nothing will be more beautiful than that but . . . but 'm not ready now, financially, mentally and physically." He stands up at this pacing back and forth massaging the furrowing lines at his temple. At his closed off and cold demeanour Y/N sobs throwing her hands in air.

"Would you speak somethin'!?" He turns in a snap. His eyesblooshot lips quirking up into a bitter frown, he's outraged and been burning from inside but doesn't want to dump it at her knowing it would hurt him more than it would hurt her. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he'll break the heart of his most precious human and the person who's been with him through thick n' thin.

He jeers furiously irritated at him and her, "What's there to speak? You've already made up ye'r mind, I've no say in it. Though, you know that 'm enough to raise our baby and could take care of you at the sametime." She grits something under her breath and he squints, "What?" His accent thick and gruff.

"I'm saying you're being a total, asshole!!" She tries not to yell at him groaning into the throw pillow.

She wants to kick him in shin when he just shrugged carelessly, "Okay."

"Trust me Harry not everyone's a rich millionaire like you!! I told you I'm not financially stable to have a kid and you rubbed it in my face, do you have any idea how your words were a jab to me!!" She wants to have an equal share of money in raising her kids, to give them the idea that in this household none of their parents are inferior or superior in bringing them up and she'd love for Harry to take extra care for them but his ruthless words made her feel so small and empty pocket infront of him for the first time.

She didn't notice until now that tears are dripping down his throat. Regret, remorse and guilt evident on his face but he wouldn't apologise and she's well aware of it. Wish she could hug him and kiss him to calm him down but he caused equal damage to her too.

"I'll go to clinic, in the morning." She mutters leaving him pooled into sorrow and the pricking shadow of telly while he cried to himself silently.

If it's the end. Then it should be a better one.

//

His boots click against the hard tiles getting loud hushes from people in waiting. He ducks down panting hopelessly, slamming his fist at the reception counter and looks at the nurse with furious eyes, "You're here to pick someone, sir?" He nods jutting his lips in attempt to take a good breather.

"Miss Y/N – "

She quickly points at the ward, "There, she might be unconscious at the mo'." He quickly shakes his head running towards it despite of all the stares he's getting from women of all ages.

There she was sitting at edge of bed in a gown –- looking small, defeated and devastated clutching the fabric of it from her knees. Her head perks up at the commotion taking in the sight of a disheveled Harry with a sandwich, vanilla moose, a tinsy plushie and sunflowers tucked under his armpit.

His chin quivers and eyes well up with bulky tears, "I'm sorry." He mouthes to her and she shakes her head with equally glossy eyes. He pads towards her carefully and sits beside her forwarding her the vanilla moose with shaky hand.

"Sorry couldn't get the chocolate one." A tiny sob breaks through her smile, "Don't like the vanilla anyways —" Her meeting his gaze was the ending point for him as he bunches his angel in a hug, smushing his face into the crook of her neck with little sniffles.

"It was very shitty of me." He admits tightening his arms around her waist and she calms him by rubbing his back, "We both weren't at our best last night." She whispers and he nods.

"I don't think you're any less than me baby, rather you're more stronger person than me in every way -- didn't —-- didn't wanna hurt you, promise. I love you so much for some different descion to tear us apart." His thumb runs in circles against her shoulders and she cups his face to look at him properly.

"Forgive me, please."

"I did bug —- the moment I realized you're a human being with emotions and feelings that could tipple over at their worsts. You've dreams too and I'm so sorry I wasn't able to fulfil them at the moment."

"You don't have to, yeah? No more apologising. We'll have a family when we both are ready." He kisses her temple, stroking her head affectionately and she bathes in that warmth.

"We could buy the chocolate moose on our way back home." He quips wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

A teasing smile breaking through his caring persona and she grins, "Shut up." scooping some of it but he takes the tiny spoon from her feeding it to her himself heating her cheeks with shyness.

.