#stop motion ideas for birthday

[secretlocket]

THINKING ABOUT BEST FRIEND!LEON.

best friend!leon who’s been your best friend for as long as you could remember. he’s been at every birthday party and almost every family cookout.

best friend!leon who your mom secretly hopes you end up marrying.

best friend!leon who’s always been a bit of a goody two shoes. perfectly grades, clean record. every time you’d tease him about him about it he’d crossed his arms and frown.

best friend!leon who your grandma and aunties are very much fond of.

best friend!leon who always shares his things with you—his airpods, fries, hoodies—you name it.

best friend!leon who your father approves of.

best friend!leon who has a dislike for trouble and shenanigans, always seems to be pulled into your little mischievous ‘adventures’.

best friend!leon who seems to be…caught up in one of those ‘adventures’ as of right now.

“if you’re gonna move, move.” his voice is slightly muffled because his hands are on his face, hiding the fact that his eyes are damn near rolling into the back of his skull.

“what was that? i can’t hear you, lee.”

you hum happily as you lean forward and move them away from his face, revealing those gorgeous baby blues of his. his lips are slightly red and puffy from the intense makeout session you both had earlier prior to…this.

you look at him, flashing the sweetest most innocent smile as if you aren’t straddling his lap, all of his inches currently buried deep in you—taking a mental note of how flustered he is, purposely avoiding eye contact, skin semi clammy, chest heaving up and down…the poor boy is a wreck.

and you’re enjoying every second of it.

“i said,” he speaks slowly, voice a little raspy. “if you’re gonna move, move. you’re killing me here, sweetheart.”

sweetheart. he’s been calling you that for the longest of time-but every time he does, butterflies attack your stomach. it just…does something to you.

his eyes are back on you now, practically begging and pleading you to do something-anything.

you tilt your head and give him a fake confused look causing him to let out an annoyed scoff.

“seriously, just move already! what’s the whole point in even doing this, this is literally a torture tactic-why are you even doing this to me? it’s not fair and y—ahhhh—fuck!”

“you talk too much.” you roll your eyes as roll your hips, yours rocking into his as you perform a slow and steady circular motion and rhythm. your gaze falls upon leon, who’s eyes are squeezed shut as he hungrily grips the fat of your hips as you move. you place a teasing kiss on his cheek, getting a whiff of his cologne as you do; something icy and cool, mixed with the scent of his laundry detergent. a crisp clean smell that silently drove you crazy.

“keep going, please d-don’t stop! so good, sweetheart. sooo good.” whiny babbles and fucked out praises leave his wet lips as you continue to move against him but you can’t help but to suddenly get a little…sadistic idea.

your hips come to sudden halt earning an agitated groan from the boy in front of you. his eyes fly open, dark brows knitting together in annoyance. “you stopped. again. why?”

“seems like you were having a little too much fun,” you offer a simple shrug. “wanted to tease you a little more before i get you there.”

leon’s jaw clenches and you laugh—but it’s cut short when you suddenly feel his warm strong hand grab ahold of your waist and starts bouncing you up and down him.

“ah—leon!”

“you teased me enough,” he grunts keeping his eyes on you as you hold on to his shoulders, squeals and whines escaping your lips. “now it’s my fucking turn, sweetheart.”

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ KABEDON W TOKYO REVENGERS

TOKREV BOYS CAGING YOU AGAINST A WALL. ft. izana kurokawa, takashi mitsuya, & shuji hanma x f!reader

sfw. 1K wc. i’ve been sooo excited to write for izana !! & my head’s been buzzing w so many ideas after seeing a bunch of maid-sama edits back on my fyp <3

IZANA KUROKAWA. mild jealousy & possessiveness

You wonder if Izana can hear the rapid thumping of your heart as his arm comes to rest against the doorframe, his eyes looking intently into yours.

“Who was that guy you were talking to?” His voice breaks the silence, tone laced with the faintest hint of curiosity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, trying to compose yourself even though the proximity has heat rising all the way to the tips of your ears. “I don't know,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. “He just asked for my number. And i said no.”

There's a moment of silence as izana processes your words, his gaze never leaving yours. You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction, unsure if you should add that you mentioned you have a boyfriend too.

“That’s all?” Izana finally speaks, his voice low and steady, but there's something in his eyes that betrays his calm exterior.

You nod. “That’s all.”

He exhales deeply, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he moves closer to you. His fingers brush against your cheek, lingering on your jaw for a brief moment before gently tilting your head to the side. “Izana?”

“Mhm,” he hums softly, his breath warm against your skin as he presses gentle kisses along your collarbone. “That sounds right.”

His lips move with a deliberate slowness to cover every inch of your skin, and you can’t help but melt into his touch as his lips ghost down your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your skin. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, and you sigh. “That’s good.” He repeats to himself.

“Don’t pay them any attention.” Izana reminds you, his voice dropping to a soft murmur against your skin. “You’re mine.”

HANMA SHUJI. recreation of that !! scene from maid sama (he gives u a hickey on your back), reader wearing a backless dress, ‘pretty thing,’ ‘princess’

“That’s a tiny dress you got on.” Hanma muses, long arm resting just above your head as he cages you against the wall, his face coming to hover mere inches in front of yours.

“Where’s a pretty thing like you headed tonight?”

“Well, yeah,” you pout, adjusting the thin strap of your dress. “I’m going to my friend’s birthday party tonight.”

You struggle to read the expression on his face, amused eyes lingering on the simple design of your dress, ignoring the way you huff impatiently.

“Backless?”

“Yeah, backless. I’m leaving now.” With a quick tilt of your head, you try to gauge his reaction again, a part of you skeptical to whether or not he’s planning something this time.

He only responds with a slow hum, chuckling a bit when you rudely swat his arm off the wall, gaze following the natural sway of your hips as you mumble something in annoyance and walk away.

Backless…he thinks.

That’s right— backless.

An idea pops into his head, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. Without a second thought, he reaches out to roughly tug at one of your wrists, pulling you back towards him in one swift motion.

“The hell are you doing-” you snap, your voice trailing off into a sharp intake of breath when you feel his lips press against the middle of your back. “S-shuji!” You protest, heart racing as you feel the warmth of his lips press against your skin.

There’s a pop when he pulls back slightly to look up at you, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh? You’re going? With that hickey on your back?” His voice comes out low, tinged with too much amusement for your liking.

“Hope you have fun, princess.”

TAKASHI MITSUYA. he takes care of you when you’re feverish

“You shouldn’t be out of bed right now.” Mitsuya’s voice breaks the silence, and you stop dead in your tracks.

There’s an exasperated groan from you, your hand coming to rub at your temples. Of course he would be awake— you really thought you had waited long enough before trying to sneak downstairs.

“I want cake, Mitsuya.” You whine, arms folding over your chest. “‘M not sick anymore. The fever’s gone down.”

“Is that so?” Mitsuya’s tone sounds both amused and skeptical as he steps closer, watching the way you start to fidget with the sleeves of your shirt. You give him a quick and desperate nod to confirm, and it’s all a little too suspicious for his liking.

But before you can protest further, his arms come around you, caging you against the wall, and you suck in a sharp breath as he scans you up and down. His gaze is focused and intentional— and you feel your heart rate pick up.

“Interesting,” he whispers, warm breath grazing your skin. It sends a violent shiver down your spine. “Let me check.”

“W-wait you shouldn’t—” your protests are halted as he leans even closer, until his face is just an inch in front of yours. He thinks it’s cute the way your eyes slam shut involuntarily, your heart pounding against your chest at the proximity. His forehead presses gently against yours, and you can feel the subtle warmth of his skin.

“Liar.” He murmurs softly, his lips brushing against yours so gently you almost miss it. “You’re burning up.”

[smileysuh]

dark protector - TEASER

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

tw/cw. mentions of past relationship abuse/trauma/cheating, alcohol, bar fights, Cheol gets grazed with a knife, unprotected sex, dry humping, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, fingering, pleasure dom!Cheol, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, size kink/manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, groping, Cheol is a big muscled tattooed man, creampie, birthday sex, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.2k

🍭 aus. tattoo/motorcycle au, nurse!reader, soulmates, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  The tarot deck used in the prologue is ‘The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Guide Deck’ by Kim Krans. I had so much fun exploring a more spiritual-themed plot, the idea of soulmates and spirit guides and such :)

Seungcheol gives you the space to unwind. He doesn’t pester you with questions about the altercation with your ex at the bar, and you’re grateful for it.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks finally.

You shake your head, your eyes dopping to his hands. “You’re hurt though.”

“Just bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

“There’s blood,” you insist. “I’ll-”

“Tell me where your first aid kit is and I’ll grab it.” 

You direct him to the cupboard in your bathroom, and he returns with it, setting the case onto your coffee table. 

“How’s your shoulder?” you ask as you take out the tools you’ll need.

“Almost better, I heal fast,” he says softly.

It feels good to focus on his wounds rather than your own, and you gently clean the scrapes on his hand. His right fist is pretty badly bruised, and you do your best to treat it. Then you begin to slowly wrap his knuckles, taking your time. Two wraps around his wrist, diagonal across the top to his pinky, under the hand, to the pointer, diagonal- 

It’s a nice repetition of motions, and when you’re all done, you lift his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “All better.”

You look up at Seungcheol, and he stares back.

Then, he slowly moves in, carefully watching your expression. He stops just an inch from your lips, and you can feel his breath on your face. He’s waiting for you to make the final move, for you to be the one with control.

With one last look at your beautiful, dark protector, you close the distance.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.6k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr August 23rd, 2024

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

interact with this post to be tagged, priority given to reblogs/replies cuz tagspace is limited :)

[girlgenius1111]

alone.

i wrote this in maybe a half hour and it's very short but i was very in my feels so you get angsty sol as a result before the events of family line. sol struggles. there is change on the horizon, but she doesn't see it.

-----

It was the same every morning, the same every day. A quick knock would wake you, a second knock a few minutes later telling you it was time to get up. You’d throw on clothes that didn’t quite fit with Spain’s climate, tie your hair up in a bun, and go downstairs. 

Breakfast was always quiet, ever since the first few weeks, when Ingrid had tried to engage you in conversation and you rejected every attempt. She’d ask you a question that would remind you how little she knew about your life now. You’d snap back at her unintentionally, she’d get angry, and the table would fall quiet. Eventually, it just stayed quiet. 

You’d go to school, barely understand a word spoken to you. Scrape by with passable grades, most of the time. Go back to Ingrid’s house. Do your school work at the kitchen table, where she could keep an eye on you. Hide in your room until dinner. Hide in your room after dinner. Distract yourself with a mindless show, or more often, a nature documentary of some kind. Fall asleep, dream of lakes and forests and grass and mountains; things that could never be disappointed in you. 

You went through the motions. Step by step, day after day. Not really living, just existing. Not trying, either. 

You’d stop trying a long time ago. Long before Spain, before the small, bland extra bedroom you slept in. Before disappointed looks had begun to come from your sister. You’d stopped trying when you were still in Norway, still disappointing your parents. 

Back in Norway, you felt content being mostly invisible. Your parents ignoring you was better than being yelled at, though they still did that a fair amount.There was something about being here, though, in Spain that was just… different. 

Perhaps it was that part of you, little you, who still remembered Ingrid as someone who gave the best hugs and always knew how to make you smile. Little you hadn’t ever had much hope in her parents, but she’d had hope in Ingrid. That part of you clung to the idea that Ingrid could still make everything better, like she had when you were small. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t let go of that hope. 

It crushed you, time and time again, when Ingrid yelled at you, or frowned at a bad grade, or sent you to your room for being a few minutes past curfew, without even letting you explain why you’d been late [there’d been a turtle in the road on your walk from the climbing gym, and it had taken 5 minutes you didn’t have to make sure it got across safely]. When she’d sigh after another weekend passed, and you remained locked in your room. When she’d tell you to just try harder. At speaking Spanish, at making friends, at school. 

You didn’t have anything left to give. All of your energy was spent dragging yourself out of bed. Why couldn’t she see that? Growing up, it had felt like Ingrid had been the only one to see you. Now, though, she was just like everyone else. She saw what your parents saw, you decided. Someone who just wasn’t worth it. 

Ingrid had always loved you. Even when it was hard to believe that your parents did, Ingrid always told you she loved you. She hadn’t said it in a while, though. You hadn’t heard from your Mamma in weeks, the last text you’d gotten from your Pappa had been scolding you for spending too much money. [You’d bought Ingrid a birthday present, but he made you return it before you could give it to her]. 

Maybe you just weren’t someone who could be loved. You rolled onto your side, covering your ears to block out the sound of Ingrid’s loud laughter at something Mapi had said. Tears dripped off your face, and you wished you were 7 again, burying your face in your sister’s shoulder and knowing that as long as she had you, you’d be okay. That was back when she loved you, though. You were pretty sure she didn’t anymore. How could she? When all you did was screw up, who could love someone like you? 

You weren’t 7 anymore, you were 17, and you were all alone. In a house hundreds of miles away from home, with your sister who you felt like you barely knew anymore. All alone. You were beginning to think that was all you’d ever be. Alone. 

You didn’t know a lot of things, though. You didn’t know about the book shoved under Ingrid’s pillow, about troubled teens. You didn’t know that she’d stand in your doorway sometimes, just watching you sleep. Enjoying that, at least while resting, you didn’t frown. 

You didn’t know your Pappa picked up the phone often, but never called, feeling like he’d created a gap he wasn’t sure he could ever fix. Didn’t know that sometimes your Mamma slept in your bed, remembering the small child that had once smelled of syrup and brought her flowers from the garden. 

You didn’t know that Mapi stayed up late at night, duolingo open on her phone, hoping that maybe speaking a language you understood would make you feel more at home. 

You didn’t know that Ingrid loved you more than her heart could take, sometimes, and that she was just doing what she thought would work. She didn’t realize you didn’t need discipline, that you just needed a support system. 

Things would improve, but you didn’t know that. As you sobbed into your pillow, you were pretty sure you’d always feel like this; unloved and completely alone. 

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

going to bed to avoid getting caught up in The Sadness

[mooooonnnzz]

HIIII I THINK REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN! in that case can I have something about celebrating your birthday with the pines and co :3 LOVE YOUR WRITING!!! It inspired me to start writing my own gf things, thank you!

Mable's Surprise Birthday Special

Platonic! Pines Family x Reader

★ BIRTHDAYYY!! FANFICC!!

★ its funny cuz u requested like a day after my bday and then a day before the twins bday like what a perfect timing!!

★ tw: fiddleauthor im kidding i love them sm i had to put fiddleford here

★ 4,5k words

★ gn!reader

★ a silly cute fic!!! i hc soos is a really good baker

★ req r still open!

“Welcome to Mable’s Birthday Special!” Mable noisily raved directly into the camera that she set up on a stand. “Now, I know what you’re thinking. Mable, it isn’t your birthday! And you’re correct on that. But it’s a special someone's birthday!” She plopped herself on her pink chair, pulling out a large colorful book from below and slamming it on the table. Clouds of glitter powdered the air, a fit of coughs spewing out of her mouth. “Agh, glitter attack!” She croaked out, swatting away the sparkling glitter with her hand. 

Now covered in rainbow glitter, she broadly smiled at the camera. “Now, what was I saying?” She pondered out loud, tapping her chin as she looked up. “Oh!” She jumped up, looking back down at the book that was labeled ‘[Name]’s Birthday Ideas’. 

“My siblings birthday is today!” She opened the book, flipping through an assortment of pages before stopping and striking her hand down on a certain page. “Believe or not, this is all the data I collected on [Name] so I can properly throw a birthday party extravaganza!” She leaned forward, passion flowing out of her. “And today, we are going to throw the best party ever.” 

The footage unexpectedly cuts to another shot where she, Dipper and Wendy were decorating the living room and kitchen. “Hello, my fellow Mabelins!” She feverishly waves at the camera. “We are in the living room!” Dipper peeks his head into frame, his eyebrows furrowing. “Mabelins?” He repeats slowly. “Yeah! Mabelines. That’s what I call my fans.” She motions to the camera. “Mable, no one is going to see this.” Dipper blankly said, rearranging the party streamers in his hand so they wouldn’t get tangled. “Dude, don’t say that. That’ll totally ruin her spark!” Wendy tittered, taping individual letters one by one on the wall. 

“But it’s true. Who’s actually going to sit down and watch Mabel’s videos?” Dipper remarked, taking a measured step up on the chair then onto the table. “[Name] is definitely gonna see this after the party.” Mable leaned in closer to the camera, whispering: “Brothers, am I right?” 

Grabbing the camera, she aimed it at Dipper who was jumping up from the table, trying to stick up the party streamers on the ceiling. Zooming in on him, she spoke in an Australian accent. “And now, we have an orangutan in his natural habitat.” 

Dipper grumbled, stomping his foot down on the wobbly table. “Mab–Ahp!” Dipper fell, taking the table along with him. Mable howled out in laughter, running towards him and capturing him twitching painfully on the floor. “Woah, dude. Are you okay?” Wendy got on one of her knees, helping up Dipper from the ground. Dipper quietly fussed under his breath, sending a deadly glare to Mable who wasn’t even paying attention, too wrapped up in her laughing frenzy. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks, Wendy.” He dusts himself, picking up the discarded party streamers from the floor. “I’ll hang these up for you, dude. Don’t worry.” She takes the streamers from Dipper’s hand, much against his protests. “I can do them, Wendy. It’s okay!” He watched enviously as Wendy grabbed a chair and stood on it, taping the streamers randomly around the ceiling. “There!” She hops off the chair, putting her hands on her hips and admiring her work. “Now Dipper won’t have to be sent to the hospital on [Name]’s birthday.” 

Dipper sighed out, grabbing a bowl of confetti and sprinkling it all over the floor to make a confetti runway. “Thanks so much, Wendy.” A glum look fell on his face and Mable couldn’t help herself and zoom in on his face. “Poor Dip. Too short for his own good.” Bringing her hand in front of the camera, she waves at it. “I’ll see you in the next part!” 

The footage cuts off to Ford in his red turtle sweater and black jeans, an apron that says ‘Kiss the Chef’ adorning his waist. She aims the camera up at his face. “Say, Grunkle Ford. What are we making today?” 

Uneasily smiling at the camera, he hurriedly stirred the batter. Some splattered out of the bowl and landed on the counter. “We are making a cake!” He tried to sound chipper but he couldn’t hide the distressed look on his face. Oblivious to his stress, she backs up, showing the messy countertop. Batter dripped from the counter and onto the floor where a little goopy pile had been ever so slowly festering. And upon further inspection, Ford had clumps of batter and flour stuck to hair. The white powder was dusted in streaks on his face and clothes. 

“And who’s we?” She spun around for dramatic effect, making her own drumming effects. “Pumpkin, what are you doin’?” Stan walks in, walking past the spinning Mabel and peering his eyes over to the cooking cake in the oven. She stops nowhere near Stan and has to turn back around to show Stan in the frame. “This is my Grunkle Stan! Twin brother of my Grunkle Ford–,” She zooms in on their faces. “--If you couldn’t tell!” 

“Ford, the cake isn’t risin’.” He grabs a mitten and opens the oven. A blast of black smoke wafted into his face. “What?” Ford drops the bowl onto the messy counter, walking over to Stan who was coughing like a maniac while waving the mitten around to disperse the cloud of smoke. “How is it not rising? We added baking powder into the cake, didn’t we?” He snatches the mitten from Stan and slips it on. Grabbing the steaming pan, he placed it on the counter. “Is it supposed to be that color?” Stan grimaces at the muddied charcoal black cake. “How is the consistency still the same an hour later!” Ford scooped the slimy goo and watched it grossly plop back down on the pan. “Who’s taste testing the cake?” Mable curiously asked. Ford and Stan looked at each other before sticking their hand out, yelling, “Not it!” 

The clip cuts to Ford and Stan violently spewing out the cake into the sink or trash can. “What are we doing wrong!” Stan forced out through gags. “I don’t know!” Ford heaves out into the sink. “What’s goin’ on?” Fiddleford saunters into the chaotic kitchen with Soos following behind him. “Hey, dudes!” He waves at Ford and Stan who are still coughing into the sink and trash can. “Hey, Grunkle Fiddleford! Hey, Soos!” Mable turned the camera over to the newcomers. 

Fiddleford stepped into the kitchen, careful with where he put his feet down and went over to Ford’s side. He put his hand on Ford’s back and moved his hand up and down in a comforting manner. “Darlin’, what in the hell happened here?” 

“Me and Stan tried making cake.” The mention of cake has Ford’s stomach churning once again. “Oh, yikes.” He breathes out, teeth bared. “Hun, why don’t ya sit down with Stan? Me and Soos can handle this, right Soos?” Soos’s head perks up at hearing his name. “Yeah! We can make a pizza cake out of real pizza with like, ten layers!” Stan cringes. “That doesn’t sound right.” 

Stan sweetly smiles at Fiddleford. “Thank you, my love.” Fiddleford matches his smile, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. “Ewww!!” Mable shields the camera with the palm of her hand. “Cover yer eyes, Mable!” Fiddleford laughs. “You don’t have to ask me twice!” 

Another clip plays and it's Mable marveling at a beautifully made and decorated tall 8 layered cake. “Now this is how you make a cake!” She dips her finger towards the cake to snag a bit of frosting when she was scooped up by Stan. “No, you don’t!” He moves her away from the cake, placing her back down on the floor. “I feel like out of all the people here, I thought you’d be so strict on not letting anyone touch or eat cake.” 

“I just grow weak in the knees when I see a cake as beautiful as that one.” Mable stared at it starry eyed. “Alright, that’s enough of that.” His hand flop around the camera as he attempts to find the turn off button. “Okay, so how can I turn this o–” 

The next clip is Soos delightfully munching on cake with Mable beside him. “We just couldn’t resist!” Mable says with her mouth full of cake. “I just wanted some cake, dude!” 

Footsteps approach the kitchen and both Mable and Soos look at each other with fear stricken on their faces. Jumping off the chair, she grabs her plate of cake and shoves it into her sweater. Soos shoves the whole piece into his mouth, smearing the frosting and cake crumbs all over his mouth. 

“Grunkle Ford, have you seen my–” Dipper stops dead in his tracks, eyes wide at the marvelous cake. “Is this the cake I heard Grunkle Fiddleford talk about?” He whispers, his eyes looking over to Mable and Soos who were rigid statues. 

“This thing?” Mable jabs a thumb in its general direction. “I have no idea what this is!” She nervously laughs out, pieces of crumbled cake sludge out of her sweater and plops down on the floor. “Righhhtt…” Dipper takes a step back. “I’ll leave you two alone.” He sends a cautionary glance at Soos and Mable before walking out. “Phew!” Soos wipes his forehead with his forearm. “That was close, wasn’t it?” 

“Super close.” She grabs on a piece of cake that was in her sweater and munches on it. She offers one out to Soos who happily takes it and shovels it into his mouth. 

The clip choppily jumps to the entrance door to the gift shop. “Stan went out to grab [Name] cause we kinda left them alone in the mall. Sorry not sorry [Name]! But he’s getting them over here, so any minute they’re going to come in here!” Mable whispers to the camera. She’s hiding behind a can of monster eyes, the camera very obviously on top of the canisters. “Dipper is hiding in a box full of plastic peanuts. Soos is behind the counter with Wendy, they have party poppers in their hands. Fiddleford and Ford are in the living room. They’re act two.” She brought up two fingers and wiggled them. 

Distance voices could be heard coming from outside the shack. “They’re here, they’re here!” She loudly whispers. 

“Who’s idea was it to leave me in the mall?” Mable you ask. She snickered quietly and pointed at herself, the culprit of the idea. “We didn’t leave you at the mall? We were there with you.” Stan terribly lied and you saw right through it. “Grunkle Stan, I don’t know why you lie so much.” 

The knob of the door jostles a bit, altering everyone that they were here before it opened. “Why is it so dark–” 

“Surprise!” Popping noises came from Soos and Wendy and clumped up colorful strings fell on top of your head. Dipper tripped out of the box full of peanuts, running over to give you a self-Mable made birthday sash. “Oh!” You grab the sash, slinging it around you with a chuckle. “What is all of this?” 

“Happy birthday!” Mable popped out from behind the cans, camera in hand. “Say hello to the camera [Name]!” You gave a shy wave. “Was this the reason why I was left behind at the mall?” You remove the colorful strings off your hair and throw it at Stan who sputters in surprise. “Yeah! And there’s one last surprise.” 

“Happy Birthday!” Ford and Fiddleford jump out of the living room doorway into the gift shop, blowing a party horn into your face. 

“OH MY–” 

The frame freezes on you midway screaming for a second before it switches to a whole new piece of footage where Ford is covering your eyes, blindly leading you into the kitchen where your eaten cake resides. “Okay, ready?” Ford looks at you, a huge excited smile playing at his lips. “No, not really.” 

Ford ignores you and peels back his hands and bestows you the beautiful sight of your unnaturally tall wobbling cake. “That’s a really tall cake.” You watch it dangerously wobble to the side. “Is the cake supposed to be wobbling?” You ask, looking around to see everyone’s mortified faces and two stray guilt stricken expressions. “What? That’s ain’t supposed to be happenin’…”  

Fiddleford approaches the cake and oggles it, his eyes landing on a certain spot on the backside of the cake, a wave of fury flashes on his face before he calms himself down and very sweetly smiles at the little crowd gathered in the kitchen. 

The camera catches Mable’s nervous gulp. 

“Who was takin’ big chomps of the cake me and Soos made?” His voice betrayed his sweet smile with how snappy he sounded. 

“Wasn’t me. I was with Dipper decorating.” Wendy coolly said. “Y-Yeah! We were.” Dipper solidifies his alibi, eyes locking with Mable’s anxious ones. “You can’t point any fingers at me! I was real busy gettin’ [Name] back from the mall.” Stan lifted his hands up defensively. “Again, out of all the options, why mall?” You grumbled under your breath. 

“I was with you the whole time, Fidds.” Fiddleford smiled at Ford, his voice sickeningly sweet when he spoke to Ford. “I know, hun.” Then he changes back to finding the culprits who ate his cake. “He’s really serious about that cake we ate.” Soos spoke into Mabel’s ear loudly. Fiddleford’s gaze locked down onto Mable and Soos.

“Mable, sweetheart. Could ya quit recordin’ just for a quick second.” 

The footage cuts to a somber Mabel sitting in a cold desolate corner with Soos on the other end. “I got put in the naughty corner! What is this joke!” Mable threw her hands up in the air dramatically, having them flop down to her sides with a loud melodramatic sigh. 

“It’s only just for a bit, pumpkin! After we set up the table you’ll be back here! Same goes for you, Soos!” Stan’s gruff spoke from the kitchen.

“Okay, thanks Mr. Pines!” 

“Ugh, we shouldn’t have ever eaten that cake.” Mable dragged a heavy hand down her face, pulling at it. Soos’s stomach roared in hunger. A laugh leaves Soos, his attention turning to Mable. “Do you still have some of that cake in your sweater? I’m kinda hungry.” 

“I think so? Let me check.” She digs her hand into her shirt and pulls out a clump of cake that had strands of hair and sweater fuzz on it. “Our last one.” Mable whispered dejectedly. 

“Mable, do you have your camera?” Ford peeks his head out of the kitchen to see Mable handing a mysterious ball to Soos, the camera in front of her. “You’re not supposed to have this, missy.”

“I know.” She frowns deeply when Ford snatches up her pink glitter camera. Ford fumbles with it a bit, the last shot before the scene switched was Soos taking a hearty bite of the ball of cake.

“Is this thing working?” Stan’s voice spoke from behind the camera. “Yeah, it’s working.” Wendy confirmed, tapping at the blaring red light to signal its recording. “Today is [Name]’s birthday! Right, sweetie?” He accidentally shoves the camera right at your face.

“Woah, okay!” You giggled, carefully pushing Stan away from you. “It is my birthday. I think you all are more excited about it than me.” 

Wendy walks over to you with a party hat in hand. “It's like you’re asking for us to forget it.” She hands you the hat. “If any of you ever forget my birthday, you will not hear the end of it!” You glared at everyone, pointing at them in a smooth motion with your party hat.

“They’re not kidding, guys.” Dipper’s eyes have a distant traumatized look to them. “I have seen it firsthand.” Stan added, flipping the camera to his traumatized face before flipping it back onto you. 

You snap the party hat on you with a smile. “I feel stupid being the only one with a party hat.” You walk over to the box full of party hats and grab an armful of party hats. “Tune in and find out if I’m able to put party hats on everyone!” You make a swooshing noise as your hand descends on the camera, palm covering the lens. 

“Stan, that’s when you stop record—“ 

The next set of footage had everyone, even the ones who were grounded for a short while, all huddled up in a group, party hats on. “I got them to all wear party hats!” You cheered, picking up Waddle’s who innocently trudged into the kitchen. “Even Waddles has one.” You cooed at the pig before putting him back down on the floor. “Okay, everyone disperse! Time to start singin’ happy birthday.” Fiddleford announced. 

Everyone surrounds the decorated table with the wobbling cake. Each shove and push to the table had Fiddleford sucking a nervous breath in.

“Okay, ready?” Ford held up three fingers and started counting down by three. 

The whole room erupted into singing the second all of Ford's fingers were down. “Happy birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy birthday to [Name]! Happy birthday to youuuu!”

“Make a wish! Make a wish!” Mable thrummed her hand against the table. The cake shook and trembled and everyone watched with bated breath. 

The cake stills and everyone lets out a sigh of relief. “Welp, wasn’t that close? Am I right?” Stan laughs, slapping his hand on the table. “Stanley!”

The cake plunges down, splattering everyone with its frosting and filling. Silence filled the room. 

Waddles squeaks happily at the delicious treat, feasting on the piece of cake on the floor. You lick around your lips, grabbing a taste of the cake. “Mmm! This is good. Fiddleford, Soos, you guys really did a good job on making the cake!” 

“Thanks [Name]!” Soos is wolfing down a piece of his own cake that had showered all over him. “Glad ya like it, sweetheart..” Fiddleford sighed out, plopping his head on Ford’s shoulder. 

“My camera!” Mable cried out, darting over to her camera that was weighing down from heavy frosting. She fortunately caught it in her hand, wiping off the icing with the sleeve of her sweater and accidently turning off the camera. 

The footage clips to the last video Mable took of the day. You were sitting down on a chair, a table full of gift bags and hand wrapped objects filled the table. “We are now opening presents!” Mable exclaimed, chucking a fist full of glitter in the air. “Ah, my eye!” Stan screeched out, sprinting into the kitchen to run water over his eye, bumping into the camera in the process. “Grunkle Stan! Be careful.” Mable held the camera stand, keeping it still. After a few minutes of hearing running water, Stan walks out with an irritated eye. “Open, open!” Mable chanted. 

You pluck a gift from the table, flipping it on its back to read the name sharpied on it. “Okay, the first gift is from…” You squinted, reading it out. “Grunkle Ford!” You show the mysterious gift to everyone. Curious questions left their mouths as you opened the book shape gift. Shedding the last piece of gift wrapper, you saw what you had gotten. “A book on quantum physics?” You let out a pensive ‘hm’. 

“You could never go wrong with math!” He proclaimed, sticking out a finger into the air. You awkwardly laugh. “Yeah, thanks Grunkle Ford.” You look under the table to see Waddle’s resting on his belly. “Here, Waddles. I got a new toy for you.” You whisper, waving the book in front of his face. He brings his snout to the book, sniffing it before letting out a snort. He grabs the book with his mouth and places it down on the floor, he pads around it for a minute and flops down on the book, snuggling into it. 

“Next gift!” You pop your head out from under the table and grab the next gift by its handles. You stuck your hand inside and latched onto something. Pulling it out, you came face to face with a Mystery Shack coupon. You didn’t even need to guess who this was from. “Really Grunkle Stan?” 

“Oh, shut it. There’s one more thing left in there!” 

You place the card on the table and dig your hand back into the bag. You grabbed onto a bottle and took your hand out, your eyes widening at the wine bottle. “Um?” You warily look at Stan whose jaw is dropped on the floor. “Who put that there?” Stan marched over to you and took the bottle of wine from your hand. A few quiet snickers came from Dipper and Mable. “That’s my bottle. You get your own.” 

“Uhm?” You look back down in the gift bag and flip it upside down. A wad of neatly folded cash plopped down on your lap. Your eyes brighten and you look over to Stan who’s smiling proudly to himself. “Is this real cash?” You grab the cash from your lap and inspect the dollar bills. “How in the world would I ever give ya fake money? Put some more faith in your Grunkle!” 

You gleefully put the cash back into the side and place it beside you. “Up next is…” You grab a hold of a large square wrapped in Christmas wrapping. The name Soos was elegantly written on the wrapping paper. “Soos!” 

“Yes!” Soos pumps his fist in the air. “You are going to love it, dude!”

Peeling off the wrapping paper revealed the gift to be your favorite music artist vinyl. “Soos! These are expensive, how did you get this?” 

Soos glanced over to Stan and looked back at you. “I have my ways!” He smiled. 

You put the vinyl in your bag with the cash and moved to the next present. Fiddleford’s gift was next and he had given you a beautiful heartfelt note accompanied with a photo of you, Fiddleford and Ford. You thought that was it when he told you to shake the envelope with a wink. A few couple hundred bucks fell out that had you gasping for air. 

“There’s no way you just copied me, Fidds.” Stan pointed an accusatory finger at him. “We just had the same idea, Stanley.”

“Grunkles, Grunkles! Please, no fighting.” Mable stood in between them, her hands flat against their stomachs. “My gift is next and [Name] needs their full attention on it!” 

Mable’s gift was a conflicting mess. You couldn’t decide if it was cute or oddly weird. She had given you a scrapbook, innocent at first, but opening the book showed that she had been harvesting everyone’s hair and gluing them in the book, crudely making a heart full of hair with your name spelt in cursive on the inside. The pages following had copious amounts of glitter, stickers and the strong scent of glue, but they were pretty normal enough, sharing memories of you, her and Dipper in some pages and then others had the family all together. Then there was a page that had you sit back and question your sister's mental wellbeing. She had a whole page dedicated to candid photos she had snapped of you while you weren’t looking. 

She had a photo of you sleeping, brushing your teeth, talking to Stan, playing ddnmd with Ford and Dipper, etc. And to make it a little more weirder, she had made everyone write little comments of what was their favorite thing in the picture. At least what everyone wrote was normal…

“Mable, thank you very—“ 

“—Go to the last page!”

You flip to the last page that was blank. A puzzled look formed on your face and you opened your mouth to ask Mable what was this when you were pelted with a wave of confetti, glitter and sprinkles. A drawing of everyone holding hands launched out of the book and harmoniously started singing happy birthday. Mable started singing along, busting down her own moves, satisfied with the gift she gave you. 

You were coughing up glitter and confetti for the next few minutes. Stan came up behind you to pluck the stray sprinkles that got caught in your hair. Waddles made the gracious effort to clean the floor by eating the sprinkles and a bit of the confetti.

Dipper’s gift was more sentimental. In a rainbow colored envelope, made by yours truly Mable, was a letter that Mable and him collaborated on and wrote together such a nice letter that you doubted if your younger siblings really had made this themselves. With teary eyes, you opened your arms wide and they didn’t waste a moment to run up to you and jump in your arms. 

“That really sweet, thank you guys.” 

You held them in your arms for a minute or two before they let you go and went back to their spot. 

Wendy’s gift was a nice way to top everything off. Seems like she had roped everyone in it and made this whole poster board full of their favorite moments that you had shared with everyone. Branching from embarrassing ones that some were unfortunately captured by Mabel’s trusty camera to unforgettable beautiful memories.

“Who came up with this idea?” You ask with a laugh, looking at a pinned photo where you were mid horrified face when Stan was cannonballing into the pool. He was halfway in, water already sprouting out and ready to splash you and drown Dipper and Mabel. 

“It was a mix of Grunkle Ford and Mable. They’re surprisingly creative when put together.” Wendy said, jerking a thumb over to Mable high sixing Ford. “You guys really went all out for this, didn’t you?” You smile softly. A mix of playful scoffs and ‘of course!’ filled the room. “Who wouldn’t want to go all out for you?” Stan wrapped an arm around your neck, pulling you in a side hug. “I think we might need to drill that into yer head. Yer jus’ full of sugar, who wouldn’t want to give ya such an amazin’ birthday?” Fiddleford affectionately ruffled your hair. 

Ford hugged your other side, slipping a note in your hand. “Is this another sappy note that’s going to make me cry?” Ford chuckles, nodding. “Group hug without us? What is Mable going to say?” Wendy joked. “She’s probably going to kill them.” Dipper laughed. “Who’s killing wh–” She turns around and gasps loudly. “Group hug!” She grabs Soos’s hand and practically hurls herself into the hug. “Dipper, Wendy. Get in here!” They join in on the hug. 

“Happy Birthday [Name].” Dipper tried his best to at least give you a slight hug but everyone was so jumbled up together, all he could do was pat his head against your upper stomach. Everyone else joined in and told you happy birthday. Snuggling further into the hug, you smiled. “Thank you guys.” 

A warning beep rings in the air. “What is that?” Soos asks. Another final warning beep. “Oh my god! My camera!” Mable shuffles out of the hug and darts over to her camera. The frame freezes on Mable reaching out for her camera with everyone staring at the cameras with wide owl eyes. 

Pink glitter mixed in with blue plain text faded into the screen saying ‘Happy Birthday to the best sibling in the world!’ and the video ends. 

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz, @katharine3000

dm or comment if you want to be added/removed!!

i also posted my first fic on ao3!! it's a fiddleauthor drabble cuz i just love them sm. so if anyone wants to check it out the title of it is Amore Mio Aiutami (Main Theme) n my username barbatoz!! :p i'll only post fiddleauthor and billford over there :3

[lovingjingyuan]

It's Just The Past You Can't Remember

Blade wants you because you look like his past lover whom he married when he was Yingxing. The same name, birthday, face, hair everything resembled his wife who died to help assist him in his crimes taking the flesh of the abundance emanator that turned him immortal. 

This will be hard to understand if you don't know the actual in-game lore how Blade actually became immortal so I'll sum it quick ***Jingliu said something along the line in the quest where they all meet up. Yingxing is a fool for taking an abundance emanator's(Shuhu) flesh to assist Dan Feng in saving Baiheng but ended up backfiring turning him into a immortal, becoming a curse for him*** Yeah that's the actual in game lore in a quest. Hopes this helps understand! I changed some parts to adjust to the story but the one I just said is the real version.

Yandere Blade x Yingxing's reincarnated wife

---♡𓌜 Bladie 𓁍

Blade laid his eyes on you through the coward. This wasn't the first time you two had met on another planet. You were in Elio's script so he always knew exactly where you are and what your every move is.

Even if he cannot remember his past fully he knew out of Five people Three must pay the price. And he pursues those very words. He remembered that Yingxing, his past self, had a wife who died in his arms.

Jing Yuan and Jingliu confirmed those very words. Pictures of their engagement kept in Jing Yuan's basement confirmed those dreams he had of his past life with you.

So now he stood waiting for the opportunity to take you. He will never let anyone take you away now. No matter how long he'll always hunt you down on every planet you go to just to pursue you.

You laid your eyes on Blade while he walked towards you pushing through the cowards of people.

Why is he here? You think to yourself as you push through the people to get yourself out of here. Fear rushed through your veins as you hurried out of here.

You ran to tell the guards on this planet that a wanted criminal from the IPC was here. A stellaron hunter. This was never your first encounter with him where he constantly harasses you with the idea you're his past lover and he's here to take you back.

You can't remember your past life! And you don't know this man at all so why is he here?! Every relationship you got in was over in a heartbeat. They all abandoned you due to fear of Blade and his sword slaying through their necks.

To Blade, you're still his wife even if you can't remember the past. Can he remember it clearly himself? No, but knows enough to put the pieces together and desire to live through those moments once again. To him; you being a new person is basically almost a win-win. He’s not his old self you’re not your past self so why not start a new beginning together? Just a refreshing start, just the two of you forever. 

You stopped in your tracks when in one swift motion an arm wrapped around your waist pulling you in his embrace.

"Found you," the harshness of his voice rang in your ears. Cold blood rushed through your body. 

"You again! Why do you always do this?!"

"I'm here for one simple thing" his voice was deep and cold yet he was serious, "I came here to take back what's mine."

You plunged a knife into his abdomen. He grunted in pain but held you steadily refusing to let go. Those wounds won't hurt as much as losing you again. Even if the game and adrenaline is captivating as it is, he won’t lose you again.

"Is that the best you can do my dear?" His voice rang through your ears.

"I don't know why you're obsessing over the past! You're just a Stellaron Hunter. You should be focusing on atoning for your sins instead of this!" You used every strength in your body to push him away. It was never enough he didn't even budge.

"Why would I let you off so easily? You belong to me." His arms still gripped tightly around your waist having no intention of letting go. "You once belonged to Yingxing so you belong to me."

This made your blood boil. You held back every nerve in your body not to blow up at him calling him an imbecile and use profound language towards him.

"I don't know who Yingxing is or his wife. You don't have to hunt me down. Your wife. She's long gone dead. You know it so stop hunting me down everywhere I go!" You snapped at him, balling your hands into a fist.

He grabbed your chin tilting your chin towards his face. He blood orange iris staring into yours. You can see your reflection in his eyes. His pupils expanded. He was truly in love with the past.

Blade remains silent for what seems like a good while. His hands brushed against your waist softly holding you firmly.

"What if I want to reclaim what was once mine in the past?"

"Well, you can dig up your wife's grave then!"

His eyes harshed. His blood boiled. Even though he knew for sure you were his past lover. The dishonorable mention of his wife still angered him immensely when someone badmouthed his lover. “And you're the reason your wife died! She helped you take abundance emanator’s(Shuhu) flesh! Helping you betray the Luofu! Because of your selfishness, she died and you're immortal!"

Although you didn't fully understand his past relationships with his wife. You knew this from the books you read. How your past self had helped him betray Luofu out of love.

You know that you cannot deny that it may be true you are his past lover but a reincarnation. Yet your stubbornness prevents you from accepting the truth.

“You can't love someone from dreams and memories you don't even remember-" his hands covered your mouth preventing you from speaking any further as he immediately cut you off.

"I remember. My dreams are accurate to my past" He always told you he dreamt of his past when he was once Yingxing.

He continued, "You are her!" His words are swift and furious. He always reminded you that you have the exact same name, face, and birthday as his past wife.

"My last dream was you and me on bed during our wedding night." Blade always told you of his dream every time you've met. "You told me that you will always love and stay with me no matter the situation."

So that he dragged you away without your consent keeping you trapped with him forever. You'll live your life with him. And once this life of yours dies out he'll go on his hunt for your next life.

Maybe he'll give you the flesh of an abundance emanator to become immortal like he once did so he can keep this fairytale he longed for forever.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Summary: You are baking a cake for Bucky's birthday, but he is far more interested in the icing.

Word Count: 1,454

Warnings: nsfw, smut, oral sex (female receiving), slightly dom Bucky

“I’m not sure that you need to go through all this effort for me.”

“Of course you’re worth the effort, babe! Plus I promised everyone that they would get their favorite cakes, so now I have to deliver.”

“So essentially this isn’t for me, it’s for everyone else.” Bucky’s destructive thoughts getting the better of him, even on this auspicious day.

You put down all your baking equipment and turned to face your boyfriend, hands on your hips. “Now you listen to me, this party is to celebrate your presence on this Earth. I could not be more grateful for that. And if it means making cake to make everyone happy, I will do just that. Understood?”

Bucky nodded meekly, smiling.

The oven timer pinged letting you know that the cakes you’d baked were ready. It had been the aroma of said cakes that had attracted Bucky to the kitchen in the first place. You pulled out the fresh batch of cupcakes; they looked perfect. You were glad you’d hung out with your sister when she baked. She was a chef and made the most wonderful desserts. Bucky reached out to pick up one of the cupcakes, but you swatted his hand away.

“Not yet, you’ll ruin your appetite. Lunch first, cake is for the party. Plus you snack entirely too much and neglect your vegetables terribly.”

Bucky pouted. Why did he look so adorable when he did that? You weren’t sure if he knew how you felt about his pout, but he most certainly took advantage of that fact. You resisted his attempts at sympathy, with difficulty. Getting to work, you found the icing covering not only the cakes, but your fingers and for some reason, your face. Bucky watched you make a mess all over the kitchen counter, a mess you knew he wouldn’t help clean up. After a good half hour of creative icing and uttering a variety of profanities, you dropped two little sweets into the last cupcake.

“The sweets are meant to represent eyes,” you informed Bucky, admiring the little faces on each individual cupcake.

“I see,” was all he had to say.

“Buck, remind me never to offer to make a cake for anyone ever again.”

“I wish I were the kind of person who could stop myself from saying ‘I told you so,’ but I’m not. I told you it was a bad idea.”

If looks could kill, Bucky wouldn’t stand a chance in hell.

“Any chance you’ll help me clean this up?” You nodded at the clutter, hands held out in front of me, like a surgeon who had just scrubbed up.

“Of course,” Bucky said.

You were surprised by his answer, that is until you saw the smirk on his face. Bucky took your hand and placed your thumb in his mouth, sucking the icing clean off your skin. He worked his way across one hand, taking your whole finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your digits, sucking at the tips, the whole time looking directly into your eyes. Your breathing was heavy, panties already soaked with anticipation. Bucky leaned towards your face and you looked up in response, expecting a kiss. As he got closer, rather than aiming for your lips, Bucky licked your chin. You hadn’t even noticed that there had been icing there! He kissed you, hard, tongue in your mouth, you could taste the icing on his.

“Easy there, cream puff,” you said as Bucky pressed against you again. “You’re going to ruin the cupcakes!”

“The cupcakes are fine!” Bucky peered around you to check. In the process he noticed the tube of icing, which he grabbed excitedly.

“You’re not going to eat directly from that are you?”

“No, that wasn’t my intention. But my birthday, my choice!” Bucky quirked an eyebrow and looked you up and down. Your eyes widened as you realized what he wanted.

“Really?” you asked.

Bucky nodded and motioned you over to the couch where he stripped you of your clothes. It didn’t take long, you were only wearing shorts and one of his old t-shirts.

“Lie down.” It wasn’t a question, it was a command, a command you obeyed instantly.

Bucky climbed on top of you, straddling your hips. You noticed that his bulge was much more prominent than normal. He still had the tube of icing in his hand.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

You did.

Bucky squirted some icing onto your tongue, it tasted divine. Closing your eyes, you moaned, your chest rose as you took a deep breath.Bucky cupped one of your breasts and using the tube, drew a spiral of icing around your nipple. He moved over to the other side and did the same. You watched his eyes as he worked, they had a hungry, excited look which made you tingle. Bucky shuffled down your body until he was sitting between your legs. He disposed of his shirt and pants, leaving only his boxers and the clear signs of his arousal.

He leaned over your naked form and slowly licked the icing from you with the broad flat of his tongue. The sensation was almost explosive, even more so now that he had started to grind his hips against yours. You were starting to feel a little desperate for some skin contact. You ran your fingers through Bucky’s hair and tugged at it gently as he sucked on your other nipple.

“Bucky, is that all you’re going to be eating today?” you asked, breathily.

Bucky looked up at you and smiled wickedly, “not at all, Doll.” And with that he moved further down the couch, taking your legs in his hands and pushing them apart. He took one quick glance at your face before plunging his tongue between your folds and caressed your clit.

You cried out in pleasure, “Oh God, Bucky.”

“Doll, you taste better than the icing.”

All you could manage was a moan in response. Bucky laughed again and climbed up to your face, his whole body weight pressed against you.

“You’re not done already are you?” you asked.

“No, that was just the appetizer. I’m here for the three course meal.”

“Well you’ve certainly wet my appetite. Now get off me, I want a taste too.”

Bucky got up and pulled you to your feet. You stood face to face while you ran your fingers all over his body, placing kisses in places you knew got him excited.

“Do you want to try some of the icing?” Bucky asked as you pulled down his boxers.

“I prefer salty over sweet.” you replied, stroking him. “Why don’t we have the main course in the bedroom?”

Bucky took your hand and led the way. He lay down on the bed and you quickly brought him to his full potential with some well placed kisses and caresses. Before either of you knew what was happening, he was inside you, pushing gently at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. It wasn’t really necessary, you were ready.

“Hurry up Buck, I’m so ready for dessert.”

He was more than happy to oblige. Your hips clashed together as he pushed into you hungrily. Your hands seemed to be everywhere, greedily stealing every delicious sensation.

Suddenly Bucky slowed down. “You ready?”

His question confused you at first, but then you felt him throbbing inside you and realized that he was almost finished. You loved that about Bucky, he was always willing to wait for you, he wanted you to finish together. You shook my head. You were close, but you needed a little more stimulation. You reached down to help yourself, but Bucky got there first.

“Just tell me when, okay?” he said.

You nodded. It didn’t take much long after that, after a minute you were screaming at him that you were on the edge. He started pounding into you furiously. You clenched around him, waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Bucky threw his head back and swore as he emptied his load into you, ecstasy pumping through him with his orgasm. Bucky collapsed beside you, both of you breathing heavily. You lay together in silence trying to catch your breath, savoring the remnants of the bliss you’d brought each other.

Bucky spoke up first. “So you ready for dessert?”

You looked at him incredulously. “It’s your birthday, not mine!”

“I could really do with some cake.” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows.

“Fuck, the cakes!” You’d forgotten to put them in the fridge. You practically fell off the bed as you rushed into the kitchen to make sure your hard work had not been a waste of time. You heard Bucky’s low rumbling laughter float after you.

[allukaed]

𝘽𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙃𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙒𝙄𝙎𝙃 — 𝘼𝙄𝙕𝘼𝙒𝘼 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙏𝘼

synopsis - it was his 30th birthday celebration, and you both intended to celebrate it only with you, him, and your precious cat.

cw - fluff, angst, loneliness

a/n - i tried to explore aizawa's character in depth, but i really have this plot in my mind. i couldnt just resist how it played in my head. but im gonna go into detail for the next part. 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

November 8.

You were to celebrate and say I love you.

In the four tight corners. Front of the glass window that reaches the ceiling down to the floor that overlooks the rest of a busy city. Bodies are set on the soft and big bean couch. With a cute black-coated bento cake in your hands, your cat Noir purring in the middle of your crossed legs. Candle lit, and the minimal words of “Hot and Thriving 30” decorated atop the frosting and all.

Gleaming a smile, you sang – a cross between passion and mechanical – a silly rendition of your little happy birthday song towards him. He was smiling warmly, and he never looked happier than in his whole life. Other than the fact that he thinks the message written on the cake is ridiculous he lets it gnaw its way through his smile.

“Sweet,” his endearing nickname always makes your cheeks flushed, “thank you.” He said after your little song.

“Blow a wish.” You airily muttered, cupping the lit candle against the sheer motion of some wind. “It’s your birthday after all.”

He glanced at you for a long time before his velvety voice echoed throughout the room, "Do I need to?" he raked a hand through Noir's fur, "I have everything I could wish for."

You felt your heartstrings tugged, earning a giggle from you. “C’mon, just make a wish!” You urged playfully, affection seeping into your nudge of his knee. “My hands are getting sore holding this cake.”

He smiled small, as he usually does. He never frowned at you, at least during the whole length of your relationship, it was all a blank slate of a face that could lead to a tiny smile or sarcasm, but he never made you feel wrong or sad with his signature grimace that was reserved for his friends or students.

“Alright.” He scoffed like a princess.

“1..2..3,” then he blew his candle.

“What did you wish for?” You probed cheekily, smearing a dark chocolate frosting on his cheek which he groaned for, swatting your hand away in the process. You put down the cake beneath you and started to cut four equal slices as it was just cutely sized. He wiped away the chocolate from his face while watching you do your ceremony.

Before buying the said birthday token, you already kept in mind that he wouldn't like it if you went out of your way to buy him any grandiose gifts, plus only the two of you were celebrating, so you settled for a bento cake instead. Although, he isn’t that much of a fan of sweets than you are.

“Won’t say or it won’t come true.” He grumbled, grabbing Noir who was trudging near the box of cake once it was alerted of the food’s presence, cradling the cat in his arms instead. He lightly tapped the cat’s head, "Bad for you." He told the cat, rubbing the pads of its paws, something the cat finds soothing.

You pouted. “Why? I should be an exception!” You insisted, rolling your eyes defiantly. “C’mooooooon, handsome! Don’t be unfair.” You dragged, bumping your head on his shoulder repeatedly.

His nose crunched, the idea of you pestering him to spill was somehow annoying but still endearing. It was just another trait of you that he has the patience to stand for, but couldn’t for others. If another person did this to him, he might strangle them with his scarf.

Still absentmindedly playing the cat, “Fine, just stop doing that.” He groaned, and your eyes twinkled elated. “Don’t say a word though.”

“Why?” You pondered.

“You find everything funny.” He deadpanned.

You were trying to stop a grin form on your face, and although you wanted to, you pursed your lips instead. “I won’t.” Your curiosity alive was barely able to hold back from your chest. You motioned a cross over your heart to symbolize a silent promise.

He took a brief look at you before he sighed, running his hands through Noir’s black fur, soft paps on its stomach. His brows furrowed slightly and his eyes darted away from you. It wasn’t like he was shy or hesitating, no, but for some reason, he was thoroughly contemplating whether he should say it out loud or rather keep it to himself. Decisiveness wavered him, he thought you deserved to know, and that his fickle musings were out of the ordinary.

His arm reached to you, locking you in a semi-embrace, the feline was surprised by the gesture and it meowed from your sudden weight, subsequently taking its leave from the man’s lap, leaving you two to your own devices.

“My only wish is,” he began, dipping his face into the top of your head and gripping your body closer to his, “for us to stay together.”

Your breath hitched, his musky notes percolating through your senses, and you found yourself dizzy from his words, his smell, his warmth, his embrace, and everything. You buried yourself further in his frame.

“No matter what happens, I will be with you, and you will be with me.” His voice was low and steady, and you hung onto the timbre of it. “I just want to be with you, for as long as possible, and I hope you do too.”

It rained.

Was it an outburst of happy tears, or was it actually drizzling outside your apartment complex? You couldn't care less, because what he was telling you was way way better than any tears of joy or rainfall. He doesn't have the luxury of being an open book, unlike you whose vulnerability always showcases, so hearing those words coming from his mouth was like a messiah preaching to his crestfallen student. It was comforting, exhilarating, a rush — but out of it all, it was love.

Gentle drizzle, like a lover’s kiss, fell upon the parched earth. Four tight corners conformed the two of you fondly. Two bodies coalesced, with you listening to every jump and thump of his heartbeat rhythmically. You clutched onto him firmly, more than ever, as if you don’t want to let go. You love him more than a story could write itself.

“Sweet,” he held your face, tilting you upward, “I’m not a man of a lot of words, but I always love you, even if you don’t hear it often.” He chuckled, emphasizing on the ‘always’. You stared at him with glossy eyes, tears forming on the edge of your lids, and you had no words to say. It was all surprising, yes, you sure were expecting something, but not an overwhelming whirlpool of emotions.

“I…” you mumbled, but your words trailed off. You couldn’t figure out the right words to say. No coherent string of words can muster up the feelings you were processing right now. “I love you too.”

He wiped the forming tears away, “Cat got your tongue?” he teased, a sly smirk tugged his lips.

Noir meowed on the floor.

“No… I..” You blushed, meekly shoving him away from you, avoiding his intense gaze. “I didn’t expect that at all… especially from you.” you protested. If a thousand shades of red were a person, it was you as of the moment.

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow, “You underestimate me, Sweet.” He grabbed your hand and lingered a few light kisses against your knuckles. His stubble unkempt, albeit it adds to his manly charm, was tickling your skin.

Your smile reached your eyes. “Maybe I do,” you giggled, “show me this side of you more often.” Your heart was still racing yet it dwindled every second that passed. With a vacant hand, you gently brushed a few black strands out of his face. He faintly leaned onto the back of your moving hand.

“I’ll try.” He held the hand he was peppering with kisses, intertwining with his. You smiled warmly, and all you could hear was his soft hums and the fireplace crackling. Casting a warm soft glow of his backlight, inviting a cozy sensation to the living room.

“Cake?” You suggested. Seeing how your cat was taking its chances to steal a bite, which you declared inedible to it a lot of times through a series of ‘no-no’ and head shakes.

“I’ll only take a bite of yours, I know that’s all yours to eat.” He shrugged, hinting at your sweet tooth.

“Rude!” You exclaimed while Noir meowed like it agreed with what he joked about. You gasped, glaring at the cat. “No treats for you.”

With a few I love yous exchanged, a lovingly tender interior, and a small tribute of a happy birthday. You celebrated your man’s thirtieth birthday.

November 8.

It was raining.

You were supposed to celebrate and say I love you.

In the wide corners. Grey filled the vast space of the apartment. Darkness enveloped the atmosphere, and you’ve realized that it was no four tight corners. The walls were continuous in many corners you haven’t counted. The whole house was massive, recognizing that it was never actually small in the first place. The duplex was quite big for a single person, and you have never felt lonelier than you ever did before.

A glass window engraved bottom to the ceiling shows that the heavens wept, their tears washing away any plans or events of the people scattered along the city. Were they happy or were they sad because of the rain? Nevertheless, you couldn't say the same sentiment applied to you. Matter of fact, it wasn’t the clouds’ fault but you have been crying along with the skies since then.

Everything felt dull. No rush, no comfort, no exhilaration, and most of all — there was no love to be found. Only you who was sat on a big bean couch that was meant for two people, emptily staring ahead the window, observing the monsoon rain unleashing its despair in the city.

Ever since he left, the welcoming warmth of your — used to be, both of your — house turned to an unbidden coldness. The air was thick and damp, clinging to your skin like a wet blanket. You hugged your knees close to your chest, restraining the shivers escaping you. It was incredibly silent in a way you can hear your staggered lament and muffled chokes, truly an epitome of discomfort. A tremendous display of consequences after all of what happened.

Your cat announced its presence, jumped up to you with its chubby legs, and let out a meow beside you, purring incessantly. You sniffled, hiccups taking turns, not even bothering to look at the feline (which it isn’t amused of, by the way).

“No happy birthdays for now, Noir.”

There was a lighter within your hand and you fiddled with its flame. This was the lighter you used to light a certain man’s birthday cake. How could you forget? There was no way you could ever forget. Your thumb pressed and pulled away from the button over and over, warm hue flickering on and on. On and off and on and off and on and off and on and off. You mindlessly played it.

Until you click on the final pressure against the button.

“Guess it didn’t come true, Shota.”

You blew the flame but you didn’t let go.

[palioom]

just a game

summary: you ask joel to fulfill a fantasy of yours. after some thinking, he agrees, absolutely surprising you.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader word count: 3.2k warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames) ; cnc (consensual non-consent); some knifeplay, oral (m receiving); fingering; unprotected p in v; some spanking; degradation & praise; aftercare; light bondage

• masterlist •

It was late when it happened. Standing at the kitchen counter, chopping some vegetables to add to the soup she was making.

The wind whirling the snow against the large windows, howling outside like the wolves in the forests.

She was too occupied to hear him, humming away to the tape he had gifted her on her birthday last year, swaying her hips from side to side as she concentrated on not cutting herself.

Just some old tunes, some she liked, some she didn’t at first but was falling more in love with as she played them over and over.

Hadn’t heard the noise of the switchblade or his heavy footsteps on the wooden floor.

Too wrapped up in her little world, thinking about how much he would love what she cooked.

Only when he stood right behind her, cold blade pressed to her neck, did she stop. Inhaling sharply as she felt him press up behind her, broad frame against her back, his other arm wrapping around her and crushing her against him.

Her kitchen knife falling out of her hand and onto the chopping board.

“Don’t scream or you’ll regret it.”

Heat already settling deep in her stomach, blood rushing through her ears.

So today was the day. 

They had discussed this beforehand, and Joel had been apprehensive at first, unsure what she meant when she had brought up the idea.

The whole idea of wanting to be violated, to feel scared, it was strange to him, his look telling her everything she needed to know.

Feeling sad that he wouldn’t do this for her, but it had been worth a try to ask.

But then he had become interested, finding himself drawn to the idea of this, surprised by himself.

She seemed so excited by this idea, he couldn’t say no.

It was worth a try.

After figuring out a timeframe, and some safety measures, as he already pretty much knew her limits, she had just waited.

Day in and day out, anticipation keeping her on edge, just waiting for him to make a move, and now it was time.

“Been watching you for a few days, pretty girl living all alone?” He whispered against her ear with a smirk. 

Adrenaline pumped through her, despite the fact she knew this was just a game, it was thrilling, feeling herself grow wet.

She struggled in his grip a little, at which his arm crushed her against his chest harder.

“You better stop resisting, darlin’, or I’ll cut your throat and fuck you while you bleed out.”

It shouldn’t excite her, but it did, struggling in his grasp and swallowing hard.

“What- What do you want?” She asked, voice shaking, trying to get a look at him.

He ground his hips into her ass and she could feel him already hard, having to bite back a moan.

“Just be a good little slut for me, think you can do that?” Voice dark and dripping with desire, but also something sinister. “Be my little whore?”

Her heart beat so fast in her chest she thought it was going to jump out of it, nodding with a shaky breath.

The knife travelled down her throat, down to her exposed collarbone, pressing the cold, flat metal against her skin.

With one swift motion, he had cut one strap of her tank top, making her gasp.

Her knees wobbled a little, scared but turned on by all of this, a whimper dying in her throat.

Joel yanked the fabric down, exposing her breast and letting the knife glide over it, goosebumps breaking out over her skin.

“Please, I’m-”

He shushed her, right in her ear, making her whimper loudly.

“Good whores don’t talk.” He said, smirking.

Eyeing the knife on the counter, she made an attempt to grab it, knowing she had no chance and it would only aggravate him, but trying nonetheless.

“Nuh-uh.” He grunted, tearing her away from the counter after slamming his own knife onto it in a swift motion, grabbing her wrists and twisting her arms behind her back so quickly she had no time to react.

Only yelping from the pain as he roughly kept them there, fishing a rag from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Good whores don’t struggle either, what do you think you’re doing, little girl?”

The rag stung her as he tied it around her wrists, pulling it tight so it cut into her skin, but not cutting off the blood flow.

She trusted him with this, even though she simultaneously didn’t trust him with anything right now, tears in her eyes as he stepped around her.

Feeling so scared, so anxious, but also safe at the same time.

It was a difficult tug of war of emotions inside of her.

The smirk on his face was downright devilish, she had rarely ever seen it on him, whimpering as he brushed his knuckles over her cheek.

Gently, like they were just back to normal.

She found herself actually recoiling from him.

“Please, don’t- I don’t- Please!” She sobbed, his hand twisting into her hair, yanking hard, making her cry out.

“I said good whores don’t talk, sweetheart. Maybe I gotta stuff that pretty mouth of yours to get you to shut the fuck up.” His dark eyes were stern, angry. “Get down on your knees.”

She knew there was no room for arguing, but she couldn’t, sobbing again, actually surprised at how easily he put her in this headspace of danger while also being incredibly aroused.

“No, please- I’ll-”

“Down!” He yelled, voice echoing in the small kitchen, pushing her down on her knees, towering over her. She wondered if the neighbours heard, what they were thinking. “It won’t get better if you’re being a fucking brat, darlin’.”

She looked up, seeing him blurry as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Cry more, darlin’, only makes you look prettier.” He let go of her hair, hands moving to open his belt and then his jeans, pushing them down just enough to take his already hard cock out. “Told you not to talk and you did, maybe some cock in your mouth is gonna teach you how to follow some fucking orders, sweetheart.”

Wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, his other hand found the back of her head, fingers curling into her hair again. Joel guided his cock to her lips, smearing the precum all over them before giving her cheek a smack with it, chuckling.

“Gonna take it all, bet your mouth feels nice and wet.” Moving it back to her lips, he pressed against them. “Now be a good little slut and open wide.”

She refused at first, whimpering and trying to move her head away, but he kept her in an iron grip, yanking at her hair to get her to face him again.

“I said open.”

His voice was so cold and so dark that she did, feeling him slide past her lips, pushing in halfway with a deep grunt, stilling.

The salty taste already spreading over her tongue.

“Feel fucking amazing, doll. Now stay nice and relax and be a good slut for me.”

Slowly his hips rocked back and forth, forcing more of himself into her mouth with each thrust, groaning when the vibrations of her moans and whimpers went through him.

Tears still rolling down her cheeks, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth.

It was strange how she both enjoyed and hated it, keeping her jaw slack to accommodate his thick length.

“Just like that, ‘atta girl.” He grunted, enjoying the image of her on her knees and crying. “Ain’t that nice, mouth stuffed with cock? Bet you can take more.”

Forcing himself in all the way, she gagged, throat tightening around him and he groaned, having to keep himself from throwing his head back from how good it felt.

Her sounds became louder, struggling as she felt him at the back of her throat, trying to breathe through her nose, more tears stinging in her eyes.

Joel kept himself buried there all the way just a moment longer before he pulled back, letting her breathe.

She took big gulps of air between coughs, her jaw burning already, sobbing more, but also squeezing her thighs together, chasing some friction.

Joel noticed.

Grinning wider.

“Oh, someone likes that, huh?” He said, moving her head so she had to look at him, still breathing hard. “You dirty, little whore like it when I fuck your mouth? Bet you’re soaking your panties right now, wet from my cock down your throat.”

She shook her head, sputtering some words, trying to string together a sentence.

Unable to, her mind feeling like it was on a cloud, head spinning.

“If you love me fucking your mouth you’ll enjoy having my thick cock in your tight pussy.” He chuckled, his hand wandering to her throat now, gently squeezing the sides. “Tight little hole’s probably squeezing ‘round nothing right now, begging for some cock.”

She shook her head again, words stopping when he squeezed harder.

“You know you’re lyin’, sweetheart.” 

Joel pushed her back, letting her fall onto the floor with a yelp and coming to kneel over her, ripping the other strap of her tank top and pulling the fabric down to her waist.

It hurt, the way she was lying on the ground, the way he looked at her unnerving her, the air cold against her exposed breasts.

His broad hands cupped the soft flesh, squeezing harshly, rough fingers rolling and tugging on her nipples, making her moan.

“Got such pretty tits, sweetheart.” He chuckled, staring her right in the eyes.

And god, was that stare frightening.

Joel was too good at this.

She tried kicking him, thrashing her legs but he swiftly grabbed the back of her thighs and pushed them up to her chest, making her cry out in pain.

“This won’t do, pretty girl, fucking kicking me when I’m just trying to enjoy your pretty tits.” He pressed himself against her, almost folding her in half, hands moving to the button on her jeans and opening them. “Looks like someone’s gotta need to learn their lesson. Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ll teach you and your tight, little pussy just right.”

She squirmed as he worked her pants down her legs, trying to kick more but giving up soon. He was too strong and too big, pushing her panties into her mouth when she started to protest again.

“Now look at you, gushing for me, dripping onto the floor like the little whore you are.” Holding her ankles in one hand, he pushed her legs up, making her cry out again, muffled against the fabric. “And you were trying to tell me you didn’t like this. Y’know, darlin’, I don’t really like lying, little sluts.”

Whimpering, she moaned loudly when he swiped one finger through her folds, bringing it up to his mouth and tasting her.

“Fucking delicious, sweetheart. Wish I had more time to really get a taste of you.” Joel worked two fingers into her, feeling her squeeze tightly around him, her legs squirming in his grasp. 

Thrusting his fingers out rapidly, curling and scissoring them, he built her up fast, moans and grunts muffled as she squirmed.

The wet squelch of her echoed around them, feeling it drip down onto the floor.

“Listen to how wet you are, sweetheart, fucking dripping.” He chuckled, speeding up and curling his fingers into that spongy spot that made her see stars. “Gotta work you open a little, can’t have your pussy ruined the next time I visit. What a good girl you’re being when your mouth is full.”

Her orgasm took her by surprise, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she trembled, gushing all over his fingers.

“‘Atta girl, good, little slut. Get ‘em nice and wet for me.”

Slowing down, he finally pulled his fingers out of her, sucking them clean with a hum.

He let her legs down gently before grabbing her hips, moving to turn her onto her stomach, hoisting her ass up, her cheek pressed into the cool tiles of the floor.

She groaned, the pressure finally off her arms, still trembling slightly, fully exposed to him.

Her shoulders hurt, as did her wrists, but somehow it only added to the pleasure. A strange thought, that she was getting more and more turned on by how he treated her, all while tears still stained her cheeks.

Joel wasted no time, pushing himself against her, hands holding her up by her hips as he slowly dragged the head through her folds, then moved further up and teasingly pressed against the tight ring of muscle, making her try to move forward with noises of protest.

“Don’t want me to fuck your pretty asshole?” He asked, grinning as she shook her head but moving back down, nudging the fat head of his cock against her entrance. “There’s always a next time, sweetheart.”

Then he pushed in, sinking into her with one fluid motion, all the way to the hilt.

“What a pretty, tight pussy. All dripping for me, what a good slut you are.”

She groaned, tears in her eyes as he started a rough pace, pushing her up with each thrust, having to pull her back again and again as he sank himself into her.

“You look so good, darlin’, crying with your hands tied and my cock in you, feels good, huh?”

Her mind felt hazy, nodding as she cried, feeling overwhelmed by what was happening, the cool tiles in contrast to how hot she was feeling.

Like she was burning up from the inside.

A sharp smack landed on her ass, the sting making her cry out, which only earned her another.

“D’you hear how wet you are? C’mon, little girl, soak my cock for me.” He was losing his rhythm, leaning over her and pressing her into the floor with his entire weight now, his broad chest against her back. “Can’t wait to come back and fuck you again, sweetheart.”

Joel’s hand moved below her, finding her clit as he kept fucking into her, drawing rough circles into the swollen bud.

Ripping a second orgasm from her, her body trembling even worse, cries loud even despite the makeshift gag. The pleasure of it overwhelming, a mix of desire and shame rolling over her, burning into her skin.

Soaking his cock, hearing it drip onto the floor as he kept working his fingers over her, close himself.

“Just like that, ‘atta girl, ‘atta pretty girl.” He grunted, just rambling along, losing himself. “‘Atta fucking, little whore.”

He came with a loud grunt, burying himself to the hilt, filling her up.

It was like a switch had been flipped, as he slowly found his breath on top of her, feeling her still trembling and sobbing.

“Are you alright, darlin’?” He asked, removing her panties from her mouth, sobs now freely bouncing off the cabinets and walls. “Shh, I’m here, c’mere.”

Pulling out of her slowly, he undid her restraints, rubbing over the red, sore spots.

“Joel-” Her voice was hoarse, feeling spent and exhausted and just ready to sleep.

“M’here, don’t worry, sweetheart.” He said, gently picking her up and bringing her over to the living room, setting her down on the sofa. “You did well, wait for me, I’ll be right back.”

How easily he just turned back to normal.

One second brutal and unforgiving, the next carrying her like she was the most fragile thing in the world.

She tried to make sense of her feelings while he was gone, rubbing the red marks on her wrists, clumsily wrapping a blanket around herself.

It wasn’t because she was upset or terrified. Of course, it was terrifyingly real, to be subjected to him like this, knowing he could actually be capable of violence.

But it also felt exciting, the way he just took from her without a care in the world. His degrading words made her skin burn.

There was a war of emotions inside her, trying to shake that feeling.

“C’mere, drink something.” Joel was back, sitting down next to her, pulling her close as he held a glass of water to her lips, watching her drink greedily. “‘Atta girl. My pretty girl, you’ve done really well.”

He was soft and warm, gentle hands rubbing over her exposed thighs, his lips finding her temple.

Making her feel loved and protected.

Joel wrapped his arms around her once she had finished, leaning back with her on the sofa, kissing the top of her hair.

“Was I too rough? Talk to me, sweetheart.” He was worried about her, stroking her hair and her back as she slowly calmed down.

Joel had enjoyed himself, but this wasn’t worth it if she hadn’t.

“Was good.” She said, sinking into him, the warmth and softness of his body engulfing her, calming her mind and her nerves. Getting her out of that headspace, back into the real world.

Her hands wandered over his body, feeling his firm chest through his shirt, the soft belly.

“Did good, got me spooked.”

He chucked, kissing her forehead. “Guess I did. Did you enjoy yourself?”

She nodded, the hand on his side squeezing him gently

A quiet gesture, letting him know she was alright.

Sleep was already tugging at her, but his embrace felt so good, so safe, that she didn’t want to sleep just yet.

His voice soothing as he praised her, over and over.

“Did so well for me, like the good girl you always are for me, sweetheart.” He whispered, smiling. “M’glad you enjoyed yourself.”

Joel felt her drift off, just holding her tighter.

Feeling the need to protect her as he slowly found his head back in reality too.

“Thank you, Joel.” She murmured, sighing. “Liked it, felt good.”

A hiccup shook her, making both of them laugh quietly.

She felt safe again, his hands and voice dragging her out of the headspace she had been in. Comforted in his strong arms.

“Sleep, darlin’. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Seeing her so calm helped him tremendously, knowing he did it right, he’d done something she liked. That he hadn’t hurt her.

She nodded, letting sleep pull her under, feeling just safe enough.

“Love you, Joel.” It was barely audible, so quiet and words mumbled.

But he understood, squeezing her hip as his hand rested on it.

His response came in the form of a hum, allowing himself to sit here for just a little while, hearing her soft breaths, feeling her warmth against him.

It felt good, having helped her fulfill something she had thought about for a while, and despite her tears she seemed to have enjoyed it a lot.

“Let’s go to bed.” He whispered, picking her up. Careful not to wake her, smiling softly as he looked into her face, a little puffy and red but calm.

Yeah, he’d just make sure she got cleaned up properly in the morning and then they could talk.

Who knew, maybe he would get to help her again.

Maybe she had some more ideas to share with him.

[fastbrother]

Detention (E, 1k words)

Harry spends his eighth year recontextualising his relationship with Draco Malfoy.

Tags: Only One Broom, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Fluff and Smut, Praise Kink, Top!Harry Potter

Author's note: Drarry one-shot I wrote for @kk1smet's birthday. Thank you for creating such wonderful art for this fandom, and for letting me use it here! K's original art post can be found here, and you can see more of her art at the bottom of this post!

* * *

They’ve been fighting since—well, since forever. But also since noon. The sky is dark now, and Harry has run out of patience. He turns on his heel, leaving Malfoy to scream into the void.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” 

“I’m going back to the castle. We’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Out of the question. I’m not spending another day—”

Harry can’t think of many things crueller than the detention McGonagall came up with for them. Another day stuck in the forest with Malfoy and he might just crack. But he’s already cracked, hasn’t he? He’s cracked about a thousand times today. 

“Suit yourself. If you can find unicorn hair in the dark, then by all means, go and find it. I’m going back.” 

And with that, Harry mounts his broom.

“Don’t you dare leave me here alone.”

“Then hop on.”

There’s a break, a little silence.  

“Fine. We’ll go back. But I’m flying.”

“Whatever,” Harry says, too tired for another fight. He dismounts, and offers the broom to Malfoy. 

The sound of crushed leaves fills the air as Malfoy comes closer, then grabs the broom in one swift motion. 

They get on.

Why did Harry think it was a good idea to only bring one broom? He’s uncomfortable, seated much too low, and has nowhere to put his hands. He hates not being in control of it, too. Malfoy flies with too much grace, a sin he didn’t know existed until that very moment. 

Time passes slowly.

Harry’s just got used to the precarious balance when a Thestral whizzes by.

“Ah,” Harry says, against his will, and wraps his hands around Malfoy’s waist. At the same time—or was it earlier?!—Malfoy’s hand lands on Harry’s calf, making Harry swallow the sorry he was about to blurt out. 

Surely, Malfoy will say sorry himself. Or remove his hand. 

He doesn’t. 

So Harry doesn’t remove his hands either. 

They land, and Malfoy’s hand lingers for a second too long.

They’re silent on the way to the castle. It’s bizarre, because the two of them are never silent. They bicker in class, when they’re forced to sit together for “the optics.” They bicker in the corridors, when they bump into each other. They bickered all day today. And now they’re silent, too silent, and the ghost of Malfoy’s touch buns a hole through Harry’s jeans.

Their footsteps echo against the stone walls. And then they stop. They’ve reached the staircase where their paths diverge. Harry has to go up the stairs, while Malfoy carries on.

They look at each other, neither of them moving. Then, at the same time, they act. Malfoy clears his throat. Harry walks towards a broom closet. 

Malfoy follows him in. It’s dark, much too dark to see, but he hears Malfoy dropping to his knees. He lets out a sound when he feels Malfoy’s hands parting his robes. The sounds intensify when Malfoy takes his cock out, and puts his mouth on it. It’s all so unexpected, so wonderfully wet and generous, Harry feels around until he touches Malfoy’s head. He’s really there. 

Fucking Draco Malfoy. Is on his knees. Sucking him off. 

Harry finishes in his mouth, and only afterwards realises he’s been panting. 

* * *

Harry corners Malfoy after Charms. Since last night, he’s had time to think. Truly, he’s had so much time to consider everything that’s ever happened between them, all the nuances of their relationship, all the ways in which they came together. And with all that knowledge safely stored in his brain, Harry locks the door.

Malfoy sinks to his knees. The light spills through the arched windows, and Harry can look into his eyes as he takes Harry in. 

“Jesus Christ,” Harry says, watching Malfoy’s lips strain against his cock. “I want to fuck you.”

Malfoy is a good little boy, because he releases his cock, stands up and bends over Flitwick’s desk. Harry lifts up his robe. 

“You’ve finally shut up,” Harry says, inserting one finger into Malfoy’s hole, pulling a moan out of him. “I love that.”

Harry doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but figures out enough. When he’s close, he pushes Malfoy back on his knees and comes all over his face.

Malfoy licks it off his lips. He’s finished in his pants.

* * *

Harry fucks Malfoy everywhere he can. He fucks him in deserted classrooms. In broom closets. The prefects’ bathroom. He fucks him so much and so often, they’ve both fallen behind on schoolwork. When they get detention for it, Harry fucks Malfoy on the forest bed. 

* * *

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Harry says, looking down at Malfoy. It’s the Christmas hols, and all of Malfoy’s roommates are away. It’s the first time they fuck in a bed.

“You’re beautiful,” Malfoy says, and drags Harry into a kiss. 

* * *

“You’re insatiable,” Draco says when Harry falls into step with him after breakfast. “We have Potions in five minutes.”

“Five minutes is plenty of time.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but lets Harry drag him into a broom closet. 

They waste most of the five minutes kissing, and then another five undressing. By the time Harry comes all over Draco’s chest, the bell ringing is a distant memory. 

“If we get detention again, I’ll kill you,” Draco says while he picks up his robes from the floor. 

“Don’t worry,” Harry says, cleaning them off both. “You go first.”

Harry waits two minutes before going into the classroom. 

“Professor, sorry I’m—”

His gaze falls on Draco, sporting a red tie and looking at Harry in horror. Just like everybody else.

Harry looks down at his own green tie. 

“—late,” he concludes, amidst rising bouts of laughter.

“Shh,” Slughorn says, trying and failing at suppressing a grin. “Ah, nothing like young love, is there? But also, detention to the two lovebirds.”

Harry shrugs at the Gryffindors’ shocked faces, then sits down next to Draco. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, a hand on Draco’s knee under the table.

“I’ll never forgive you,” Draco says solemnly. 

That night, they fuck—and sleep—in Harry’s bed.

Super adorable chibi art of them fondling each other on the broom © @kk1smet! 💖

[yandere-sins]

Master Negotiator

I got around to playing the new event, and I remembered how much I love Jing Yuan! Good for me! So I wrote this, please enjoy! :D

Characters: Yandere!Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader Fandom: Honkai Starrail Warnings: Yandere, Mentioning of Captivity, Dub-Con touches and intentions, Negotiating with the captor for the sake of wanting something

"Look at the beautiful flower that graces me with her presence."

Lowering the scroll in his hands, Jing Yuan didn't hesitate to hold out his hand towards you, beckoning you closer as you stood there, anguished by the sight. The way this man could lounge casually, with no worries etched into his face while yours was laid in scorn was yet another testament to the power he had over you. One you wanted to dismiss but had run out of options to do so a long time ago.

He had all the time in this world to hold out his hand while yours seemed to trickle away like sand through the gaps in your fingers.

A smile captured his lips as you placed your palm in Jing Yuan's, his grip tightening greedily in the wake of your acceptance of his invite. His pull wasn't strong, it didn't hurt; but in a swift motion, he had placed you at his side on top of the lounge, back braced against his thigh so you may be comfortable sitting while he brought the back of your hand up to his face, pecking a few, devoted kisses.

"Do you enjoy your new wardrobe?" he asked absentmindedly as he watched his hand fall to your thigh, the high slit of the traditional dress he had you dress up in giving him all the range to run his fingertips along you leg. The underside of your thigh tickled as he left a trace of his featherlight touch from his calloused hands behind, and you straightened your posture and cleared your throat, not wanting to give him the wrong idea that you'd enjoy any of it.

Jing Yuan grinned at your reaction, letting you know he decided to misinterpret it anyway.

"I don't care much for it; the color isn't a favorite of mine."

"True," he mumbled, fascinated with the goosebumps erecting beneath his touch. "Because it is mine."

Lips parting in a boyish grin, like a child that had just opened his birthday present, you barely held back from rolling your eyes. Of course, it was; everything was his. His home, his decision, even you. Swatting at the hand caressing your leg, his thumb brushing up and down your skin gently in a gesture you could only call possessive, you uttered a quick, dismissive, "Yeah, right, well."

The hand didn't move, only stopped for a moment, even as you pried your fingers between your leg and his palm, never breaking eye contact with the man who held you captive for his own amusement. "General, we need to have a talk."

"Ooh," Jing Yuan lilted, but without letting go of your leg, he scooted up on the chaise, sitting properly this time instead of lounging. "We're back at General, that must mean my pretty flower wants something."

"Yes," you admitted, bracing yourself for being dismissed right then and there, even though you'd plead your case if necessary. But Jing Yuan remained silent, listening earnestly, boosting your confidence in the process.

"I want—" you started, taking a deep breath, "—a date."

His hand stopped moving. Time seemed to slow to a halt, an overwhelming silence filling the space between you two. "A date?" he finally said. "Why would you ask for that?"

It was an almost justified rebuttal to your demand. You didn't always have good intentions when you asked him to loosen the leash on you a little and let you roam. You had passed on many chances of trust from him in favor of trying to escape his grip on you, and they all ended badly for both of you—just in different ways.

"I heard the servants talk about a new tea shop, and I want to try it out with you."

"Interesting," was all that Jing Yuan had to say. He leaned back into the pillows, some of the tension you hadn't noticed before fleeing from his body. His thumb resumed caressing your thigh, and you let it, focusing on the matter on hand. He was smiling, but it wasn't very sincere this time. It meant he didn't intend to say 'yes'.

"And then? You're going to throw yourself over a railing again? Scream at the poor waiters of the tea shop to help you? Try to frame me as a villain?"

"You are—"

Catching yourself from hissing out how you really thought about him, you raised your hands pacifyingly instead. You were trying to get something from him, and throwing insults at your captor had never given you what you wanted. "Nevermind. I just wanted to spend some time with you since you were gone a lot as of late. It's okay if you don't want to. It was just a question."

Brushing your hands over the front of your dress, you patted your legs once before giving him a stern nod. "Good night."

It was a strategic move, one Jing Yuan appreciated very much. You saw the amused grin spread over his lips as you got up from your seat, his arm across your legs never moving away. You counted down the seconds, three, two, one, and with a squeak that was almost natural considering you were acting, you were scooped back into his arms and onto his lap, neither your back nor your head hitting the wooden backrest. As if he'd ever let you get hurt on his watch.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, hovering his face over ours. One hand was back to caress your thigh, but the other gently brushed along your nose and cheek, ultimately cupping your face. You thought of the countless answers you had devised when you made this plan, the numerous ways you wanted to answer but couldn't.

"A little," you whispered back, bashfully avoiding your eyes. You've gotten so good at playing him, something Jing Yuan had always told you. You were the only person who could do it—from whom he would allow it. He knew it was just a game, but you knew he enjoyed this more than true defiance—screaming, tears. Last time, you broke one of his table legs, and although the feat was impressive, he had been endlessly annoyed by the attitude you had shown.

This was more to his liking.

"So a little will make you go on a date with me, someone you say you hate more than anything in this world. If I were to stay away for, let's say, a year, what would that earn me?"

"Mhm," you hummed out loud, pretending to think about it. Raising three fingers into the limited space between your faces, you couldn't help but grin at your own charade. "Three dates?"

The jerk in the corner of his mouth was all you needed to see. Jing Yuan smiled a lot, no matter how he felt, but the joke seemed to have come across. "Just three?" he exclaimed in false horror, and you giggled before tucking in two fingers with only your pointer remaining upright.

"And one kiss."

"Now, that's a deal," Jing Yuan proclaimed, leaning forward to plant his lips on your temple before falling back. You let out a bated breath as you two watched each other intensely. The playful part of negotiation had settled, and as much as you hated yourself for pretending a role you never felt comfortable in, you were glad it went well. Things had been rough, and you had your fair share of punishments.

However, the root of the problem was something you weren't even sure Jing Yuan was aware of. As a long-life species, one would think he'd be familiar with the frustration and torture of being bored. Still, he didn't recognize the signs in the captive he claimed to love so much. Perhaps because, when you were with him, fights would ensure and arguments echo through the house. If it weren't the sounds of discontent, there were other activities you two would participate in—willingly or not.

It wasn't good for your health, but it wasn't exactly 'boring'.

"You know I can't take you outside."

It hurt to hear the words of the truth he had always defended himself with. "You are a target in the eyes of every enemy I have—and yourself."

"I understand that," you tried to reason, pulling your gaze away in favor of looking at the intricate details of the ceiling. "But this place is slowly killing me, Jing Yuan."

"How so?" he asked, a tinge of worry in his voice. His hand immediately reached for your wrist, checking your pulls in a not-so-subtle need to reassure himself.

"Every day you are gone, I am all by myself. I can't talk to anyone even if I look out the windows into the busy streets for hours, and the servants won't talk to me out of the fear you have instilled in them. You say you want to protect me, but the isolation is killing me more than any enemy of yours could. Every day is the same. The schedule you created for me is boring, so I won't get into trouble, but the monotony makes me yearn for any change, even the kinds you don't want me to think about."

Letting your head fall to the side, you watched the sternness edged into his face, his rules indisputable. But you had one more trick up your sleeve, the 'master stroke,' as he would say.

"You say you love me, but it's you who's killing me. I could never love a man who treats me as if he hates me, no matter what he says. I'll die never knowing if you meant what you said."

Rarely did the General of the Xianzhou Luofu lose his composure. He seldom showed weakness in front of anyone, especially you. If he let himself get dragged down, he knew you'd seize the chance to escape his power over you.

It made seeing the subtle, barely visible shifts in his expression all the more satisfying.

Worry, anger, realization, disgust, and resolution. The widening of his pupils, the baring of teeth, a brief look of surprise, followed by the dropping of his features almost as if in pain. And then, nothingness. Even if he didn't agree today, he'd think about what you said, hopefully for a long time. Perhaps it would cause him to right his way, although that seemed like a stretch. But you had made your point.

Slowly, with a slight groan, you sat up, looking around the room as if to stall time until he gave you his answer. It had all been show, until it got a tad too real for even your own liking. His hand around your wrist tightened, but you ignored the pressure as best as you could while you locked your eyes on the vase full of white flowers.

"Flowers wilt," you eventually concluded. "Even the beautiful ones."

And with that, you got up, Jing Yuan's hand falling from yours with reluctant defeat. You strode towards the exit, making a grand show of the feeble strength you still had by holding your head high despite having delivered the fatal news of your unhappiness and dismissal of his feelings.

"[Name]," he called out to you before you could reach for the door handle. You turned around, holding your head high as you faced him but keeping your expression as exhausted as possible. With Jing Yuan, you'd not fare well opposing him. Giving in had never been an option. But beating him at his own game? That was the way to go.

"Wear the other dress I bought you tomorrow. Prepare well since we'll spend the whole day in the city. I don't want you to be uncomfortable because of your shoes or jacket."

Annoyance seeped off him, from the way he was tapping his fingers on his thigh to the sharp gaze he shot your way. You approached him warily, the mask almost slipping as excitement threatened to burst out of you. This time, you moved quickly to his side, enveloping the hand he held out towards you graciously with both of yours as you planted yourself next to him on the floor.

Jing Yuan didn't need to say how much he liked the image of your thankfulness. The slight blush and appreciative glint in his eye were more than obvious.

"I take it we're going on a date then?"

You needed to hear it, and you needed him to confirm it. A deal was only a deal when he agreed wholeheartedly; these were the rules he had put in place.

"If my flower wants to go out, then she will. It will cost you this much, though."

Holding up three fingers, you jumped to your feet, leaning forward to give his cheek a big ol' smooch. Months ago, this would have been unthinkable—you showing affection towards him. But now you had new goals, new ambitions. And you needed Jing Yuan to be comfortable more than ever, even if it cost some of your dignity.

"One for now," you muttered, allowing the turning of his head until his lips were yours to capture. There was nothing innocent about the kiss. It was no less brutal and breathtaking in the way he demanded it as if it were a slash of his sword. But there lay sincerity and promise in the gesture, a mutual understanding that this win of yours would be on his terms, as well as a very subtle warning not to get ahead of yourself.

But by the time it was over, Jing Yuan moaned softly against your lips, signaling it was the perfect time to stop and tear away, leaving him wanting more. He'd have it if he kept his word. "And two once you took me on our date," you whispered seductively, your breath caressing his face in a way that was driving him wild. You brushed your thumb over his lips, and Jing Yuan let out a small chuckle.

"I've trained you so well," he muttered. The comment should have made you angry, derogatory and dismissive as it was. As if it hadn't been you who put all the effort into pulling this spiel off just so you could go on a date with him. As if it wasn't you who had to hide her disgust and hatred for this man who was ruining your life.

"I look forward to our date," you replied, not playing into what he wanted for the sake of your plan. If you started arguing now, it would have all been for naught. But all the acting, all the holding back finally paid off as Jing Yuan chuckled, averting his eyes and accepting his defeat for the night.

"I'll see you in the morning then, Master Negotiator."

"Likewise, General."

[shrimparted]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY R- what the hell do you mean I’m two days late

[ID: A Mob Psycho 100 comic set post-canon. Mob, depicted with chin-length hair and wearing a skirt, says to Ritsu, "I just haven't been able to think of a gift he'd actually like. And I want it to be special, cause this time he'll expect the party."

She looks down with a frown. "Especially since Teru accidentally added him to the group chat." Ritsu laughs with a "Hah!" and says, "I do have an idea, if you want to hear it." Mob smiles tiredly and says, "Please." Ritsu says, "Okay, but it's a pretty big gift so we should check in with everyone."

Teru, shown with hair past his shoulders, exclaims happily, "Yes!! I think he would love that!" Tome grins and says, "Oh my gosh, yess! Maybe we'll actually see him cry this time, hah!" Shou looks interested and says, "Oh for sure! I actually know a place we can find one!" Serizawa smiles, "I'm pretty sure his new lease allows pets!" Dimple squints and says, "… How do you know that," and Serizawa says, "How about we stop talking for a little while."

Next, marked "a few days later:", we see Reigen opening the door to Spirits and Such. The door creaks open, and he screams with terror when people loudly go, "Happy birthday!" We see scenes of the party: Reigen sweating and grimacing as Tome offers a cake with Ritsu laughing in the background, Serizawa and Reigen smiling fondly at each other with a heart floating between them, and Reigen looking dead-eyed as everyone photographs him and his cake-covered face.

Reigen, now cleaned of cake, flops on the couch and smiles, "Wow! All that's missing now is a present!" He sweatdrops. "… I can feel you all staring. Then he exclaims "Oh!" at the sight of all the kids looking happy and excited. Mob is in the center, smiling with anticipation and holding a box about the size of a large shoebox.

Reigen takes it with a fond smile, saying, "Aw, kids… I was joking but this is really--" He breaks off with a shocked sound as something shifts within the box. He holds the box away from himself and says flatly, "Is this a prank--" but is cut off by a laughing Tome shouting, "Just open it already!!!"

Reigen, frowning, exclaims, "No way! I'm not falling--" As he speaks, a canine nose pokes out from the boxes lid, and his expression turns to shock. "-- for that?"

We see a small puppy excitedly wagging its tail from within the box. The kids all talk. Teru: "Surprise!!~" Shou: "It should be a Shiba but since it's a rescue it's probably not pure bred." Mob, nervous: "… Do you like it?" Tome: "Who cares!! It's adorable!!"

Reigen stares down with silent shock. Making a hiccuping noise, he looks at everyone with an overwhelmed expression that moves to tears as he picks up the dog, making wordless wavering noises as he does.

The puppy licks Reigen's cheeks, and Reigen scrunches up his face as he tries not to cry. The kids exclaim: Ritsu, grinning: "Oh my god." Teru: "Awww." Tome, surprised: "Holy shit, he's speechless!" Mob, happy: "So you like it?"

Reigen sniffs loudly and says, "You guys…" Everyone looks at him eagerly. Once again crying, Reigen says, "Get out of my office." The kids looks surprised, and Serizawa sweats and wryly raises his hands, saying "Reigen--" Reigen cuts him off by shouting so hard he motion blurs. "I said-- get out." His shout is also blurred, and it's bold and in large font.

The final page shows Reigen lying down and blubbering while holding the puppy, who keeps wagging its tail. Narration says, "After everyone left, Reigen proceeded to weep in the privacy of the Spirits and Such office." Ritsu is shown facing away fromt he camera, arms crossed behind his back as he mutters, "Man." Narration says, "Ritsu was blamed for the whole ordeal even though for once he was trying to do something genuinely kind for Reigen, even if it was just for Mobs sake." End ID]

ID by @princess-of-purple-prose thank you so much!

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Three. Four. Five. || Toxic!Husband!Price

For @glitterypirateduck's “O, Captain!” writing challenge! I used prompts:

30. "I hate you but if anything happened to you I'd burn the world" vibe.;

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years;

78. Give us a "That's my Wife!" moment.

Rating: E Words: 3.3K cw: toxic couple, VERY toxic, insults, death wishes, smut fade to black, pregnancy. Tags: f!reader, you/your pronouns but no Y/N, miilitary/court martial inaccuracies, very bad family dynamics?, dark humour??. Summary: John and Reader are in the worst fucking marriage ever. A collection of moments, dialogues and scenes from their terrible relationship. a/n: They are SO fucking toxic and dumb, I cannot- This is also very different from the stuff I usually write. This is ALSO not particularly angsty, more so dark humour.

There was a time when you loved John Price.

With all your heart, all your soul (and all your pussy).

That time was when you were young.

Ages 14 to 21, you loved him. He was your first kiss, your first time. High school sweethearts, you supported him through the academy, he supported you when you went to university. 

You stayed together through his first and second deployments. It was like an old-timey WW2 romance. 

So many letters exchanged back and forth. All lovey-dovey, with faint pen ink and smudged blotches on the pages as you made plans for the future.

Phone calls with spotty service and loads of static, only five minutes per soldier, 5 minutes which he’d spend only ever spend talking to you, asking you to relay any other messages to his mum, dad, siblings so he wouldn’t have to hang up with you. 

Polaroids clipped on the inside of envelopes which he would then slip into the breast pocket of his shirt, keeping you over his heart… one he’d often pull out and look at during transpo, thumbs tracing your eternal smile.

Polaroids of yours, a bit more risqué, which he would keep tucked into a journal under his pillow, for his eyes only.

John would walk around overseas with a smile on his lips after getting a letter or a call from you, brag to his teammates about his “bird back home”, never going out to bars to find one night stands like they did…

But sometime after his second deployment and joining the SAS, the puppy love that had lasted for years started to dwindle. 

Slowly but surely, you found that you were both growing distant.

You assumed you were both growing a bit ‘comfortable’, perhaps complacent… like all relationships tend to get after a while. 

By that time, John and you had already moved in together and you were no longer consistently alone for months at a time waiting for him to return from deployment. You blamed it on that. Plus, you’d been together for years by then!

But it felt different. There was distance, emotional and physical. Whenever he cuddled up to you, you felt cold and so did he. The kisses to your forehead were meaningless, the dinners at home eerily silent.

And between the distance and the inability to make proper plans, proper dates, celebrate milestones together, forgotten anniversaries, overlooked birthdays… It turned into arguments. 

And one argument turned to three, to five, to seven… hundred.

You found yourself growing bitter, angry, hateful.

It wasn’t a sudden shift or anything.

Not like you woke up one day and the one thought in your head was “I hate him”...

But you remember hating him longer than you ever loved him.

You tried breaking up. And failed. 

Some… bastardised feeling of guilt came to the forefront of both your minds at the idea of throwing away 5 6 7 8 9 10 years together, and giving up on your first love… and maybe even fear of having to start anew with someone else.

So, you simply continued going through the motions. You got engaged, big shiny rock on your finger, all big smile, but no tears came when he proposed. Your families were ecstatic, not quite able to see through the thinly veiled deceit.

For the wedding, you pulled out all the stops, stressed yourself out preparing the ceremony and reception with the women in your family (and his! His mother and sister were so happy that John was getting married!), going wedding dress shopping…

You had a beautiful ceremony, John wearing his full dress suit, army green, with the beige SAS beret. You were both 27, and together for 13 years.

Then, came the honeymoon, which was cut short. Not that it was a true honeymoon. Just three days in a coastal town in Northern France, having to be within a day's drive of Hereford lest he get called out for a sudden mission, which he was.

Not that you expected any different from him. So the distance continued growing, as did the arguments.

You hated him. He hated you.

Then came the predictable “So, when can we expect some grandkids?”. You put it off for a couple more years, blaming it on your high-priority careers, the law and the military, so similar and so different; his lack of time at home and how regrettable it’d be for you to be alone through the pregnancy; the want to be ‘more present’ for the future kids, needing to wait for things to settle down a bit more…

You’d been together for so long at that point, 15 years under your belt, starkly aware that neither of you is going anywhere. The world keeps spinning and your relationship hasn't ended. Fuck it, might as well go for it.

And now here you are.

It’s been eighteen years since you met. Aged 32, you no longer have arguments, you have throwdowns. You pull out every weapon in your arsenal. Neither of you plays nice.

Insults are traded often. Death wishes even more so. And, more often than not, they’re delivered with such a deadpan nonchalance that you’re sure people would think you both psychopaths.

“Going on a mission. ‘ll be back in a few days.”

“‘Kay, hope you die.”

“So do I.”

-

“Just had a fender bender with a stupid bloke. The car’s at the shop. Taking an uber to the base to get your car.”

“Okay. Shame you didn’t die a fiery death.”

“Don’t remind me, already cried about it.”

-

"I'm getting discharged."

"Why?"

"Shot."

"And it couldn't have killed you?"

-

“Can you get out of the damn toilet? I’m bleeding.”

“Period, accident, or just part of your satanic rituals?”

“Period.”

“Tough luck. Hope you bleed out.”

It never gets physical, never violent. John would rather die than lay a hand on you and you’d never DARE lay one on him. It’s just a lot of yelling, a lot of insulting, a lot of throwing things around, and, especially, a lot of revenge plans being executed to drive each other crazy.

Like recently. You found out John had gotten a grey-haired wig about the same length and texture as your hair, and has been snipping off a few hairs at a time, planting them around the house to blame you for leaving your hair everywhere, while simultaneously making you feel like you’re going grey. So, you put grey hair box dye in his shampoo and beard oil, to make him think he’s going grey.

Or three months ago, when you replaced all your lightbulbs with dimmer ones and lowered the brightness on all electronics, to make him think his eyesight was starting to go bad. You drove him so mad that he had voluntarily signed up for sniper assessments because he was worried he’d become a liability for the team.

Or eight months ago, when John had to return home in the middle of the day wearing a ruined uniform and just about ready to blow smoke out of his ears, having ripped holes in the uniform midway through a meeting all because 2 or so weeks prior you had painstakingly undone part of the stitching on it after an argument, and that had resulted in him baring his hairy thighs and armpits to a boardroom full of officers.

It’s bad. Very bad. You’ve had your windows and doors insulated to make sure the neighbors don’t hear your screaming matches and call the cops on the “domestic violence” happening next door. 

You probably shouldn’t have kids with this man. And yet-

He drives you insane.

And you’ve TRIED to fix it! You did. Marriage counseling, rage rooms, axe-throwing, paintball matches, yoga, meditation.… Nothing worked! In fact, it only infuriated you more because:

“You’ve got a tactical advantage, you need to play with a handicap!”

“Tough luck, sweetheart. Get good or get shot!”.

-

“You can throw harder than that.”

“Oh, I’ll show ya throwing hard, you gobshite!”

“Okay, when are you planning to start?”

-

“My back hurts-”

“Because you’re getting old.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m just telling you the truth. Face it, John, if the downward dog hurts your back, then you’re old.”

-

“Can you breathe any louder?”

“Yes, I can. Wanna see?”

“Just shut up. I can’t hear myself think.”

“Not much to hear either way, pretty hollow in there.”

“I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, sweetness.”

There are only three occasions when you’re not actively at each other’s throats. Other, then, of course, when John’s working, especially when he’s overseas. You can’t fight if he’s both a) not home and b) unreachable via calls or texts or e-mails.

When you need a favor from the other, something you can’t quite do, or that falls in the other’s ‘jurisdiction’ in house chores.

“The washing machine’s leaking.”

“Turn off the water main, I’ll go check in a sec.”

“Mkay.”

-

“Here. Popped a button.”

“I don’t have any more army green thread.”

“Then use brown or black or whatever.”

-

“Where are your car keys?”

“What for?”

“Going to get it washed and detailed.”

“My purse.”

-

“You’re not gonna wear that, are you?”

“Why?”

“Besides the fact that it’s wrinkly? That’s a ‘house’ shirt, not a ‘going out’ shirt. Wear this one instead.”

2. When you’re both complaining or dealing with an outside force, a 3rd party, together.

"Excuse me, hi, I'm sending this back it's not cooked the way I asked."

"Ma'am that's exactly what you-"

"Are you calling my wife a liar?"

-

“Oh, fuck no. Why the fuck is he winning the Great British Bake Off?"

"Hm? Oh- oh! Yeah, why the fuck is he winning?"

“Bloody hell, he rolled his pastry too thin and had watery pie filling-”

“Wankers. This is not fair.”

-

“John. John!”

“What?”

“Look-”

“Blood hell, he’s back early-”

“Yeah and her boytoy’s car still there. They’re definitely still going at it.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

-

“Excuse me! Hey, excuse me! Pick up after your bloody dog! NO, don’t you start with me, you keep leaving your dog’s shite right by our garden, don’t you see the sign my husband’s posted up?! Pick it up or I’ll do it and then drop it in your garden.”

3. During sex.

Marching into the bedroom after breakfast, you find John combing through his hair in the bathroom mirror. The room is steamy from the hot shower he just took. 

“Take your trousers off. I’m ovulating.” You warn him as you wave your phone in the air, showing off the period tracking app.

“I literally just showered.” John replies as you’re already shrugging off your robe and pajamas.

“Well, believe or not, I don’t control my ovaries, John.” You reply. “Now take your trousers off.”

“Already on it.” He replies as he already starts taking off his shirt and sweatpants, leaving them on a pile on the floor, before his boxer briefs follow suit.

His hand palms his cock as you’re getting comfortable on the bed, tugging on it lightly as he watches your fingers do the same between your legs. 

“Can we try to enjoy it this time?” He asks you in earnest.

“Sure.” You reply simply. “Been a while since we’ve had proper sex and not…”

“Not a breeding session?” He quips as he kneels on the bed between your parted thighs. His hand replaces yours and he starts rubbing your clit for you.

“Shut it…” You quip, while your own hand wraps around his cock, stroking it slowly. John lowers himself onto you and his lips slowly brush against yours before he kisses you.

No, as it turns out… There are actually four occasions when you’re not actively at each other’s throats:

4. The Kid

In a day like any other, you’re lying in bed, reading a book. It’s a lazy Sunday morning, your big, round belly feeling particularly heavy. You’ve stolen every other pillow in the house to try and find some comfort, which you fail remarkably at.

“I think I’m going grey.” John states to no one in particular.

He’s in the en-suite bathroom, applying beard oil across his mutton chops like he tends to do, about three times a week.

“You are.” You remark in a bored, dismissive tone as you read a book in bed.

“That’s not funny. I’m not that old.”

“You’re getting up there.”

“Look who’s talking, we’re the same age.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Jonathan?”

“It means you’re there yourself, darling.”

Raising your eyes from the book in your hands, the bottom of which rests atop your pregnant belly, you cock a brow at your ‘beloved’ husband.

“And this is coming from Santa Claus?” You retort swiftly.

John peeks his head out of the bathroom door to look at you. “You think you’ve got a leg to stand on, you crone?”

Grunting under your breath, you glare at him, and he glares at you, complete silence in the bedroom. 

There’s something in that face of his, the look in his eyes, those STUPID fucking mutton chops that you’ve told him to shave and he refuses…

Grabbing your book and rolling it into a cylinder, you hurl it at him, putting as much force behind your arm as you possibly can. It misses the mark, but only because he had the presence of mind to duck. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ knobhead!” You insult him, tongue dripping with bitterness.

“Wel, not like I can be anything else, really, when I’m married to such a raging cunt.” He retorts.

“OH FUCK YOU!” You retort.

“ALREADY AM MORE THAN FUCKED, SPENDING THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH YOU.”

“OH, PLEASE, YOU’RE MORE MARRIED TO YOUR BLOODY GUN THAN YOU ARE TO ME!”

“YEAH CAUSE AT LEAST MY GUN DOESN’T DRIVE ME FUCKING MENTAL!”

“OH PISS OFF!” You shout, your face twisting with a scowl.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be stressing yourself out like this. It’s not good for your blood pressure. Or for John Junior.”

“First of all, it’s not gonna be a boy. Secondly, even if it is a boy, we’re not naming him after you. And thirdly, how about you die, then I won’t get stressed.”

“And why would I do that, when I can stay right here, perfectly alive and healthy, and watch you give birth to John Junior, and have the pleasure of rubbing a ‘I told you so’ right in your face?”

“Oh fuck you. It’s not going to happen.” You sulk and cross your arms over your chest, leaning back against your mountain of pillows.

“Someone doesn’t like the idea of having a son that takes after me, hm??” John teases as he comes up to the bed, a brow cocked.

You trail him with your eyes as he sits next to you on the bed. “Absolutely not. I wanna have a child I actually am able to love, and not one that I have to lie to.”

“A mother’s love knows no bounds, huh? What a load of crap.” John quips.

“Oh, that’s 100% true. I love this baby to bits already, but if it takes after you… I’ll probably die.”

“Good.” John remarks, causing you to roll your eyss. “Much better than if our child takes after you. Spawn of Satan, he would be.” John’s hand slides up your leg and slowly cups your swollen stomach.

“I should probably address the fact you just called our child ‘Satan’s spawn’, but I’m more concerned over the fact you keep calling the baby a ‘son’.” You murmur as you uncross your arms and watch him caress your skin.

“I feel like it’s a boy, I don’t know what to tell you.” He replies as his calloused fingers drag over the stretch marks and linea nigra on your stomach.

“What if it’s a girl?”

“What about it?”

“I’ve seen enough men online getting pissy over havin’ a daughter.” You quip and cock a brow up, looking him in the eyes.

John’s eyes lock onto yours. “Not me.” Then they return to the belly as he continues rubbing you. “Would love a little girl too.”

“Hm.” You remark and slowly, your hand rubs over the belly on the opposite side, where John’s hand isn’t. “We’ve gotta promise not to yell or argue in front of the baby.”

“Kind of hard to do that when I’m married to the Devil.” John quips, causing you to look up at him, eyes narrowed.

“You’ve gotta promise. We’ve gotta promise.” You murmur as you look at him.

For a moment, his usually grumpy face softens and he nods. “I promise.”

Nodding as well, you echo the sentiment. “I promise.”

No, wait, five:

5. When you have his back.

“General, that is not what I asked you. I would ask that you stop beating around the bush, feeding me, the jury, and the people watching at home, fabricated information and embellished words in a sorry attempt to save your credibility. Stick to the questions being asked and stop wasting our times.” You warned the man as you paced the space in front of the stand.

“Me and everyone else in this room are looking for nothing but the truth, or must I remind you that you are under oath and also live on television?” You ask outloud as you turn to look at him.

“No, counselor.” The General, a heavy-set, older, mustachioed man replies, through gritted teeth, his face showing a polite expression while the man himself was seething on the inside.

“Very well, then, I’ll repeat the question. Were you or were you not aware of the aforementioned, unsactioned operations being conducted in the Al-Mazarah and Urzikstan border, involving CIA and MI6 operatives?” You asked, eyes glaring into the man’s eyes as you leaned into the stand near him.

“Well, as with most operations...”

“A yes or no is enough, General.” You told him sternly.

“Yes.” The man grits out.

“And did you, or did you not, give permission for these CIA and MI6 operatives, working under the guise of NATO, and I quote, from the transcript: “Authority to use any means necessary” on the enemy forces?” You confronted him.

“Well-”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“And did you do that while being aware that the teams involved would interpret such command as permission to execute an operation in which they’d use ‘extreme physical persuasion’ or, in other words, torture to achieve their goals?”

“I-”

“Did you or did you not, General?”

“Yes, but-”

“And did you, or did you not, not only demand the censoring of the clear and transparent reports received in the aftermath of that operation but also sign off on them yourself, to circumvent the proper channels of evaluation, which would force an internal audit to be conducted?”

“Yes-”

“So, in short, you just confirmed that you authorized your troops to, essentially, wipe their asses with the Geneva convention and comit war crimes on the POWs under their care?”

“Counselor-” One of the judges called out.

“Withdrawn. No further questions, Mr. Chairman.” You told the Chairman and the jury panel that sat above you, as you swiftly turned around and marched up to your table, high heels clacking on the polished floors of the court room.

Your eyes locked onto John’s as he sat in the back of the room, wearing his full regalia, his eyes locked onto yours with a strange shine to them… Almost like he’s proud of you.

As soon as you sit on the chair and the Chairman once again takes over, addressing the room, the General, calling other witnesses, your phone’s screen lights up on the chair next to you.

Picking it up quietly, you spot a message of John’s:

John: that’s my girl. knew you could do it. you: you owe me big time. John: i do. saved my arse there. you: of course. it’s what I’m here for.  John: almost making it sound like you love me. you: no but I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. you: no way in hell you’re leaving me alone with 3 children. John: i see. selfish woman. you: shut up.  you: and try not torturing POWs next time. John: yes, ma’am.

Five occasions seem to be enough to keep a 23-year marriage afloat.

a/n: Big thanks to my beloved @crashtestbunny for helping draft/plot all these interactiions and just the general toxicity! And also @mothymunson your beloved Toxic!Price is here!

[ O, Captain! Masterlist ] || [ My Masterlist ]

[skywalker1dream]

Title: Lost and Found in Monaco

Note: Helloo guysss, I can't believe it's been so long and so much has happened!! I started working, met new people and now we are good friends. I hope everyone is well and i you all are having a great summer! And OH MY GOD? 125 FOLLOWERS?? THANK YOU SO MUCH!❤️❤️

Sebastian vettel x fem!reader

Warnings: none?

Summary: let's just say one word "Soulmate's"

[⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️]

[⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️]

Part one: The Soulmate's Myth

Sebastian Vettel had always known the stories. Everyone did. From the moment a child could comprehend language, they were told tales of the soulmates—a person born just for you, a perfect match that would make your heart sing. For most people, it happened quickly. A touch, a glance, sometimes even a name heard in passing, and you just *knew*. You’d feel the warmth in your chest, the invisible string tying you to someone else. It was as real and undeniable as gravity.

But for Sebastian, that connection had never come.

He was surrounded by stories of love and fate. He had watched with quiet envy as friends and family found their other halves. He heard about the rush of meeting your soulmate, the sudden certainty that you had found the one person who completed you in every way. But Sebastian, despite all his accomplishments and fame in Formula 1, despite being adored by fans around the world, was left with a growing emptiness.

As the years passed, Sebastian became increasingly convinced that something was wrong with him. Was he broken? Defective? He masked his worries with the thrill of racing, the roar of engines drowning out the silent fears that plagued him. But when the race was over, and the adrenaline faded, he was left with the cold, stark truth: he was alone.

The rumors started, whispers among the media and even within the paddock. "Why hasn’t Vettel found his soulmate?" they asked. Was it possible that one of the sport's brightest stars was meant to shine alone? Sebastian did his best to ignore the speculation, but it gnawed at him, deepening the void.

And then, there was you.

Part two: A Shared Loneliness

You were not so different from Sebastian. Born into a world where everyone had a destined partner, you had grown up with the same stories, the same hopes. But, like Sebastian, you had never felt that fateful connection. The years went by, and with each passing birthday, your hope dimmed.

It wasn't that you were unhappy; you had a good life, a solid career, friends who loved you. But there was a piece missing, a shadow that followed you no matter how bright the day. You were certain that you would never find your soulmate, that you would forever be the one left behind.

People tried to comfort you, to tell you that perhaps your soulmate was still out there, waiting to be found. But you had stopped believing in those words long ago. You went through the motions, attending weddings, celebrating friends' and siblings' soulmate connections, but inside, you were numb.

The idea of soulmates had once filled you with hope, but now it was a burden, a cruel joke that life had played on you. And so, you threw yourself into your work, into your passions, trying to fill the void with anything that could distract you from the painful truth.

It was your love of racing that brought you to Monaco that fateful weekend. As a lifelong fan of Formula 1, you had always dreamed of attending the Monaco Grand Prix, the crown jewel of the racing calendar. The glittering harbor, the streets transformed into a high-speed circuit, the world’s best drivers navigating the treacherous corners—it was everything you had imagined.

You were there to enjoy the race, to lose yourself in the speed and the spectacle. You had no idea that your life was about to change forever.

Part three: The Collision

Monaco was buzzing with excitement as the race weekend began. The narrow streets were packed with spectators, the air filled with the sounds of engines revving and fans cheering. You wandered through the paddock, trying to soak it all in, feeling a rare sense of peace as you lost yourself in the world of racing.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was in a foul mood. The track had always been one of his favorites, but this year, it felt different. The usual thrill was overshadowed by a persistent sense of unease. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something, something important. It gnawed at him, making him restless and irritable.

He was walking through the paddock, his mind elsewhere, when it happened. You were turning the corner, your attention caught by a display of racing memorabilia, when you collided with something—no, someone—solid. The impact sent you stumbling, your heart racing from the sudden jolt.

Sebastian barely registered the collision until he looked down and saw you. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. You were just a stranger, someone he had never seen before, and yet…

You felt it too. That strange, inexplicable pull, like a magnetic force drawing you closer to him. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up into his eyes, eyes that seemed to hold the same shock, the same recognition that you were feeling.

Sebastian blinked, trying to make sense of the sudden rush of emotions. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, was it? He had always imagined that meeting his soulmate—if it ever happened—would be a grand, cinematic moment. But this? This was something else entirely. It was messy and confusing and utterly real.

You didn’t say anything, neither did he. Words felt unnecessary, even impossible in that moment. But as you stood there, staring at each other, the crowd and noise of the paddock faded into the background. There was only you and him, and the undeniable connection that sparked between you.

Sebastian was the first to speak, his voice a low, uncertain murmur. “I’m sorry… are you okay?”

You nodded, still trying to process what was happening. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… surprised, I guess.”

He chuckled, a soft, almost nervous sound. “Surprised would be an understatement.”

There was a pause, a beat of silence that felt loaded with meaning. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, the same questions swirling in your own thoughts. Could it be? Was this really happening?

Finally, Sebastian took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t know if this is crazy, but… do you want to get out of here? Maybe grab a coffee or something? I think we need to talk.”

You felt a smile tug at the corners of your lips. “I think you’re right.”

Part four: Discovering the Truth

The café was tucked away in a quiet corner of Monaco, far from the noise and chaos of the race weekend. It was the perfect place to talk, to try and make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that had taken you both by surprise.

You sat across from each other, two strangers bound by a connection you couldn’t explain. The initial awkwardness gave way to a tentative conversation, each of you sharing your stories, your fears, your doubts. It was surreal, how easy it was to open up to him, how natural it felt to be with him.

Sebastian listened intently as you told him about your life, your struggle to come to terms with the idea that you might never find your soulmate. It was a struggle he knew all too well, and as he shared his own experiences, you realized just how similar your journeys had been.

“So,” you said, stirring your coffee absently, “do you think this is it? That we’re… soulmates?”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. “I don’t know. Everything I’ve been told about soulmates makes this seem… different. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe we’re not meant to fit into the same mold as everyone else.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant. This connection, whatever it was, didn’t feel like the stories you had heard growing up. It was more complex, more real. It wasn’t about instant love or perfection. It was about finding someone who understood you, who shared your fears and your hopes.

As the conversation continued, you felt the walls you had built around yourself start to crumble. With Sebastian, there was no need to pretend, no need to hide your loneliness or your doubts. He saw you, truly saw you, in a way that no one else ever had.

And slowly, the fear that had been with you for so long began to fade, replaced by something new. It wasn’t the all-consuming, fairy-tale love that you had been led to expect. It was something quieter, something deeper—a connection built on shared experiences, on understanding and empathy.

By the time you left the café, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the streets of Monaco. As you walked side by side, you felt a sense of peace that had eluded you for years. You didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time, you were okay with that.

Sebastian glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “So… where do we go from here?”

You returned his smile, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. “Wherever we want, I guess. Together?”

He nodded, a look of quiet determination in his eyes. “Together.”

And with that, the two of you walked into the night, leaving behind the fears and doubts that had haunted you for so long. You didn’t have all the answers, but you had each other, and for now, that was enough.

**Bonus Chapter: Future Dreams**

A few years had passed since that magical time in Switzerland, and your life with Sebastian had become everything you’d ever hoped for. The two of you had settled into a rhythm that was both exciting and comforting, filled with laughter, love, and a sense of contentment that you’d never known before.

But recently, you had felt something shift inside you, a new longing that had taken root in your heart. It started out small, just a fleeting thought here and there, but it had grown stronger with each passing day.

The catalyst had been a simple moment—watching Sebastian interact with children at a charity event. He had always been good with kids, but that day, as you stood on the sidelines and watched him crouch down to talk to a little boy who couldn’t have been older than five, something inside you clicked. The way he smiled at the child, the gentle tone of his voice, the easy laughter they shared—it made your heart swell with love for him in a way that was almost overwhelming.

You could picture it so clearly: Sebastian as a father, his strong, gentle hands cradling a tiny baby, his eyes filled with the same warmth and love that he always showed you. The image was so vivid, so real, that it took your breath away.

From that moment on, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The idea of having children with Sebastian, of starting a family together, consumed your thoughts. You imagined what it would be like to hold your own child in your arms, to see Sebastian’s smile reflected in their eyes, to build a future that included more than just the two of you.

Sebastian, ever intuitive, noticed the change in you almost immediately. He saw the way your gaze lingered on families when you were out together, the way your hand would rest on your stomach as if imagining what it would be like to carry a child. He didn’t say anything at first, wanting to give you space to sort through your feelings, but he was more attuned to you than ever.

One evening, after a particularly heartwarming day spent with friends and their children, Sebastian gently broached the subject as the two of you were getting ready for bed. You were brushing your hair in front of the mirror when you caught his reflection behind you, his eyes soft as he watched you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “Can we talk about something?”

You set down the brush, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve noticed you’ve been different lately… thinking about something. I think I know what it is, but I want to hear it from you.”

You turned in his arms to face him, your heart pounding. “I’ve been thinking about us, about our future,” you admitted, your voice soft but steady. “About… starting a family.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up with understanding, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing over your cheeks. “You’ve been thinking about having kids,” he said, not as a question, but as a statement of fact.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I have. I can’t stop thinking about it, actually. Seeing you with children, the way you are with them… it makes me want that for us. I want to give you that, Seb. I want to have a family with you.”

His expression softened even more, a look of pure love and adoration filling his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it too,” he confessed, his voice tender. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to bring it up, but I wanted to make sure you were ready.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you reached up to hold his hands, squeezing them gently. “I’m ready, Sebastian. More than anything, I want to build a life with you that includes children, a family.”

He leaned in and kissed you, slow and deep, as if sealing the promise you had just made to each other. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled, that soft, heart-melting smile that had made you fall in love with him all over again.

“Then let’s do it,” he whispered. “Let’s make a family together.”

That night, after your heartfelt conversation, you found yourselves wrapped up in each other, a sense of unity stronger than ever before. As you lay together in the quiet of your bedroom, Sebastian's fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, his touch both soothing and electrifying.

But there was something more in the air tonight—a different kind of intensity. The love between you had always been passionate, but this felt deeper, more purposeful, as if the shared dream of creating a family had added a new layer to your bond.

You turned to face him, your heart full as you looked into his eyes. "Sebastian," you whispered, your voice a little shaky from the emotions swirling inside you, "I want to start now. I don’t want to wait any longer."

His eyes darkened with understanding, and without a word, he pulled you closer, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and full of promise. The kiss quickly deepened, fueled by the desire that had been simmering between you all evening.

Sebastian rolled over, pinning you beneath him with a gentle but firm hold, his gaze locking onto yours. “Are you sure?” he murmured, his voice husky and filled with a raw emotion that sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, your hands moving to slide under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. “More sure than I’ve ever been,” you replied, your voice breathless with anticipation.

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you again, this time with a hunger that matched your own, his hands moving to explore your body with an urgency that made your pulse quicken. The world outside your little cocoon seemed to disappear as you lost yourselves in each other, every touch, every caress charged with the knowledge that you were creating something new, something beautiful together.

Clothes were shed quickly, almost frantically, as the desire between you became a tidal wave that you couldn’t hold back. Sebastian’s hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The way he looked at you, with such reverence and need, made your heart swell with love for him.

When he finally settled above you, his body pressed against yours, the intensity of the moment hit you both. There was a brief pause, a shared breath as you both realized what this meant—this wasn’t just another night together, it was the beginning of a new chapter, the start of a journey you were both eager to embark on.

With a whispered “I love you,” Sebastian moved, and the two of you became one, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. The passion between you was overwhelming, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of love sending you spiraling higher. It was as if you could feel the future being written in that moment, your hearts beating in time as you both gave yourselves fully to each other.

As the intensity built, your hands gripped onto Sebastian’s shoulders, your body arching into his as you both reached the edge. And when you finally tipped over into bliss, it was like nothing you had ever felt before—deeper, more profound, a connection that went beyond the physical and into something almost spiritual.

You cried out his name, your voice filled with love and wonder, and Sebastian followed soon after, his own voice breaking as he whispered your name in return. The two of you held each other tightly as you rode out the waves of pleasure, your bodies trembling with the force of it, your hearts full to bursting.

When the world slowly came back into focus, you found yourselves still wrapped up in each other, your breathing heavy, your skin damp with sweat. But there was a sense of peace that settled over you, a deep, abiding contentment that came from knowing you were on this journey together.

Sebastian brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes soft and full of love as he looked at you. “You’re going to be an amazing mother,” he whispered, his voice filled with certainty.

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, and you smiled, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. “And you’re going to be the best father,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion.

He kissed you softly, and then pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you both basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, and it soothed you, lulling you into a state of blissful contentment.

——————–———————

Note: hope you like it leve the comments don't be shy tell me bout your day or how is your summer going so far..❤️ ; [AND LOOK AT HIM OH MY GOD HE IS SO HDDHJDDBFHDBGVD❤️❤️]

[harrysfolklore]

birthdays with harry

this was inspired by @sirtommyholland’s four years of birthdays blurb ! one of my fave blurbs ever <3 i hope you like this

happy birthday harry, i love you

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

2011 - 17th birthday

"Happy birthday, dear Harry, happy birthday to you!"

Harry smiled as everyone around him sang, the room full of the people he loved: his mom, stepdad, sister, bandmates that he loved like his brothers, friends from school and the girl who he was head over heels for.

His best friend and now his girlfriend.

"Make a wish, bro!" Niall cheered and ruffled Harry's curls for a second.

"All of my wishes are coming true right now." Harry said and the entire room awed, making him blush before blowing his candles.

After the cake was cut and everyone spread around Harry's childhood home, he looked for his girlfriend, finding her in the kitchen helping his mum put away some dishes.

"YN, would you go out with me for a minute?" Harry asked, still shy to call her pet names in front of his mum even tho Anne was ecstatic over the fact that Harry was dating the girl she adored like a daughter.

"Sure, let me just finish up these dishes."

"Oh don´t worry about it sweetie, I can handle them myself." Anne told her with a small smile and motioned then to go.

Once they were outside and away from the chatter and laughter, Harry stood in front of her and grabbed her hands.

"You know, I'm so happy you agreed to be my girlfriend." Harry shyly told her, still new to the feeling.

"And I'm so happy you asked me to be your girlfriend." YN said with the same shy smile on her face.

"No matter how big the band becomes, you'll always be my number one girl, I'll never forget about you." Harry told her sincerely, knowing it was one of YN's biggest insecurities.

Harry was just turning 17, but he made a promise that would last forever.

2015 - 21st birthday

"This party is insane!" Niall said as they entered the club where Harry's birthday party was taking place, the room full of celebrities and close friends.

"Damn, Jeff really went all out with this," Harry held his girlfriend's hand, keeping her close, "Do you want me to get you a drink?"

"I'm not drinking tonight."

"Why? It's my birthday, baby." Harry grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles softly.

"Exactly, and I want you to enjoy it. So no drinking for me so you can go all out." YN kissed his cheek softly, his long hair getting in the way and tickling her face a bit.

"I don't even want to drink that much tonight darling, don't want to have a killer handover tomorrow."

However, that statement was thrown out the window as Harry chugged down his 7th tequila shot of the night.

"Baby! Come up here!" Harry yelled, standing on top of the bar with Jeff's arm around his shoulder.

"Harry, get down, how did you even climb up there?"

"Tequila gives me special powers!" He started jumping up and down and that was her cue to get him down the bar with Glenne's help.

"My love! I've missed you." Harry obnoxiously wrapped his arms around her in a hug, placing sloppy kisses on her neck.

"Harry, you're hammered!" YN grabbed his face to look at him, his eyes giving away his drunken state.

"I know!" he let out a loud laugh, "I have an idea!"

And before YN could stop him, the music was going down and he had a microphone on his hand.

"Hello! Hello! Can everybody hear me?" Harry said into the mic, making everyone turn to look at him, "Sorry to interrupt your partying, I just wanted to thank my amazing friend Jeff for throwing this party for me."

At the mention of his name, Jeff let out a whistle and cheer, making Harry laugh as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

"And I would also love to thank my incredible, stunning, gorgeous girlfriend YN for... just being hot and charming," he drunkenly spoke into the mic again, making YN blush and hide her face in her hands, "You know, I'm going to propose that girl one day! I will!

The entire room erupted in cheers and claps, and years later, the drunken promise he made on his 21st birthday became true.

2019 - 25th birthday

"Happy birthday, baby." Her soft voice made its way to Harry's ears, waking him up from his slumber and instantly smiling at the feeling of her lips pressing kisses to his jaw.

"Thank you, my love." He mumbled sleepily, tightening his arms around her and dropping his head to lean his forehead against hers.

After YN gave Harry his "traditional birthday shag", they headed downstairs to cook some breakfast before starting Harry's big day.

"How do you feel about being 25?" YN said as she took out the ingredients to cook him some pancakes, "Any expectations for today?"

"I just know it'll be my best birthday yet," he smiled softly as he watched her move around the kitchen, "You know, my first birthday as an engaged man, soon to be husband."

YN couldn't help but smile at the sound of that, still not quite used to the fact that they would be husband and wife soon.

"Who would've thought my high school boyfriend would become my husband." YN turned around to face him, meting his soft green eyes instantly.

"I always knew it," he shrugged before continuing, "I knew you were the one for me from the moment I laid my eyes on you."

Getting closer to him, YN grabbed his face and placed a kiss on his lips.

"I love you so much, baby. Thank you for letting me spend another birthday with you." she kissed him again her smile mirroring Harry's when they pulled away.

"This is just the beginning of the rest of our lives, darling."

And as Harry stood in his kitchen with his fianceé wrapped around his arms, he knew his 25 was going to be one to remeber.

2023 - 29th birthday

Harry found himself in the same position he was during his 17th birthday, in a room full of people he loved while the sang happy birthday to him.

But he wasn't on his childhood home anymore, he was backstage in Acrisure Arena surrounded by his tour crew, bandmates, managers, family members and his beloved wife.

"Blow the candles and make a wish!" Sarah said after they were done singing to him, and the words naturally came out of Harry's mouth.

"All of my wishes are coming true right now."

"Awe! You're all grown up now mate." Jeff hugged Harry tightly, making everyone in the room look at them fondly.

"Okay Azoff, that's enough, I need to give him his present now." YN said as he grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him out of the room.

"Make sure to be quiet! The walls are thin around here." Lambert joked making the group laugh, and YN only rolled her eyes and flashed her middle finger to him before they were out of the room.

"Sooo, you're going to give me my present now?" Harry teased as they walked down the corridor to his dressing room.

"Not that kind of present, you menace," YN turned to look at him quickly as she opened the door to his dressing room, "That one is the reserved for when we're alone in our hotel room."

"Don't tease me, baby. I have a show in two hours." Harry said with a serious tone, making YN laugh as she approached the tote bag where she was keeping his gift, taking the box out and placing it on his hands.

"Okay, open it." YN took a step back and clasped her hands together, her nerves kicking in.

"Told you you didn't need to get me anything," he said as he opened the box, not looking inside of it yet, "I would've been more than satisfied with a 29 minute long blowj-"

"Just look at it!" YN cut him off before he could finish his sentence, making him laugh and turn his gaze to the box in his hands.

And when he realized what was inside, he froze at his spot and his eyes got instantly tearful.

"YN wha-" he stopped himself as his voice began shaking, "Is this...? I mean are you...?"

"I'm pregnant, Harry." She simply said, smile wide on her face and tearful eyes that matched his.

"Fuck," Harry finally took the pregnancy test out of the box and gave it a proper look, noticing the unmistakable two lines that indicating that his wife was expecting his child, "Fuck YN, you're pregnant, we're going to be parents."

"We are, baby." YN couldn't keep her cool anymore as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and making him wrap his around her waist, both of them letting out happy tears.

And in that moment, Harry knew that becoming a dad was the best way to end his twenties.

taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches @golden-hoax @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles s @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @noitsmebecky @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi i @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @eviesaurusrex @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @harrybabyyyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things @juiceboxrry @lomlolivia @itsgigikay @goldensstateofgrace @missmielyhoran @fdl305 @lightsoutstyles