#thank you Cloud for the morning inspo

[thefixations-ofmine]

Right after Buck slips out of Tommy, he rushes to the bathroom to make sure Tommy doesn't have any boxes of Just for Men laying around and throws away the one root touch-up box he has.

"You know I haven't used that in months?" Tommy whispers from the doorway, voice still gravely from the moaning and grunting.

When he sees the blush of shame start creeping on Buck's neck he adds; "Saw the way you ran your fingers through my hair. Examining. Enjoying."

He takes a step towards Buck. And another, until he can extend his hand onto his hip.

"I, um. Yeah, I guess I do love it." Buck admits.

"So after our second date I decided to let my greys come out because you made me feel confident about it."

"I, I'm glad I could help. I'll be happy to keep admiring if it means you'll let yourself go whiter." Tommy chuckles at that.

"Slow down, kid. Let me hit 50 first." He leans in for a kiss, their lips still tasting of saliva, sweat and cum. The shared moan echoing through the small space gets their bodies going again.

"It's okay, anyway. I can call you daddy no matter your age," Buck says with a smirk and starts walking backwards to the shower. He reaches back to get it going and turns around to Tommy's eyes dancing over his body.

"I think daddy needs to take care of his good boy now," Tommy adds, hand around his already hard cock and preys Buck into the cold-tiled corner.

Buck going feral when he finds some grey pubes while nuzzling into Tommy's groin

[sp00kymulderr]

Boop me once...

Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings/Tags/Notes: 18+. blue balls, grumpy Joel, horny Joel, Joel hates tumblr confirmed, pussy slapping, they're in love btw, reader could never be any of us ignoring Joel like this but lets pretend for fun. um idk guys. Thank boopoween for the inspo i guess. Unedited, unbeta'd all mistakes my own and there's probably a lot.

Words: 1.3k

It had started with a boop.

Well, a message from your friend telling you boops were back.

You and Joel were lying in bed, putting off the start of the day for another few minutes before you'd have to get up and going. He was always clingy in the mornings, and this morning was no different as he snuggled up behind you whilst you scrolled your phone.

"Mm…feels nice" you murmur when his lips lightly press against your shoulder, and then you squirm and push back against him when he does it again where your shoulder meets your neck.

"You feel nice" Joel whispers in your ear, hand travelling south and grabbing a handful of your ass.

You giggle softly, only to be cut short in what you were about to say in response when a notification pops up on your phone, a message on your favourite social media site.

'Turn your boop counter on!!'

Joels hand is still massaging the flesh of your ass while you're immediately opening up your app, an giddy gasp leaving you when you see the return of the iconic boops

"Getting excited, baby?" He laughs gruffly at your gasp, but your response certainly isn't what he's expecting.

"Tumblr turned boops back on!"

"…"

Joel looks at you like you're speaking a different language. Which you are, to him

"…What the hell is a tumblr?"

You just roll your eyes and shake your head before turning back attention to your phone with a giddy glint in your eye, "Don't worry about it, old man" you tease and he grumbles something under his breath as his lips make contact with your neck again.

You aren't paying so much attention now though, and Joel nips at your skin to bring you back to him.

You giggle but still you're on your phone, he peers down at the screen and sees kitty paws popping up, and he feels even more perplexed.

"Not got long, honey. Put the phone down, yeah?" He says, making it sound more like a command than a request.

"Hm?" You respond, half-listening "Give me one minute…just…"

Joel sighs. Looks at the clock, and watches the minute tick by. His fingers rub absentminded on your skin and if you turned your head, you'd see his lips forming the beginnings of a pout, an expression usually left to you when he teases you.

By the time you put your phone down, there's no real time at all. You turn to kiss him and Joel reciprocates but barely.

"Gotta get up, got a job on site today" he says as he pulls away.

And that's that. Morning ruined.

A dark cloud hangs over Joel most of the day. He curses this tumblr thing, and boops or whatever the fuck you were on about. He grumbles to Tommy the whole morning, and harrumphs around in the afternoon working in the garage.

He's still fucking horny, but he's too stubborn to just jerk off and call it a day. Oh no, he's gotta get his own back on you now.

"Hey handsome!" You call when you return home for the day, peeking your head into the garage and, okay, Joel lights up maybe just a little bit. Just a tiny bit.

"Hey darlin" He says, giving you a smile that has a glint of annoyance to it. You don't notice, phone still in hand, a string of notifications popping up on your screen as you speak to him.

"How was your day?" He asks, setting his tools down and coming around the garage to you.

"Oh, good. Didn't get much done, just booping"

"Just boopin'. Right…"

You don't see the angry tick of his jaw as you lean up to him and give him a cheeky little smile before going in for a kiss. He can't resist, of course not. He never could when its you.

But when you pull away, a happy sigh leaving your lips, you raise your finger and poke his nose with a "Boop!"

Joel loses it then; the press of your finger to his nose, the 'boop!' in that stupid, lilting tone. He's had enough. He's already frustrated from being left with blue balls this morning, so now he's annoyed and horny.

"I swear to god!" He grumbles, pointing an accusing finger at you

"W-what?" You asks, face a picture of surprise at his sudden outburst.

"This fuckin' boop thing! It's ridiculous, i've goddam had it"

"It's just…it's just a tumblr thing"

"I don't know what that means, and I don't wanna"

You can't deny his angry tone and the wild look in his eyes is making your cunt throb. You keep up your perplexed, innocent look as he goes on about it; about how he didn't get quality time with his girl this morning, how he'd been left aching all day and did you even care?!

"Joel, I'm s-" you start, holding your hand on his chest, a show of apology because you really hadn't meant to make him feel that way. He looks down at you, eyes dark and stormy and finds the fire in your own.

"You like boopin' so damn much, huh?" He practically growls out. Your clit jumps in excitement at the rumbling tone.

You nod dumbly.

"Well I'm gonna boop you til you fuckin' cry"

You figure he's not talking about a poke to your nose when he grabs you and hauls you down to the couch, you squeal excitedly, phone dropped to the floor as you eagerly help him pull of your clothes in a fit of rage…passion…determination…you can't quite pinpoint it but you're certainly not complaining about it.

"What happens on that little app of yours when you boop?" Joel asks, looking down between your legs while he kneels between your ankles, big hands holding them tight.

"It's…it's like…" You breath is a little ragged. He can easily tell you're already wet through your underwear "It's a paw that sort of…smacks?" you try to explain.

"Yeah?" Joel nods, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips. His hand reaches out like a flash, and a slap lands on your clothed pussy making you yelp.

"Joel!" you whine, the yell of surprise quickly turning to a moan, clit twitching and pussy clenching around nothing.

"Something like that, you think?" He asks, before he does it again.

Your mouth hangs open slack, eyes flutter closed as you let the sensation envelop you.

"Yeah, uhm, yeah, i think so…maybe, uhm, do it again to make sure?" you whisper, biting down on your bottom lip to suppress the desperate whine clawing up your throat.

He chuckles darkly, pulse quickening as he takes in your expression while he takes his sweet time pulling your underwear down, kissing your ankles before he tugs it all the way off and throws it to the floor. Your cunt is glistening, beautiful, mesmerising enough that he almost forgets he was ever annoyed to begin with.

Then your forgotten phone pings, muffled by the lacy fabric fallen on top of it, and Joel gives you a wicked smile.

A quick succession of slaps to your bare pussy have you crying out, and then squirming as he sooths the sting with gentle touches to your folds, parting them and massaging lightly with his thumbs.

"You still like boopin'?" He asks softly now, a thumb circling your clit and making you arch in delicious pleasure again.

"Mmm" is about all you manage. He's leaning over you now, crowding you and pressing you into the soft cushion of the couch. His jeans-covered bulge rubs against your aching pussy and you just nod, and nod and nod.

"Tell me, baby"

"Yeah. Yeah. Like it" You smile soft up at him, eyes wide and reverent, fingers gripping at his strong back, around to his soft stomach, down to the button of his jeans, "Like your version better, f-fuck tumblr, fuck those kitty paws"

He gives a wolfish grin, anticipation glittering in his dark eyes.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet"

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Daybreak Ballads

NSFW || Astarion x fem!bard!Tav/reader || ao3 || masterlist

Rating: E, +18 Word Count: +3.5k Warnings: Smut. Orgasm delay. Soft dom!Astarion. Oral+fingering (fem!receiving). PiV sex. Praise kink?

And yet, Astarion did have an undeniably keen eye for beauty and dramatics alike. If he only put a little more of himself into his work, you were convinced people would adore his poetry. He only had to find his intended audience because one thing was clear: as much as you loved Astarion, his poetry simply wasn’t for you. At all.

a/n: This has been in the works for ages and when I wasn't pulling out my own hair over this, it was quite fun to write, I suppose. Special thanks to @tragedybunny , @bardic-inspo and @littlejuicebox for emotional support. The masterful poem at the end has been handmade for Gina. With love. By the pale elf himself.

You’d never said you disliked Astarion’s poetry, let alone that it was bad. When the pale elf had asked for your expert opinion on his poetic endeavours, you’d just assumed it was honesty he’d wanted. So honesty was what you’d given him. 

The form of his poem looked messy, unappealing even; its rhythm was off, contorted by wordy lines that lacked any pleasant flow. Astarion’s motifs were obvious at best and trite at worst, and his rhymes were, well, creative, you supposed. But most of all, Astarion’s pieces left wanting for personality. Where was his wit? His snark? His passion? Where was all the fun?

Try as you might, you just couldn’t see yourself performing Astarion’s ballad—at least that’s what you assumed he’d attempted to write—for your regular audience, not with your flute nor your lyre. It just felt wrong to translate his words into song, forced. You didn’t even need to take a closer look to recognize his work as haphazard, dull, and, worst of all, inauthentic.

And yet, Astarion did have an undeniably keen eye for beauty and dramatics alike. If he only put a little more of himself into his work, you were convinced people would adore his poetry. He only had to find his intended audience because one thing was clear: as much as you loved Astarion, his poetry simply wasn’t for you. At all. That, too, you’d told him. 

To your surprise, Astarion had taken your admittedly harsh review of his work with uncharacteristic grace—suspiciously so, in hindsight, at least. After all, the vampire could be quite…sensitive. That night, though, he’d just nodded along to your blunt words, an almost arrogant smirk tugging at his lips, promising you to compose a piece to your liking one day.

Just for you, Astarion had said with a wink as he’d retrieved his poetry from your hands, the dying campfire reflecting in the ink of his elegant handwriting. Crimson eyes sparkling with mischief as they’d wandered over your body. His tongue had slowly wet his sensuous lips as if in anticipation of...what? 

Just wait and see, darling…

If your brain hadn’t been all clouded by lust earlier tonight, you would’ve noticed that Astarion had been up to something. He’d been throwing you suggestive looks all evening, purring sweet nothings in your ear whenever he’d gotten you alone. Surprised you in your tent when your companions had been sound asleep, the campfire burned low. His hand had practically been glued to the small of your back as he’d guided you to a most charming little clearing, not unlike the one in which you’d first slept with him all those weeks ago. 

That Astarion had kept calling this idyllic, moonlit spot his perfect motif had somehow eluded you as you’d been too preoccupied with the telltale heat gathering between your legs. In fact, you’d followed the vampire like an eager little pup, already wound tight around his little finger. The promise of Astarion’s inviting touches and lingering kisses had lured you right into his honey trap—and how bittersweet it was.

Now, shivering from painfully drawn-out desire and cold morning dew settling on your skin, you could feel that cursed smirk brush against your dripping wet core again—a silent warning. 

Oh, fuck. 

Astarion’s lips closed around your almost painfully swollen clit, sucking at it leisurely as his lower arm pinned your hips against the cold earth as if you were but a sheet of paper threatening to take flight with the next gust of wind. Another gasp echoed from the trees as your left hand clawed at the damp grass underneath you, looking for support but finding little. Your other hand grasped at silver curls with as much success. 

Astarion was rather enjoying himself as your body squirmed under his sinful mouth, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your thigh as he adjusted your trembling leg over his shoulder, opening you up even more for his thorough ministrations. You tossed your head back at the gentle but intoxicating shift of position. His name was stuck in the back of your throat, suffocated by shaky moans as the tip of his tongue brought you ever closer to the edge of release. 

Feeling the coil in your lower belly tighten, your toes curled against the raised scar tissue on Astarion’s back, eliciting but an amused sigh from him before his lips released your wanting nub with one last lingering caress of his tongue. 

You wanted to cry; this was the second time he’d left you hanging somewhere between bliss and frustration.

Shaking from pent-up pleasure, your elbow threatened to slip on the wet grass as you sat up as much as the weight of Astarion’s arm allowed. Through the evaporating clouds of your laboured breath you only just caught a glimpse of Astarion’s crimson eyes gazing up at you from between your thighs; he was all messy curls and unfairly thick eyelashes. Smug smirks turned wicked. 

You swallowed.

“Astarion…” you breathed, not knowing if it was a warning or plea, but before the syllables had faded into the fleeting night, his attention had returned to your cunt once more. The tip of Astarion’s nose grazed your clit. You could feel his cold breath against your burning folds, feeling no different than the gentle breeze of dawn tickling your exposed skin. There was no gentle sensation snaking up your spine when Astarion licked down your slit ever so slowly, and for the first time that night, you truly registered how far you really were from camp. You let out a blissful cry, knowing there was not a soul to hear you but the elf feasting on your cunt. 

The weight from Astarion’s arm shifted from your hips down your side. His hand wandered along your curves, groping the swell of your ass before it wound itself back up your inner thigh. He pushed your legs further apart, opening you up impossibly wide. You let out an excited squeal you would be embarrassed for by morning, but not now, no. For the better part of the night, you’d been a whining, trembling mess under your lover—always painfully close to release and yet no part of Astarion had filled you as of yet. But maybe he’d had enough now. Maybe he would finally deign to push you over the edge, with his fingers or his cock, you didn’t really care anymore as long as he finally let you come undone.

And, indeed, Astarion’s fingers inched closer to your core, though all they did was trace the course of your pulsing femoral artery he could no doubt sense underneath your heated skin. You relaxed a little under his sweet little caresses and wondered dully if he would soon exchange the fruits of your cunt for proper nourishment.

He didn’t. At least not yet.

Without warning, the tip of Astarion’s tongue teased your entrance, driving you wild. Your hips instantly bucked against Astarion’s face as your hand clenched around a fistful of his soft hair. Finally! This was divine, this was— 

Astarion withdrew from you in an instant, ignoring the undignified whine of protest escaping your lips—fuck, you’d been so close! By the self-satisfied look on his face, though, he was well aware of that. For a moment, he studied the heavy rise and fall of your flushed chest, his chin resting right below your navel as you lay beneath him, dumbstruck. His pointer finger still ghosted up and down the inside of your leg, the lazy movement a stark contrast to the blood racing through your veins. 

“Oh, darling, look what you’ve done…” Astarion pouted, his sensuous lips moist with your arousal. “You’ve ruined my rhythm.”

His fingers slowly wandered down, down, down your leg and curled around your ankle before he gently let it glide off his shoulder. With an outrageous nonchalance, he sat back on his knees and considered you. Crimson eyes darted over your feverish skin that glistened with sweat and morning dew. They trailed from your parted lips down your collarbone, through the valley of your breast, until they beheld the mess between your legs with blatant amusement. How you wanted to wipe the stupid smirk off his face; how you wanted him to finally take you.

Behind Astarion’s broad shoulders, you could see the sunrise in the distance; a gentle purple bled into the indigo of night right above the treeline. Day would break soon, but you didn’t have it in you to appreciate twilight when, suddenly, Astarion’s arms came down on each side of your head, eclipsing the waking world around you.

His hips settled against your core as he crawled atop you, habitually making you arch your back against his own growing desire pressing into your belly.

“But don’t you worry,” Astarion purred, clearly delighted as he lowered himself onto you until the silken tip of his nose brushed against yours. “Your body is a well of inspiration to me, my little muse…”

Astarion closed the small distance between you with a heady kiss; your mind went blank as you tasted yourself on his lips, the warmed tongue demanding access to you once more. You opened your mouth to him readily, moaned into the kiss as Astarion’s hands wandered up and down the curves of your body. Your head spun. Nobody—nothing—else could ever make you feel like this, and you cursed yourself when you had to break away from him to fill your inconvenient lungs with air. 

Spit and slick weaved like cobwebs between your parted lips as you beheld Astarion with dazed eyes, breathing hard.

He was perfect. 

From the fading light of the moon reflecting in his serene locks to his kiss-swollen lips that were a sharp instrument of the sweetest temptation. That smirk that promised unforgettable ecstasy, granting it only whenever he wanted. There was no song nor poem you could compose that could ever do Astarion justice, no instrument to capture the intricacies of his soul. He was a masterpiece.

Drunk on his lips, you leaned forward as his fingers continued to run down your middle, along the curve of your ass before taking hold of your thigh again. Your tired legs twitched to wind around Astarion’s hips, wanting to pull him closer to where you needed him most. 

But before you could even move an inch, you found yourself lying flat on your stomach.

Astarion’s arm wound around your waist from behind, roughly pulling your ass up against his lean middle before you could so much as gasp in surprise. Wet grass tickled your cheek as you tried to find your balance, take a puzzled look back at him, but you could only feel him bend over you again, his erection poking your lower back. 

Astarion’s kiss-warmed lips ghosted over your ear, “Now that you’re in proper form, let’s write some poetry, shall we?”

What?

He tossed your messy braid over your shoulder, pressed a wet kiss to the exposed nape of your neck as your knees struggled for support on slippery morning dew. 

“You’ll sing some more for me, won’t you, little songstress?” Astarion breathed against your spine. “I’m sure you’ll make a real show of my newest piece.” 

It took you a moment to process his words. Maybe it was the pebble cutting into the palm of your hand or the day’s first birdsong reaching your ear that lifted the fog in your head, but it finally hit you.

Astarion hadn’t brought you here for a tryst in the dirt, no. You were here because he was writing poetry. Except, this time, you weren’t his critic, but his choice medium. Which could only mean one thing: He rather had taken your criticism of his artistic endeavours to heart, and now you would have to pay the price for your honesty.

“Astarion…” you breathed, quick words of appeasement lost in a moan as he started to grind against you. Suddenly, daybreak felt like an eternity away. 

“Yes, darling?” He asked, the perverse amusement evident in his voice. “How do you like my work so far? Is it to your refined taste this time?” 

Curse the damn elf. You knew what he wanted, what he’d craved all along. What he’d expected from you the moment he’d shared his work with you. And as if you weren’t in a most precarious position already, he really wanted you to say it—praise him and his stupid poetry when he knew how badly your body was aching for him.

Clenching your teeth, you slowly rolled your hips up against his now rock-hard cock. Maybe, if you just got him to fuck you already, you would get away with your pride intact. All of this was embarrassing enough as it was.

Your efforts were repaid with little more than a chuckle, though—and two fingers that started teasing your entrance, carefully dipping into you without even slightly dampening your need.

“Fuck!” You whined into the grass as your hips chased Astarion’s digits, wishing they were his cock instead, filling you as you’d so lusted after all night long.

“What was that?”

Astarion’s movement stopped at once, leaving you empty once again.

“It’s good,” you hissed against the wet ground as tears of frustration threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes. “Your poetry—Astarion, it’s so good, I swear.” 

So much for pride.

“Oh, you think so, little nightingale?” 

You nodded frantically as he bent over you again, nibbling at the shell of your sensitive pointy ear. Astarion chuckled.

“Don’t get me wrong, this means so much coming from an expert artist such as yourself, darling, but I can’t help but wonder whether this is a professional opinion or empty flattery for the sake of indulgence…”  

You could feel his fingers ghost over your clit, knowing he would never touch you without a satisfying answer.

“It’s true—nobody does it quite like you,” you cried, not bothering to specify whether you meant his poetry or his more distinctive talents, and it didn’t really matter. 

Throughout your career, you’d gone looking for inspiration in quite a few beds but never had you written better poetry than in your rather short time together with the pale elf. Astarion was unlike any lover you’d ever taken, nor had you ever cared this deeply for another person whatsoever. 

“Nothing compares to you, Astarion,” you whispered, truthfully. 

“Ah,” Astarion’s fingers slid back into you the moment the words had left your mouth, curling deliciously against your walls—a reward for your generous recognition of his talents, no question. “But I’m sure there’s room for improvement still?”  

Hips moving up against his digits, chasing the sweet friction of his cold skin, you groaned. Fine. If he wanted a damn lesson in poetry, he could have one.

“There always is. What’s the point of art when there’s no growth—ah!”

There was a lewd sound as Astarion pulled his fingers from your core once again, though this time you could feel his body shift behind you. The two fingers that had worked you open so well now gently parted your folds. You let out a low moan as you could finally feel the wet tip of Astarion’s cock teasing your throbbing clit, though it was his lips brushing the back of your neck that really made you shiver.   

“So what would you have me do, little nightingale? Would you have me put more of myself into my work, again?”  

“Yes, gods, please,” you mewled, dragging the syllables out just like you knew he enjoyed. “Put as much of yourself in as you can.”

Astarion tried and failed to cover his quickening breath up with a sharp laugh, finally giving away the strain on his own composure. “Well, you are the expert, aren’t you?”  

The iron grip on your hip was the only thing keeping you from toppling over as Astarion buried himself inside you with one forceful thrust. The entirety of his impressive length stretched you painfully wide, and he only granted you one moment to adjust to the feeling of complete, blissful fullness before he pulled out of you again. Grunting, he repeated the movement, faster each time. His deep groans soon turned into a perfect rhyme to your breathless moans as he fucked you franticly. 

“Like my poetry now, darling?” He hissed, slamming into you over and over again as your hand found Astarion’s in the dewy grass.  

Your fingers wound around his wrist, up his lower arm, grasping for support. Couldn’t he see, feel, hear how much you adored his poetry?

“You’re an artist,” you panted through open-mouthed gasps, your entire body singing him the song of your desire, though you really doubted that he paid it much mind.

Astarion had buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent greedily. His tongue traced the curve of your collarbone; you could feel his fangs scrape against your tender skin every now and then. He was a fast learner, you noted, dully—Astarion was already losing himself in his passionate work. 

“Have I found my intended audience yet?” He muttered, more to himself than to you, as his knee hooked under your leg, pushing it up until you lay almost flat on the ground.

“What do you want me to do, darling? Write down how divine your cunt is? Have everybody know what sinful music you make when I fuck you?” Astarion let out a choked laugh. “Fuck that! I don’t need an audience, because they only need to take one look at you and recognize you as a work of mine.” 

He wasn’t wrong. You would be deliciously sore when you returned to camp with the scent of your lover lingering on your skin like ink on thick paper. He was already written all over you; you were his creation. Who else could coax such magnificent sounds out of you but him? And who were you, really, to teach him about poetry when all you had to do was offer your body to him? You hadn’t lied when you said Astarion was an artist.  

Your fingernails left little half-moons on his pale arm as he fucked you half senseless. You could feel yourself dissolve deeper into pleasure with every relentless snap of his hips, knowing that this was when Astarion was most himself—buried deep inside you, chasing his own ideas and desires. Enjoying himself. Writing poetry.

You came fast and hard. Astarion gasped as your cunt clenched violently around him, his movement growing increasingly erratic. He breathed incoherent strings of pretty words into your ear, pulled your hips down on his cock with so much urgency it left you reeling far beyond your orgasm. He was close, too. His rhythm faltered as he slipped into a frenzy, cock twitching inside you as he lost himself in his poetry—in you. 

You brought your arm behind you to find Astaron’s sweat-drenched face, cupping his cheek. He groaned as he leaned into your touch. 

“You’re so talented, Astarion,” you said. “Fill me with all you have.” 

That was all it took. With one last grunt, Astarion spilled himself inside you. He continued rolling his hips into you for another moment, his pace slowing before he collapsed on top of you. 

You let the familiar weight of your lover ground you, enjoyed the way his hands wound under you to caress your stomach, your breasts. Astarion pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before gently withdrawing from you. His seed gushed out of you, leaving his signature on the insides of your legs. 

“You really think I have a thing for poetry?” Astarion asked, sheepishly, as he rolled to his side, pulling you with him to rest against his lean chest. “Or does my talent only reach as far as your pleasure?”

The sun had finally risen over the treeline, melting the morning dew from your skin. Drawing lazy circles across his chest, you considered Astarion’s question. 

“Talent means nothing without practice.” 

He hummed, clearly pleased with your answer. “Care to practise with me, then?” 

“Your poetry or my pleasure?” You asked, looking up to search his face.

Eyes closed to the sun above you, Astarion smiled. “It’s all the same with you, isn’t it, little songstress?”  

The pale elf pressed another kiss to your temple, pulled you even closer to him as you chuckled at his words.

“I would be quite honoured, Astarion.” 

The page had been ripped from your journal. It rested neatly folded in half next to your bedroll, elegant handwriting bleeding through the paper. Bards weren’t morning people—it just came with the job. Though, even as sore and sleepy as you felt, you would’ve never missed the note waiting for you to be found upon waking with the sun. You’d been expecting it, after all. With uncoordinated hands, you unfolded the piece of paper.

“Getting drunk on your

Sweet morning dew, nightingale.

Fucking you—such bliss.” 

—A. 

You scoffed at the poem in your hands, carefully folding it again before you reached for a small box filled with similar pieces of paper. You added the poem to the growing collection. There was no talent without practice, and Astarion and you had only just begun.

tag list:

@spacebarbarianweird @bardic-inspo @kawaiiusagichansan @darlingxdragon @herautumnmorningelegance @ayselluna @chonkercatto

[theprisonerandthebeast]

Do you write poly marauders? if so could you write one where they all live in a cute little apartment together, but the boys have gone away for week (or however long) and reader (preferably fem) kind of loses herself. like she starts eating less or at irregular times, kinda lets apartment get messy, wears same clothes everyday and is over all sad. the boys come home and find what's happening and comfort/help her. Mega fluff?!

hope this is enough inspo!

love your writing!!!

thank you :))

I LOVE THIS! I’ve been wanting to write poly!marauders forever and now I have an excuse. A kiss for you, anon.

(I might edit to add more details to the ending later!!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s just a week. We will be back soon, okay, Angel?” James coos to you, kissing you softly.

The boys are all heading out, bags in hand, saying their goodbyes.

“It’s actually 6 days, Jamie, not a week.” Sirius says, pointedly.

“Excuse me…” James says sarcastically to Sirius, then, turning to you, “6 days, then, Princess. Think you can make it without us that long?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” You say, giggling at James’ almost-overly-sensitive tone. He’s always babied you the most.

Remus says, exasperatedly, “I wouldn’t even be going to this Quidditch game if it wasn’t to make sure these idiots don’t fall off the stands, gorgeous girl, you know that, right?”

You giggle even harder at that, “Yes, I know. Now, go and have fun.”

You usher them out the door and into the hallway of your apartment. Luxurious, ceiling-high windows, a kitchen all of you could judge James’ latest experimental dish in, and a living room couch (made of clouds) facing the most expensive TV screen Sirius could afford.

What was originally Sirius’ apartment became Sirius and James’ apartment. Soon after, Remus moved in. Lastly, they asked you to move in once your relationship became more serious.

You walk around the suddenly too-quiet apartment. The cool floor feels more evident on your feet than before and a chill runs down your spine. You climb onto the couch, pull a blanket to your chin, and turn on a show for background noise. You fall asleep almost immediately.

The next morning, you wake up expecting the boys’ arms around you. Sirius snoring loudly, James spread out, pushing Remus off the bed- this was your normal morning routine. Waking up on the couch was never an option before. If you fell asleep on the couch, one of the boys, usually Sirius, would carry you to bed.

With nobody around to do that this morning (and no snoring to be heard from anywhere) you start to feel an empty, lonely feeling. Usually you or James or Remus would make breakfast but you didn’t feel like eating. You make yourself a cup of coffee and relax for the rest of the day. For dinner, you order a pizza and eat the whole thing. It was the only thing you had ate that day and told yourself tomorrow would be better.

That night, you fall asleep fitfully.

The days after are no better, in actuality, they were worse. One night you couldn’t sleep at all and at 3am you give up. You go to the living room, stare out the window at the city below and watch the cars light up the street. Even at 3am, cars are still going. You think too much about who’s in those cars and what they’re doing. Why are they driving at 3am? Some of them could be driving to the hospital right now. Some of them are just now getting off work. Some of them are teenagers who want to get away from their parents to smoke weed at the abandoned house on 7th Street.

You think about how out of all the people in the world, Remus, Sirius, and James chose you.

Suddenly, a thought hits you- there on the couch at damn near 4 in the morning. “They left me, they went on a trip to see someone else… They never chose me after all…”

You believe its true. You believe it so bad you go to sleep, crying, right there on the couch.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours (or was it days?) later you wake up to keys jingling outside the door. Panic hits you at first. You look around the living room and kitchen. Pizza boxes, McDonald's cheeseburger wrappers, and an old, door-dashed Starbucks drink, definitely growing mold by now, lay around you. And that’s not even counting the bedroom.

They walk in, bags in hand. Smiling at first, then immediately frowning when they see the state of the apartment; the state of you. Shame hits you like a brick. You think about the scene in Home Alone when the robber gets a iron smashed into his face. You think that might feel better.

James is the first to drop everything and coddle you, as usual. He rushes to you, thrusting himself in your arms. You immediately feel better.

“Are you okay? You look so sad, puppy.” He strokes your hair and you smile as the familiar James scent reaches you.

Remus and Sirius are hugging you moments after.

You cry but laugh. You feel silly for ever thinking they were visiting another person.

“What’s going on? You missed us?” Sirius says, pouting.

“Yes, I missed you!” you cry-laugh and throw a pillow from the couch at him.

Remus giggles when you miss.

You explain the situation to them and how you got a little insecure in their departure.

Sirius carries you to bed and Remus holds you while James makes you a proper dinner.

After, Remus runs you a bath, just how you like it. Sirius brushes and braids your hair.

While you were taking a bath, it seemed like the trash disappeared magically. You figured Remus had cleaned it.

Nobody mentions the mess, the boys are all just glad you're feeling better.

You fall asleep with all the boys cradled around you in your big bed. You only start to fall into a deep sleep when you hear Sirius snoring softly.

[wildemaven]

strangers : poolside | dave york

pairing: dave york x f!reader word count: 6622 content warnings: 18+ blog; ANGST, soft!Dave, established relationship, miscommunication (like a lot), mentions of alcohol and food, workaholic Dave, morning breath, Dave’s stupid phone, talks of marital woes, slight exhibitionism, breast/nipple/clit play, a random handsome stranger, jealous Dave, talk of having or wanting children, a kiss of fluff, implied/alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn’t know this), reader is mentioned wearing lingerie and a bathing suit- but zero description features, no age given but it’s implied she’s at least over 30, no y/n, established relationship, this is au- no Carol or kids, if I missed anything let me know. notes: ahh! I’m so nervous for this chapter!! But so excited for it also. I’m so glad I took my time with it so it could be exactly what it needed to be— which is kinda of a roller coaster of emotions. While the story is completely fictional, this has felt very cathartic to me because I dealt with a lot of similar thoughts/feelings as the reader. Anywho! Biggest thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for literally holding my hand through this and helping me work through it. 💕 strangers masterlist | previous | next | inspo board | playlist

The soft glow of the television bathes the hotel room in a soft ambient flicker. Faint colors and scene changes adjust the room’s atmosphere. Actors silently exchanging words back and forth, expressions all the more dramatic with the muted volume. The movie you’ve been looking forward to seeing, long forgotten, playing out in silence across the screen. 

As expected, the bed is better than anything you have ever slept in. Its plush mattress, divine and soft. Similar to what you assume it might be like to doze off among the clouds. It braces your bodies with ease through shifting positions as the evening extends into the early hours of the next day. 

The intricate structure of lace and mesh material felt exquisite on your skin. Molding over your body like it was made for you and only you. The cups of the teasing bra cradling the weight of your breast, pushed up on display, enticing enough to bring a man to his knees— the plan at least. Taking your time, admiring yourself in the bathroom mirror once everything was in place. Your eyes roaming over your body, letting your hands follow suit. Imaging all the ways Dave would map over your skin in the same manner. The prospect for what was to come was thrilling. Desire blooming in your veins. Arousal warm and already pooling in the crotch of your panties. It was evident, your body filled with pent up lust, ready to be satiated by your husband. 

You delicately dotted drops of perfume to your skin— base of your throat, behind your ears, inner wrists. The warmth  from your pulse points amplifying the lush fig and sandalwood notes, blending with your natural pheromones instantaneously. Before rejoining Dave, you slipped a hotel robe over your body, concealing the lacey number with wild anticipation.  

His hands, gentle where they met your body with a soft caressing motion. Not rushed or seeking more than they were ready for. Blazing heat emitted from him, scorching your skin with a fieriness you so desperately craved. They stilled. Lingered. 

Dave. Your voice cautious, velvety sweet, calling out to him. 

The sounds that fell from his lips were beyond anything you could have prepared for. A booming roar reverberated through him. Filling the room. Consuming you. As quickly as the rousing fuse had been lit, it had just as quickly fizzled out mid burn. 

Dave’s snoring was like a shock to the system. The warm buzz of arousal dissolved into a cold emptiness as you lay in bed alongside Dave’s sleeping form. No amount of lace or lack thereof, seemed to be enough to seduce the sluggish man, already nodding off when you had come slinking out from the bathroom. Propped up on pillows, his eyelids growing heavy with each forced blink as stared blankly at the television. His dinner plate picked over and discarded onto the nightstand. 

This scenario you knew all too well— and regularly. The build up, always so hopeful. The prospect of Dave having his way with you, pure exhilaration. Your body so desperate, in need of a release that didn’t hail from a hurried moment alone with a tiny vibrating wand before crawling into bed with Dave’s sleeping form.

Your brain refused to shut off as you lay staring up at the ceiling, willing away tears. You finally settled on the only thing that made sense at this early hour.  He no longer desired you like he once did. No amount of time or vacations away could restore that connection. Then there was also that outcome that you dreaded the idea of entertaining— maybe it just wasn’t you he desired. 

*

The whole evening had been on a constant loop. Replaying and taking precedence over your usual fictional fantasies that unfolded upon entering a heavy slumber. The hotel suite balcony offered a reprieve from the room, quietly sipping your coffee alone. 

It was mid morning when you decided to crawl out of bed, in desperate need of something to numb the dullness that settled behind your eyes. Sleep did little to ease the tornado of thoughts that swept through your mind as the sun rose over the coast of California. Your brain had a funny way of tormenting you with fabricated information. On high alert the minute it sensed uncertainty, in search of answers to unasked questions.

As the coastal fog burned off, you were able to properly take in the view. A colony of gulls flew by, their collaborative squawking was every bit as annoying as it was captivating. 

Fellow early risers strolled the sidewalks below, coffees and large water bottles in tow, all absorbed in their little private worlds. Couples hand in hand, in search of  the perfect ocean view to start their day. A strange feeling of resentment had crept in. These strangers, carrying on with their lives, seemingly unaware of the jealousy you harbored for their happiness. 

Your thoughts trail back to Dave and the evening again. It was only the first day and the optimism around this vacation was starting to wane. 

“Shit— I must have really needed some fucking sleep.”  Dave groans as he joins you on the balcony, his hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The sheet wrinkles embedded into the side of his face matched the similar ones on his cotton pajama pants and gray sleep shirt. His sleep etched voice is one of your favorite things to wake up to each morning. “I don’t even remember falling asleep at all.” 

His body molds into yours, caging you in against the edge of the balcony. He’s warm and soft first thing in the morning. Like a moth to a flame, his lips find your skin. Tiny wet pecks from the base of your neck to your temple. 

There was a point in time where things in your marriage felt very easy and Dave wasn’t always so invested in his work. You never felt like you were competing with files and phone calls for his undivided attention. The infatuation he held for you was palpable, leaving little room for doubt or worry. 

When you met Dave there was an enigmatic quality about him. Neither of you were in a relationship or seeking out one, but also not completely opposed to the prospect of exploring one if something happened to fall into your laps. A chance meeting at a bar when his drink had literally fallen into your lap led to the rest of the evening spent tucked away in a dimly lit booth. The buzz of alcohol had you talking his ear off, and he allowed you to do so, consuming every little detail about you. 

Dave shared minimal information about himself. Very on brand for his reserved but alluring demeanor. Aside from basic introductory  facts, the only real thing you knew about him was his recent discharge from the military and his onboarding career in the CIA. 

By the end of the night, you felt there was something intriguing about Dave, completely drawn to him. He was kind, generous and clearly the greatest listener. Ideally, he was someone you could see yourself with, wanting to know the ins and outs of who he was. So much so, you gave him your number. Scrawled across a beer soaked napkin, the ink bleeding out as each digit was carefully written out. He even said he’d call, leaving you with a kiss on your cheek before rejoining his buddies and calling it a night. 

It was a week before you heard from him again, nearly giving up any hope he would be even remotely interested in you. 

You learned that Dave’s walls were strong. Built of the strongest concrete. Resistant and impermeable to the elements. Over time his walls couldn’t withstand the depth at which you were willing to endure for him. Slowly crumbling and exposed. Finding that underneath the rubble was a man who was all in. A man who loved hard and never once made you question his loyalty to you. 

“We can blame it on the jet lag.” You laugh softly into the coffee mug, taking another sip— definitely in need of more. 

“Good morning, Honey.” He says, nudging his aquiline nose into your cheek, instinctively turning into him. 

“Morning, Babe.” Dave turns you, the top of your robe slides off your shoulder— exposing the lace set you were still wearing.  

“You’re still wearing it. Didn’t even get the chance to peel it off of you like I wanted to last night.” Pulling at the robe belt, the front falls open. Dave’s eyes widened, taking you all in, his irises now a deeper shade of his usual brown. “

“Yeah, well—“ You huffed, suppressing the impulse to acknowledge the hurt that was still ever-present. 

“Fuck— Baby, I’m sorry. I'm two for two now. Let me make it up to you?” 

Dave’s hands breach the inside of your robe. His hips flush to you— he’s hard, morning wood ready and eager. His deft fingers slide up the length of your spine, your skin covered in goosebumps once he reaches the clasp of the bra. 

“Morning coffee breath— I’m gonna go brush my teeth.” Your head swerves his oncoming kiss, pulling the front of your robe closed again. 

A hitch in your confidence. Curling in on yourself as you dislodge your body from where he has you pinned. That hot coiling response building in your lower abdomen, moments ago desperate for the way Dave wants you, now subsiding to a low simmer.

“You— um, have those calls you still need to make this morning?” You ask him, standing half way through the door, turning enough to catch the sunlight illuminating the bafflement on Dave’s face. 

“Uh— Yeah. Still need to make those calls.” Dave’s dejected tone hits you like a bucket of ice. His head hanging and palms digging into his eyes. 

“How long do you think it should take?”

“Few hours, give or take. Done by noon at the latest.”

“Okay. Maybe, if you’re up for it when you’re done— maybe we can go to the pool? Lounge a bit. Have some drinks. I got some new bathing suits, and have been dying to wear them. I think you might even like them.” An olive branch in the form of you served on a platter wearing minimal clothing. The likelihood of Dave accepting is rather favorable. 

It’s unmistakable, devouring you— all conspicuous like and intense. Surveying every inch of your form leaning against the doorway. 

Up the length of your smooth bare legs. The front of the robe flapping with the ocean breeze offering a peek of thigh and black lace. The fingers of your free hand toy with the collar, making it lay askew across your chest. A single breast exposed to cool morning air, nipple tight against the sheer material. 

His gaze finally meets yours, shoulders lowering to their normal level. The slightest lift at the corner of his mouth, tip of his tongue gliding over his full bottom lip. Both of you landing on the same page, temptation reciprocated with blatant irresistibility. 

“Yeah— Yeah, we can definitely do that.” He replied, his smile widening, the corner of his eyes crinkled— the Dave you fell in love with all those years ago in his truest form. 

“Okay. I’ll order us some breakfast then. More coffee too. I drank the whole pot.” There’s a giddy feeling erupting inside of you. It seems like it’s been ages since you’ve seen Dave smile— genuinely smiling. 

“Not surprised by that one bit. Hey—“ Capturing your attention before you’ve completely left the balcony. “I love you, you know that right?”

“Of course I do. I love you, too.”

Maybe it’s complacency that makes you feel like things within your marriage are stagnant, even borderline dull as of recently. The lack of regular intimacy, a normal thing all couples encounter at some point through their years together, not a telltale sign of extramarital meandering. Maybe that’s also not a bad thing. Just a season of life. A small hiccup in your otherwise normal and loving relationship. 

*

As promised, it’s noon by the time Dave wraps up his final phone call and you’re both sitting atop the roof of the hotel. Basking in the sweltering rays of the California sun is exactly what was needed after being cooped up in the room all morning. 

Breakfast in bed while Dave paced the length of the balcony. One phone call after the next, all varying in degrees of duration and intensity based on how animated Dave’s hand gestures and contorted expressions were. You had delivered his plate of eggs, sausage and toast during his first call, leaving it on the small table along with a fresh pot of coffee. He kissed you and mouthed a ‘thank you’ before sinking his teeth into the burnt buttered bread and continuing his meeting or whatever it was he was doing. 

The minute he walked in announcing he was finished, your two piece suit was on and you were throwing Dave’s swim trunks at him from across the room. Tote bag containing pool lounging necessities— sunscreen, sunglasses, current book, wallet —was packed and waiting by the door. Your sheer excitement filled the room, a contagious feeling in the way Dave was mildly laughing at your frantic antics. 

Either you both were the only ones staying at this hotel or no one else found joy in a gorgeous rooftop pool like you did. In the few hours spent lounging poolside, there was one, maybe two, other guests that also had an afternoon by the pool on their itinerary, too. There was a silent understanding among everyone that they stay in their respective spaces, evenly spaced out.  

No one was complaining though. Fewer people meant less people lined up for cocktail refills at the bar. Fewer obnoxious conversations you didn’t have to drown out while focusing on the romance novel you were close to finishing. Zero avoidance of bodies in the water while Dave and you took a dip to cool off. Aside from visiting the pacific, this is how you intended to spend the rest of your days in California. 

The moment you dive into your book, time and everything around you becomesa faint distraction from the fictional world you're absorbed in. The sheriff with his cowboy drawl and ridiculously handsome mustache, falls for the sweet baker. A reunion of past lovers, doing life together somewhere on the east coast in the small town they both reside in. A typical smitten cowboy vying for her love and attention at any chance he gets. There’s a permanent smile plastered across your face, dog-eared corners for future you to return to with the intention to relive the passages all over again. Page by page, you’re so engrossed with their whirlwind romance— you never want it to end. 

The book consumes you longer than you planned for. So much so, you're unaware of the fact that Dave is no longer immersed in the LA Times he picked up in the hotel lobby earlier. The inked paper now folded neatly and discarded on the ground next to your tote.

Dave’s tortoise colored shades blocking out the sun and hiding the fact that he’s passed out. For how long, you’re not sure. Breathing is light and rhythmic. His usual thundering snore trades for small puffs of air from his parted lips. His bare golden chest, now a pale shade of red— shit!

Folding the current page of the book, tossing it to the end of your lounge chair, you sit up in search for more sunscreen for Dave, and yourself. Sifting through the contents of your tote, finding the bottle conveniently at the bottom. Hating the feeling of residual lotion getting between your jewelry, you remove your rings and toss them into a secured pocket inside the tote. 

“Dave? Babe, wake up!” Gently nudging his bare shoulder to wake him. 

“Hmmm—“ Dave grumbles a string of incoherent sleep laden words, lifting his head in your direction. 

“Sorry. You passed out and I was so caught up in my book, I didn’t realize the umbrella shade wasn’t covering us anymore. You’re not completely burnt, but we’ve been here for a while. Sit up and let me put some more sunscreen on you.” You motion for him to sit forward, then squeeze a heaping amount of lotion in your hand, tossing the back into the tote. 

Dave hissed, his back arching as you smooth the lotion over his warmed skin, allowing himself to ease into your touch after a few tensed moments. His head hangs below his shoulders as you continue to work the sunscreen over every inch of him that’s exposed to the blazing sun. 

“Fuuuuck— that feels nice.” He groans when your touch switches to a different pressure. Adjusting your focus from protecting him from the harmful rays to pampering him, working out the built up tension he carries around daily. 

Your fingers dig into the meat of his back as they glide up the length of his spine, pinching and squeezing over the rounded muscles of his shoulders. Thumbs pressing into the tender spot in his neck he’s been rubbing at for the better part of the last few weeks, craning his neck to the side. So relaxed you can barely make out his mumbled appreciation. “That fucking knot has been bothering me— Ouch! Fucking hell, woman!” 

“Shh! So dramatic.” You laugh, easing up on the pressure. Your hands still lingering, smoothing over his broadness, taking advantage of the closeness. 

“Oh, quit it. Those hands always were fucking magic, though. Already feels better when I move it.” Demonstrating how limber and loose it feels, rolling his head from side to side. 

Were. His use of past tense doesn’t go unnoticed. It might have just been an unintentional slip, but its use isn’t lost on you in the slightest. It feels like it’s been ages, since you had explored each other—  more than just a fleeting brush of hands. Reveling in an endless honeymoon phase, well beyond the traditional sense. You can only assume he had that same realization too, hence his choice in using were instead of are. But this moment feels too good to dwell on the logistics of proper past and present tense, so you push the thought aside. 

“I’m sure if you play your cards right, there’s plenty more magic these hands can do later.” You playfully purred, not missing the way Dave’s eyebrows jut up from behind his sunglasses— that catches his attention. 

You settle back into your lounge chair, sliding the straps of your bikini top down and off your arms, turning it into a makeshift strapless top as you prepare to cover yourself in a fresh layer of sunscreen. 

 “What are you doing?” Dave tilts his head forward, just enough so he can peer at you over his glasses. 

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m reapplying some on myself, too.” Running the oily lotion up your arms and shoulders. 

“Here. Let me help you. Seems only fair.” His hand reaches out to you.  

“It’s fine, Dave. I can manage.” 

You’re not sure why you're shocked by his offer. Probably because you just assumed he would be diving back into reading up on worldly news. Top slimy politician was fighting for his life against rather damning accusations— the man is guilty, solely based on public opinion polls and your inherent duty as a woman to always believe the woman. Research shows more couples are putting their careers first, waiting to have children well into their thirties— that one does catch your eye, making a mental note to snag the article at some point. Sure, you can manage, but you also don’t want to. Not with him right here, so willing and capable. 

“Don’t be stubborn, Baby. And don’t think I won’t drag that sweet ass of yours over here if I have to. Give me the bottle and sit down.” 

It feels incredible. You have to remind yourself that you’re both in a public setting. This isn’t the time nor the place to let the salacious side of you self-indulge, but Dave’s hands are inducing the most carnal thoughts and it’s taking everything in you to not haul him back up to the room. 

Dave had practically hauled you into the chair. Maneuvering you both into a comfortable sitting position, his legs spread and feet planted firmly on the ground and you practically sitting in his lap. 

The task at hand is long forgotten, no longer a priority or even a relevant thought as you melted into him. His chest firm against your back, thighs caging and tight against your own. 

It’s when his hands cup your breast that nearly sends you into another dimension, so brazen and menacing. A practiced musician, slowly plucking each string of his beloved instrument as the chords play the intro to his well rehearsed song. Rolling your peaked nipples between his fingers, the fabric of your top adding just the right amount of pinched pulsation. Your eyes fluttering shut as your head falls back onto his shoulder, stifling a moan as pleasure surges through you. 

“I swear to god, Dave— fuck! Someone is going to catch us! ahh! Y-you need to s-stop before…” 

“Hmmm. I don’t know, Baby— I think you want them to see. Want them to catch my hands all over you. Hear the sounds I’m able to pull from you. I could probably fuck you right here and no one would even care.” Dave murmurs into your ear. A husked sonorous tone that has you completely surrendering to him. 

He seems to have this whole thing thoroughly thought out in a brief amount of time. Keen to his surroundings, already having scanned the entire area, aware of the people situated in cabanas on the far corner of the pool— paying no mind to either of you. His methodical nature takes hold, even as exposed as you are, he’d never put you in any situation he didn’t have complete confidence in. 

“Dave—“ Your body writhes with each continuous change in motion, the way he’s oscillating between a dizzy tweak of your nipples and the sudden dart of his tongue grazing your ear lobe. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you. It’s been so long— fucking miss the way you feel, Baby.” Fuck. He’s not wrong. 

You might have even mentioned you would be into it at some point. All vulnerable and the slightest possibility of being detected. It was more thrilling than you had expected it to be. You weren’t even ashamed how you were so absolutely turned on by your own boldness. 

“Please—“ 

“I bet you’re fucking wet for me too. Hmm? Would take much— pull those skimpy little bottoms to the side, bet I’d slide right in.” God you were! Unquestionably so, and throbbing. 

His hand traveled to where you’ve been craving him for so long, fingers brushing the top of your bathing suit bottoms.  

“Christ! Don’t you d-dare put those lotion covered fingers anywhere near my— Fuuuuck!”

Dave wouldn’t dare, but that doesn’t mean he won’t work around it. His hand cupping your clothed mound, your eager hips rocking against the heel of his palm. His face smashes into your cheek when he feels how wet you are, your bottoms sticky with arousal and clinging to your pussy as he slides two fingers back up to your aching clit. Groaning as he takes your lobe between his teeth and gently bites down. 

“Tsk tsk!” Clicking his tongue in a menacing manner. “Eyes open, Baby. Need you to keep watch, can’t have anyone seeing you while you fall apart.”

You’ve missed this side of him. Spontaneous sex was always something that was a regular occurrence in your early relationship even well into your marriage. You always looked forward to the days he’d come home without so much as a hello when he walked through the front door. His briefcase and coat were abandoned somewhere in the entryway— I missed you so much today. Need you right now —and then he was fucking you like a starved man against the wall in the hallway. 

“Dave—“ Your lashes flutter, the sun unforgiving as you fight to keep your eyes focused on your surroundings. Your body so desperate for pleasure, so willing to succumb, just needing a little help to get there.

Each tender circle he draws over your clit has your brain muddled with bliss. A restrained whimper escapes, doing your best to concentrate as Dave continues to work you into a euphoric mess. But it’s so hard when your body has been yearning for this, all of this, for so long. 

Your nails bite into his thighs as your lower abdomen begins to tighten. 

“Baby, you’re gonna have to be quiet. Those gorgeous sounds are gonna get us in trouble.” Fuck! Almost there! So fucking close—

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

“Dave— is that…” The lounge vibrates, halting Dave’s movements. The orgasm that was just starting to barrel towards you, vanishing from your grasp. 

“Shit! I, uh, think someone saw us—“ What?! No one is even paying attention!

Dave extricates himself from the chair, adjusting his sunglasses and his pronounced erection bulging under his swim trunks. He hastily grabs for some things as you sit perplexed by the sudden change in his demeanor. Your sexy audacious husband is gone before your eyes— leaving you with the tight lipped cryptic Dave, who you can’t seem to get a read on. 

“What the fuck, Dave!” Watching as he slips on his sandals and throws his shirt over himself, playing no mind to a single button. 

“Let’s finish this later— when we get back to the room, hmm? I’m gonna… go get us more drinks.” He says as he kisses the top of your head and heads in the direction of the bar. Hoping he brings back some shots, because you’re gonna need something strong to take the fucking edge off. 

“Yeah— sure…” You say. Stunned and breathless.

*

You're not sure if you want to cry, scream or laugh as you crawl back into your chair. Maybe a mixture of all of them. What a sight that would be. 

That brief glimpse of the fun adventurous Dave was intoxicating, even now your body is still buzzing and aroused. There’s a pang in your chest at how quickly he was able to mold back into the man you’ve needed for the past year, yearned to have back. Then instantly closed off and distant as if it never happened. Maybe the sun was getting to you, that whole moment some fucking hallucinated fantasy. 

Rather than dwell on it, you push the hurt aside. You reach for your book and settle back into the chair. Finding where you left off and jumping back in with the handsome sheriff, who literally worships the ground that this woman walks on— must be nice. 

“S’cuse me ma’am. Sorry to bother you, but is this seat taken?” A deep voice breaks your concentration, realizing he’s in fact asking you if the unoccupied seat next to you is available. 

A man in his mid forties, maybe early fifties is standing at the foot of the chair next to you. Your sunglasses hide the fact that you're giving him a once over, noting every detail about this random stranger who’s decided of all the empty seats, he wants the one next to you. 

His hair is slightly disheveled in a deliberate manner. Peppered streaks of gray throughout his curly locks. He’s wearing green and red plaid swim shorts and a worn dark blue t-shirt, kind of an odd pairing but it seems to work for him. You notice a dimple hidden beneath the gray scruff that almost hides his angular features. He seems harmless and rather handsome— plus, it would be rude to turn him away with no explanation. 

“Nope. Feel free to use it.” You smile at him kindly and go in search of the words you had just read. 

“Thanks so much.” He says as he removes his shirt and settles down on the lounge chair. 

“Of course. It’s no problem at all.” You tell him. 

You don’t even dare to look in his direction. You imagine this is what Eve felt like, tempted and allured by carnality in the form of an apple. Except your carnal desire is a fizzling orgasm your husband couldn’t even be bothered to deliver, now reawakening at the sight of this beautiful man. 

You would never act on anything, even as beautiful as he was, you were married and you love Dave— but that didn’t mean you couldn't admire, sunglasses masking your lingering eyes. 

“I’m Joel by the way. Joel Miller.” His hand outstretched to you, that damn dimple even more pronounced when he smiles. 

“I take it you’re not from around these parts are you now, Joel.” You give him your name and return the handshake— his grip is rather firm, but friendly. 

 “What gave it away?” He laughs. There’s a hint of southern drawl woven into his rich voice. 

“Well, you don’t seem like the California boy type for starters. Not that that’s a bad thing— I just get the impression you’re far from home.” You fold another page and drop your book into your bag, your attempt at reading sidelined again. 

“You’d be correct then. Texas— born ‘n raised. Since we’re makin’ impressions, I’m gonna guess you’re not from ‘round here either?” He looks over to you, his arms crossed over his tanned chest. The breeze catching a few of his curls, tossing them about. 

“You would also be correct. So what brings you all the way west, cowboy?” 

“My daughter, actually. She’s gettin’ married this week. Fiancé’s family is out here and they’ve got connections and what not, so they’re able to do it here at the hotel. They put me up in one of the suites, bein’ I am the father of the bride an’ all.” 

“Oh! Congratulations then. I’m sure you’re so excited then.” 

“Yea’. Crazy seein’ her all grown up an’ goin’ off on her own. Still got one more though. She’s turning 16– little wild thing she is. Keeps me on my toes, but I love her for it.”

You get the sense that being a father is one of his favorite things. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he started talking about his kids. 

“You and your wife must be so proud.”

“Nah, no wife— or girlfriend. Jus’ me and my girls. So, now that I’ve bothered you with my life story. What brings you out this way to California?” 

What am I even doing in California? You think to yourself. It’s then you catch sight of your husband at the bar. Dave is already looking in your direction, leaning against the wood counter, waving at you with his phone glued to his ear. 

“See that guy over at the bar? The one talking on the phone.” You wave back at Dave. You pick up on the shift in his demeanor from where you're sitting. His jaw clenched and brows furrowed enough you can make out the deep lines across his forehead. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was shooting daggers at Joel— but you do know better, and that’s exactly what’s happening. “That’s my husband. We’re supposed to be here relaxing— not working. But he’s over there taking a phone call, when he was going to grab us more drinks and I’m here relaxing. Maybe one day he’ll actually show some interest in me again— until then it’s just work work work. Geez— I’m sorry to dump all of that personal shit on you. Like you even care about a stranger's marital problems.”  

“No need to apologize— I get it. My ex and me had our own issues. Tried to work through them, for the sake of the kids n’ all.” He says, waving off your apology.  

“I’m guessing it didn’t go so well?” You look out over the pool, catching a few gulls passing over. You can already sense his heavy answer before he even gives it to you. 

“Well, she’s my ex for a reason. But it’s for the best. And not saying that’s what’s gonna happen for you. We love our kids and do this whole co-parentin’ thing better than when we were married. Umm— y'all got any kids?”

“Uhh— no, no kids. Yet… I think? I mean, we both talked about once our careers were established we would start trying. And we did try for a bit, but never got pregnant, which we were okay with— figured it would happen when it happens. But now, I’m not really sure if it’s what he wants anymore.” You pick at the polish on your nails. 

You realize it’s been awhile since you and Dave readdressed the conversation about having kids. It’s always been idling in the back of your mind. Becoming a mother was something you would love to do. With Dave never really ever being present or interested in any sort of in-depth conversation, you haven’t really discussed where you both stand now on the topic. 

“Have you asked him?”

“No. I haven’t. I probably sh—“

You’re cut off when Dave reappears, holding nothing but his phone and wallet. 

“Hey, Sweetheart!” There’s a hint of irritation in his voice, his tone a slightly higher pitch than usual, though he tries to hide it as he bends to kiss the top of your head. 

“Babe, this is Joel. He’s here for his oldest daughter’s wedding. Joel, this is my husband Dave. Where’s our drinks?” Attempting to ease the weird tension he brought back with him instead of your drinks. . 

Dave’s glaring at Joel. His lips pressed in a tight line and his nostrils flared. Irritated? No, it’s jealousy. He’s jealous and it’s oozing from him. Dave was jealous at the attention, all innocent and friendly, that you were receiving from another man. 

“Uh, nice to meet you.” Dave reaches over you, taking Joel’s hand in his. He’s friendly enough, even though his smile looks rather forced. “We hate to run out on you like this, Joel— we’ve got dinner reservations later on and the sun is starting to get to me. You don’t mind if we head to the room early, Babe.”

“Yeah, of course, Baby. Let’s go— you probably need more water and some rest before dinner.” You get up from the chair to pull your cover up dress on and begin to gather everything between yours and Joel’s chair, throwing it haphazardly back into your bag. “It was so nice meeting you, Joel. Hope your daughter has a beautiful day and you have a great time.”

“Thank you. Now you two get outta here and enjoy your evening. My brother is wanderin’ around somewhere. I’m sure he’ll end up here at some point. Nice meetin’ y'all.” Joel says, giving a cordial nod and a two finger wave. 

You call out to Dave when you realize he’s already halfway to the exit, hoping he’ll snap out of whatever this thing is he’s doing. Knowing it’s more than just the sun that’s bothering him. 

“Dave, what’s going on? Are you okay?” You ask, stepping into the elevator with him. 

“I’m good. Got a bit of a headache. Probably just too much sun.” His thumb smashes into the floor number. The elevator doors slowly obstructing the rooftop view. 

*

The walk back to the room felt like it was never ending. The slap on your sandals against the carpeted floor and exchanged hello’s with the sweet old lady dragging far more bars than she could handle were the only sounds echoing through the long hallway. 

Dave’s body, all broad and inflexible, blocked the room door as he searched for the key card in his wallet. 

“Dave? Are you going to talk to me and tell me what’s actually going on?” You ask softly. 

The door beeps and Dave pushes it open. He seems to not have lost all his senses because he holds it open for you. 

“Dave, will you at least look at me— please?” You toss everything you’re carrying onto the bed, watching him walk over to the floor to the large windows. 

Even from behind, you know he’s wearing his sharp scowl. Proven by the way his hip is cocked out and on hand resting on his waist, head hanging with his attention on the floor. Too embarrassed to acknowledge he might have overreacted up at the pool. 

“Dave, were you jealous?.” You ask, your voice velvety and sweet. Taking a few tempered steps, you close the distance between you and where he’s standing, needing him to know everything was okay. You smooth over his solid back, all brooding with his shoulder blades tightly drawn together. One hand sliding around to his chest and the other reaching for the hand hanging at his side, intertwining your fingers with his, your grip tightening around him. “Baby— you were, weren't you? It’s okay if you were, you know. It’s obviously a natural reaction to have. I know I’d react the same way if it were you and some gorgeous woman. But baby, you know I only have eyes for you and only you— always. I love you, Dave.”

“I love you and I’m sorry.” Dave sighs, his hand squeezing back. I overreacted and shouldn’t have— it's implied without him actually voicing it, but you know he means it. 

“Did you still want to go out for dinner? If you’re not feeling up to it, we can just order in again so you can rest.” You ask him, resting your nose and lips against his sun warmed skin, breathing him in. 

His aroma is pungent, but familiarly pleasant. A subtle note of coconut blends with his trademark spicy musk and sweat. It reminds you of the summer while you were dating, Dave whisked you away to Rehoboth Beach on the coast of Delaware. Renting out a beach house on the water where you spent every morning watching the sun flee the horizon from the front porch. Evenings spent walking near the water’s edge, recounting your favorite parts of the day and dreaming of a future together.

“Yeah, we can still go out. I just— I need a minute. Gonna get some fresh air.” He says, turning his head to tell you over his shoulder. 

“Okay. I’m going to take a quick shower then.” You kiss the nape of his neck before you leave, grabbing the robe off the accent chair as you head to the bathroom. 

At the flick of the switch, a soft glow of light cascades from the decorative wall sconces. Everything becomes very automatic as you move through the room, placing the robe over the sink,  ridding yourself of your pool attire, thrown into a growing pile in the corner of the room. Intent on unwinding, trusting the spray of hot water will alleviate the weight of today’s tension before going out with your husband, until you hear Dave’s voice fading as he walks out into the balcony, muffled by the distant waves and passing cars. 

“Hey, Ashley. It’s Dave, sorry about earlier…”

Ashley. It’s light and beautiful, and yet feels like the most threatening thing to have ever pierce through your heart. All your emotions flowing, congealing as one giant mass within your ribcage. Its numbness best describes the way you feel, hollowing out the pain in your chest. It's too much to deal with or even believe. You shut the door, avoidance being one of your worst traits— but if you don’t confront it, it doesn’t exist. 

Likes, Comments & Reblogs Appreciated

[lowkeyrobin]

Hello!! Wondering if you could do Quackity, Tommy, Tubbo, Charlie and Ranboo with an S/O who loves sewing? Sometimes they probably have to physically pulled away from the sewing machine while making something cause it's like, 3 am lol. But the sewing machine doesn't make alot of noise, so it wouldn't interfere with the others sleep

yeah of course! ; also sorry if this is wrong in any way, I don't sew lol but hopefully my knowledge on it was enough gang ; thanks for requesting, hope u enjoy!

MCYT ; sew, sew, so?

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, quackity & slimecicle

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he usually wakes up for a 3am water / piss break

and just find you at your sewing machine

"why are you up at this hour?"

"sewing"

"come to bed, you can continue in the morning"

"fine"

he loves your little hobby tho

he loves when you fix up and practically make him new clothes

he's so appreciative of it

sew something new? he's wearing it on stream asap to brag that you fixed it up / made it

RANBOO

you made them a bunch of stars to hang from their ceiling in their stream room

they won't shut up about it on stream when someone asks lmao

"oh those? y/n made them for me!"

he catches you at your machine at like 4am sometimes cause he needs a midnight snack and tiredly stares at you like 🤨😒

"cmon, let's go to bed"

"ugh"

lovessss helping you find new fabric to work with

he tried sewing a little cloud plush... yikes

new experiences for everyone ig

ALEX QUACKITY

literallt can't even trust this man around your shit

he will find a way to sew up a deformed duck plush

but he really appreciates when you make stuff for him and will never stop bragging about it

"guys look I got a new shirt"

"it's ugly"

"don't insult my partners skills, asshole"

also loves trying to find new fabrics with you

half the time they lay around cause you don't know how yo use them

like how tf r u gonna use a fabric with a cat pattern all over it but the bg is NAVY BLUE.

he's always sending u pinterest inspo

you never knew he even had pinterest before he sent u the first couple 💀

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

has to physically pull you away from your work at night

like god damn why are you so committed?

absolutely adores the things you make for him

he'll literally wear them out and beg you to fix them

he has so many little trinkets you've made for him too

you made him a whole ass blanket and it sits on the back of his desk chair for when it's cold

it's got all sorts of patterns from the scrap fabric you needed to use but he lovessss it

"im gonna use this blanket to suffocate you bitch!"

"wtf charlie"

"it will happen! put the ribeye BACK IN THE MICROWAVE."

[bucksangel]

angel ik it’s about 12 hours later since you posted about being bored and wanting some asks, but i’ve just woken up and am just imagining how it would feel waking up next to bucky, him trying to pull you back into bed with “come back to bed doll, it’s too early to get up” as he basically drags you into him so he can have you in his arms again. (can you tell i want a bucky to stop me from going to work by basically suffocating me in his arms) 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

ok ok but same?? i just woke up and thank GOD i don't have to work today bc if i did and had a bucky in my bed i'd be forced to call out bc there's no way i'm gonna pass up the opportunity to get squished to death between those arms

and now you've given me inspo so here you go <3 (this is also the shortest thing i've ever written it feels weird)

Just One More

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 828

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, kissing and smooching, that's it i think

Everything is soft, warm, and hazy, it’s almost like being wrapped in the morning sun's rays as you float across the sky on a cloud. True peace exists only at this moment; Bucky’s arms are wrapped around your body, sleeping with his head on your chest while you run your fingers through his hair, absentmindedly kissing the top of his head.

But then your damn alarm decides to go off louder than ever - the alarm’s tone doesn’t change, it just always seems to be louder whenever you’re too comfortable to get out of bed. And dear Lord you don’t want to. You want to stay right here all day, only getting up to eat or use the bathroom. Other than that, you’d be adamant that neither of you were to leave your little bubble of love.

You’re nearly unable to reach your phone due to Bucky lying almost fully on top of you, but you manage to snag it before the alarm gives him a rude wake-up. Upon stopping it, you drop your phone on the pillow next to you, wrapping your arm around Bucky’s back again to rub up and down in a soothing motion. He stirs under your touch, rubbing his face into your chest like he’s a cat burrowing into a blanket, hiding from the world in the hopes of being allowed a few more minutes of sleep.

He groans when you laugh, your fingernails scratching at his scalp.

“Honey?” You whisper softly, kissing his forehead. “Baby, come on, we have to get up.”

“No,” he grunts, blindly reaching up one of his arms so he can cover your eyes with his hand. “Go back to sleep.”

You can’t help but laugh a little louder, especially when Bucky starts grumbling about needing his beauty sleep.

“You’re beautiful enough,” you say with a smile, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand off of your face so you can kiss his palm. “We need to get ready.”

Huffing, Bucky lifts his head, blinking several times before giving you a look so mean that others might be afraid, but it only makes you giggle harder. He’s such a baby. And it’s absolutely impossible not to kiss that pout off of his face, so you do. You press a soft, lingering kiss to his plush lips until he stops his whining and leans into it. But then you pull away, and Bucky pouts again.

“You’re going to wake me up and only give me one kiss?” He huffs again as he lifts himself off of your body so he can hover over you, one hand planted next to your head while the other grabs your left hand, threading your fingers together and bringing them up to his mouth so he can kiss your knuckles. “You know I’m going to need at least three more before I can even consider letting you out of this bed.”

“Three?” You ask with a laugh, using your free hand to cup his cheek. “How about two?”

“Four,” He grunts, eyes squinting.

“One?”

“Now that’s just rude!” Bucky exclaims as he pulls further back so he can truly look at you so incredulously that you can’t help but laugh again. “One kiss isn’t good enough. I need five.”

“Oh, now it’s five kisses?” Your giggling continues when he nods, dipping down to steal one. “How about this: I give you four more kisses and then we get up and get ready. Then I’ll give you another five kisses before we leave. Deal?”

Bucky sighs, knowing he’s lost this battle. Damn you and your tempting lips.

“Fine,” He grumbles, leaning down again.

With each kiss he gives you, you mumble one, two, three. But the final kiss gets a little more heated. His tongue slips through your lips and into your mouth, neither of you caring about the fact that you haven’t brushed your teeth yet. How can you when the man you love is so adamant about showing his affection for you that he gets genuinely upset when he can’t even hold your hand?

Before you lose yourself too far in the kiss, you pull away breathlessly. “Four.”

Bucky sighs, pulling away and rolling off your body. He gives you his best puppy dog eyes while you sit up and stretch, letting the blanket fall into your lap. It’s just as you move to get out of bed when he grabs your wrist again.

“Baby,” He says, causing you to turn and look at him with a playfully raised eyebrow. “Just one more?”

He smiles when you roll your eyes because just like he can never say no to you, he knows that you’d never deny him of anything that makes him happy. One final time, you lean over and kiss him, pulling away almost immediately so he can’t wrap his arms around you - because then you know you’d never leave the bed.

“Now, come on. We can’t be late to our own wedding.”

[angeliicheartt]

🐬 "ᴘᴜʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ!" — send a dialogue prompt and a character and i'll write a blurb!

“i’ll always be here for you.” 🙏 i need a sickfic with my bby shinsou 😞

“ɪ’ʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʙᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ.”

includes: hitoshi shinso

fem!reader

note: 0.9k wc, comfort, mentions of pills (medication), everyone say thank you sennie's dream for giving me creative inspo to write

you bury your head further into your irritatingly hot pillow, trying to find some sort of comfort in the sweat-drenched sheets you're lying in. it's too bright, too hot, too cold, too stuffy all at once.

waking up to your alarm this morning had practically been like a zombie rising from the dead. your head was pounding, a nasty cough burrowing into the back of your throat, and your sheets soaked with sweat. after sending a quick note to aizawa, you immediately fell back asleep and have been on and off falling in and out of sleep all day.

you feel your phone buzz, as it had been doing practically all day. a whine leaves your raspy throat as you grab the device, the bright screen causing you to squint as you hastily lower the brightness. your free hand massages your temple as you check the notifications you had received during your slumber. a couple from each of your friends, and about ten messages from your boyfriend, hitoshi.

the first few messages asking where you were during classes, and eventually lead to him figuring out you're sick and texting you every hour to see if you were up. you prop your elbows up against your mattress as you text the boy back.

checking the time, you notice that classes got out 15 minutes ago. you sigh as you lay your head against your pillow again, shutting your eyes to spare you the migraine forming at the forefront of your head. 

only seconds after you shut your eyes you hear a small knock at your dorm door. your eyebrows furrow as you crack open one eye, “what?” you call, loud enough to be heard.

“it’s your boyfriend,” a low voice calls back, the familiar tones causing your lips to quirk up if only slightly, “come in.”

the violet-haired boy enters smoothly, a takeout bag in one hand, using the other to shut your door behind him as silently as he can before padding over to you. crouching by your head his hand smooths your hair down and out of your sweaty face as he places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“how’re you feeling?” he murmurs, placing the bag he brought in on top of your side table. 

“like shit,” you murmur against the pillow, your cheek squished against it, muddying your words. He chuckles softly, tucking your hair behind your ear as he murmurs, “im sorry, angel,”

“i brought you some soup, as well as medicine and some water bottles,” he says as he stands up once again. the dull screeching of wood against wood prods at your ears as he drags your desk chair over to be next to your bed. sitting down he unpacks the takeout bag he brought. placing the takeout bowl on the nightstand, followed by three water bottles and a small bottle of medicine. 

“you didn’t need to do all that, toshi,” you murmur, only slightly louder than a whisper due to the dull ache clouding your head. 

“i wanted to, angel,” he says softly, his deft fingers opening the container of soup as he grabs the plasticware from the bag. he stirs the soup briefly before getting a spoonful. cupping his free hand under the spoon he carefully guides it towards you. 

“you are not spoon-feeding me right now.”

“i am,” he chuckles, one eyebrow raising at your unmoving frame before you give in, propping yourself up on your elbows once again before leaning forward and taking the spoon into your mouth. 

“this is so cheesy.” you say after swallowing, watching as hitoshi readies another spoonful. 

“you haven’t eaten today, besides i’ve gotta make sure you’re back in class as soon as possible,” he says as you take another spoonful, “it's miserable without you.”

you roll your eyes as a soft smile simultaneously forms on your face. “it can’t be that bad, toshi,”

“it is.”

hitoshi tells you about his “miserable” day as he continues to feed you, and soon you finish the bowl. hitoshi places the spoon into the now empty container before tossing both into the takeout bag. he opens the bottle of medicine, popping two pills out before screwing it shut again. carefully he drops the pills into your hand before reaching to open one of the plastic water bottles he brought for you. you take the now opened water bottle before popping the pills into your mouth, chasing them down with water.

“alright then,” he huffs as he stands up, stretching his back before dragging the chair back towards your desk.

“are you leaving?” you murmur, embarrassed at how dejected you sound.

“‘course not.” he scoffs before sliding in next to you, causing you to make room for him on the small bed.

“can’t leave my girl when she’s suffering, plus i haven’t seen you all day,” he says as he buries his nose in your sweaty neck. “i need my girlfriend time.”

“‘m all sweaty and gross, toshi,” you grumble, pursuing a weak attempt at pushing hitoshi away from you. 

“mm, i know, i don’t care.” he murmurs again, his arms wrapping around your waist, his above averagely cold skin becoming sweet relief to your overheating body.

“oh shit, that feels so nice,” you sigh as you take one of his hands, placing it against your forehead before sighing once again in bliss. “never leave,”

“wasn’t planning on it, i'll always be here for you,” he mutters against your neck, planting a soft kiss before the two of you are lulled to sleep by the other’s presence.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @satelitis @whenanafallsinlove @kozumesphone @tikitsune @goobzi @sviidoll @foxnikki

[zablife]

Trying not to spam up your ask box with sleepover games, so last one, I promise!

What could possibly be going on in this ambiguous Gif, Lee...🤔😏?

Thanks for sending one for John! I love his playful attitude in this gif and decided to give him a wife who matches that energy. I hope you enjoy it! (Side note, ty for being so patient with me as I ride this new wave of inspo for the Bikeriders. Rest assured Peaky has not lost my interest!!)

A Small Distraction

A thick cloud of smoke hung in the air above the three Shelby brothers, evidence of a long morning shut away in the snug discussing Tommy's plans for expansion. It was hardly the place to be on a summer day and you'd come to tempt John with the idea of a drive somewhere far from the heat of the city.

However, the moment the creaky hinges announced your presence, Tommy's cool blue eyes cut into you questioningly.

"Not interrupting am I, gentlemen?" you announced rather than asked, knowing perfectly well that you were intruding.

John grinned widely at your brazen entrance, plucking the cigar from his lips as he called out, "There's my best girl!"

Standing to greet you with a kiss, he gathered you in his arms and you tugged him toward you possessively, lingering a moment longer than usual to irk Tommy.

"Nearly finished, then I'm all yours," John assured you with a squeeze of your hip.

Fanning your face dramatically you protested, "But it's too hot to be shut up in here!"

Tommy set his jaw in obvious displeasure. Through gritted teeth he attempted to be civil, understanding any provocation would only further delay his agenda. "Why don't you help yourself to a glass of cordial and water then?"

You turned to John to see if he might argue with his brother, but he only gave a small nod of agreement, followed by a half hearted shrug. It was a hasty reaction he'd soon regret, realized the moment a tiny crease formed between your brows, the tell tale sign a pout was rapidly spreading to your lips.

But just as your mouth opened to give a clever retort, your eyes drifted to a spot above Tommy's head and you surprised everyone when a beatific smile washed over your face. Suddenly happy to comply, your skirt swished out the door without another word.

However, your husband knew that look all too well. Concealed beneath an angelic mask was a devilish mind at work. Biting down hard on the end of his cigar, John attempted to concentrate on Tommy's words instead of your mischief making, although that soon became more difficult than he anticipated.

Ever so slowly, the window near the bar began to open, revealing your small hand. Freckled arm creeping past the bar and into the room, you hovered just over Tommy's head as you gracefully extended a single finger to beckon to him enticingly.

Your husband had to admit the sight was amusing and he might have laughed had he not seen what came into view next. Your nimble fingers retreating in order to lower the sleeve of your dress, revealing your bare shoulder. His heart began to thunder in his chest as you turned your head to wink at him, an implied promise that you'd only just begun to make him squirm.

As the window opened fully, John gulped as your hand snaked down your neck toward your ample chest. He rolled his neck for a better look around Tommy's head, cigar teetering on the lips of his open jaw and practically salivating at the sight of you unclasping the top buttons of your dress.

Meanwhile Tommy shuffled paperwork and droned on, lighting another cigarette as a new order of business was discussed. However, John's mind was as far away as his glassy eyed stare, full attention now on the empty space where you had momentarily disappeared. He tipped his chair back on two legs, nearly crashing to the floor as you materialized, leaning over the counter to place your naked breasts on full display with an impish smile.

With that John was finished, head falling back as though he'd been shot directly through the heart, a puff of smoke escaping his lips on one last breath as a sane man.

"The fuck's the matter with him, ey?" Tommy asked, voice tinged with irritation at his brother's antics. Arthur shook his head, unaware of what had been happening until he noticed John pressing a palm to his aching cock.

If there was any doubt before, you removed it with a cackle of delight at the scene unfolding before you. There was simply nothing you could do to stifle the giggles that erupted as both Tommy and Arthur twisted around in their chairs to find you hastily closing your top.

"Shows over, boys," you tutted. "And so is your meeting, Thomas," you added with a triumphant raise of your eyebrow.

As Tommy watched John sprint out the door to you, he mumbled, "No fucking discipline in this company."

Zablife Sleepover

----------------

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[halucynator]

hey babe ! i saw that you take mattheo riddle requests xx i was wondering if you could write a mattheo riddle x reader where reader gets dumped (by whoever you want) and mattheo riddle comforts them? Thanks x

Pretty Crier

Pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, not proof read, fluff (not a warning but wtv)

Best friends to lovers.

The reader is Slytherin. Mattheo calls reader princess (just more natural for him to).

English isn't my first language so there might be mistakes xx

Summary: your boyfriend breaks up with you and mattheo riddle comforts you.

Oh and mattheo and reader have been friends since year 1 so they're like really close.

A/n: thanks for the request xx kinda lost inspo at the end lmao

If you want to request I recommend reading this xx

reblogs are appreciated xx

You knew it would happen. You knew he was going to dump you. You just didn't think it would be so fast. So, of course your shock was justified when your boyfriend broke up with you this morning for no apparent reason. He claimed "he was bored of you" and "found someone more exciting". I mean, if he was going to break up with you, he could atleast give a valid reason.

Tears flooded your eyes as the words hit you like a face slap. You ran down the hallway to the astronomy tower where you knew you'd be alone and bawled your eyes out. Alone. Or atleast you thought you were.

You heard the shuffle of footsteps behind you, wiped your eyes and turned around. And there he was towering you. Mattheo Riddle.

You looked at him with teary eyes.

"What do you want?" I say though my voice doesn't sound the least bit intimidating. Infact it quavered.

"I just want to help you. You could atleast be nice about it." He states, rolling his eyes.

You glare at him.

"I don't want your help." You say obviously lying.

He raises his eyebrow, unamused.

You roll your eyes and acquiesce in his decision. You pat next to yourself gesturing him to sit next to you.

He sits next to you, his back against the pillar like yours. He takes out a cigarette and lights it.

"and here I thought I was the depressed one." You say sarcastically.

"what, you want one princess?" He asks.

You didn't initially intend on saying yes but you do.

He opens his box.

"Shit I'm out." He says. "Here take this one." He hands you his.

"no it's fine." You reply.

"you're right, you're the one that's depressed. Take it. I don't mind. Unless you don't want to for some other reason." Mattheo states.

"i- erm fine. We could share it?" You suggest.

"yeah yeah that's fine!" Mattheo says nervously.

"sorry i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You can have that one." you blurt out.

"no it's fine don't worry just making sure you aren't uncomfortable." he smiles at you genuinely.

"he actually smiles! Like a genuine one!" You joke trying to liven up the atmosphere.

Mattheo chuckles at that.

"Only for you princess" He replies.

"So erm who made you cry?" Mattheo asks.

"Just some asshole ravenclaw."

"He sounds like a jerk."

"he is."

"What'd he do?"

"he broke up with me. Said I was boring."

Mattheo wears a shocked expression.

"first of all that bitch ravenclaw is probably more boring than any slytherin that ever existed. Second of all, you are not boring. I've known you since year 1 and somehow I am not bored of you. That bitch knew you for two seconds and was already bored. Third of all, red flag red flag red flag." Mattheo exclaimed.

I chuckle.

"oh and did I mention you are beautiful and amazing and that annoying fuck does not deserve you." Mattheo adds.

"thanks." I smile at him trying to hide the tears clouding my sight. A tear rolls down my eyes.

Mattheo reaches out to wipe it away, shortly stopping to make sure he has your consent. When he receives a nod from you in reply, he gently wipes his thumb against your cheek to remove the tear. It shouldn't give you butterflies but it did.

"don't cry princess." Mattheo hugs you and rubs circles in your waist to comfort you.

You breathe in his cologne mixed with the scent of the cigarette you two shared. You relaxed in his hold.

"how long have you been crying?" Mattheo asks like it's a normal question to ask.

"sorry?" You respond.

"you're a pretty crier." He winks at you.

"You haven't been with me one minute and you're already flirting." I tut at him jokingly.

"you don't mind it do you princess?" He asks.

You shake your head.

No you didn't mind it. Of course you didn't.

"you look better when smiling though." He says.

You smile at him.

"trying to impress me huh?" He winks at you.

"what can I say, I guess even I can't resist your charm." You play along.

"don't worry darling, nothing to be ashamed of." He smirks at you.

"don't pride yourself Riddle." You try to humble him.

"hard not to when one of the prettiest girls I know admits to not being able to resist my charm."

"you don't mean that."

"yeah I do."

"prove it."

And he does. His lips crash against yours. His lips are soft. As he pulls away, you smirk at him.

"looks like you can't resist my charm." You say pointedly.

"yeah I guess not. But is that so bad?" He asks.

No. No it wasn't. Infact it was much better than he would've known.

[xxnashiraxx]

Tuesday Snippet!

Thank you @elinorbard for tagging me!

In case anyone was expecting it, I'm not going to be able to post Chapter 13 of With Stars to Fill My Dream today- I'll have to postpone until 11/10 so I have some more time to polish it up. I've had to edit some things in the story and add some setup for future events, but I've not recovered enough from vacation to do that all this morning!

Thanks for your patience! Have this little excerpt for now! ❤

“Are you alright?” Shadowheart pokes her face into Ofelia’s tent, pale and clammy. Ofelia scrambles to wipe her tears away, nodding and meeting the half-elf’s eyes. “Yeah… I think so… did you see it too?” Shadowheart’s lips set in a firm line, nodding softly. “We all did. Here, it’s dawn… come out. Let’s all sit and talk around the fire.” Ofelia heeds Shadowheart’s suggestion, pulling her boots on and fixing her hair into a loose bun, resolving to bathe before they start the day. Officially. She hesitates, once again finding her return to her bedroll to be a mystery. The last thing she remembers is swaying in Astarion’s arms, thinking about how pretty he looked under the light of stars, music from her own world making her feel like they were in their own pocket in time, separated from the tadpole, the cult, all of it. She remembers wishing he’d been from Earth, that way she’d want to go back… And try as she might, she can’t bury these stupid feelings. Her face flushes in shame at the memory of pressing that kiss to his cheek, that pang of longing when he hadn’t shoved her away but instead gazed at her in surprise… It made forgetting that it happened ten times worse. Then she returned to her tent, somehow, a faint feeling of unease now clouding her mind. How did she get back? Did she go back alone? She can’t shake the feeling that she’s missing something important, but she can’t put her finger on what it might be… She walks out into the early dawn, stunned to find another surprise- a welcome one at that. “Scratch!” Ofelia crumples to her knees as he runs up from beyond the outskirts of their camp, the rest of her groggy companions yelping or jumping out of the way as the dog barrels into her. “Oh, I’m so glad you're safe!” She mumbles into his fur as it pokes her neck and cheek and he nearly knocks her backward. He licks her face and barks and she scratches his ears, giving him little kisses on the snout and top of his head.

No pressure tags! ❤ @pinkberrytea @khywren @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @kalmiaphlox @coyote-mint @bardic-inspo @busy-baker @nerdallwritey @ladyduellist @justabiteofspite @badbloodwitch @lanafofana @caffeinatedmunchkin +anyone else I may have forgotten!

[the-kr8tor]

Got inspo from someone's facilier hobie x shy r (i think it was 🪦 anon? but idk i forgot:( In the middle of writing I just got sent a video of a kookaburra biting a womans boob…

Daily Hobie HC! Week three, day four>:)

Hobie was described to be a charming fellow, a future reader, a psychic. Not a popular figure, but still well-known around the town.

Exhaust weighed on your shoulders as you trudge through down the alleyways, feeling as if you might fall over any moment. In the darkness, you could barely see the shadows moving along the walls, reporting to a certain someone waiting to pop out and rescue you from your misery.

One more step, and your eyes suddenly widen as Hobie smoothly walked into view, his attention shifting to you. He approached you all fluid and suave, with Hobie's fingers brushing warmly against the skin of your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

He tsked at your state, rethinking his original plan. Instead of simply persuading you to follow his path, he could possibly let you rest first. Besides, it'd be more easier knowing you had some faith in him.

Hobie internally nodded to himself at the plan, deciding to guide your sluggish body towards his shop, one hand on your shoulder and the other on his cane as he walked.

Despite the shop looking like something about to collapse from the outside, the interior looked like something out of a movie. Purple clouds shrouded the floor, swirling around both of their ankles as they walked through.

There were shelves of potions, blank dolls, pin cushions and many more little knicks and knacks for Hobe's tricks. On the table in the main area, revealed like the main character on a stage as the purple fog parted, were two chairs and a set of tarot cards in the middle.

Hobie led you into the back lounge of the shop, parting away the curtains hidden by heavy cloud. He could notice that you were very much a minute away from completely collapsing, leading him to wonder what had gotten you so drained.

His warm palms left the coldness of your back as he led you to sit on the couch. He informed you that you could rest here, and that he wouldn't be doing anything. He watched as you fumbled to take your shoes off and laid down on the comfortable couch, feeling yourself sink into the soft fabric, mumbling a 'thank you' as your eyes drooped shut.

Once you fell asleep, Hobie got up from the chair beside the couch, ruffling your hair casually and very briefly, draping a blanket on top of you before finally letting you sleep undisturbed.

You let out a tired groan, stretching your body and clutching onto the edge of the blanket, blinking away the grogginess as best as you could. Hobie blankly sat in the armchair next to the couch, sipping on a cup of tea as he looked as if he had been completely set on airplane mode.

As Hobie sensed your gaze on him, he looked back at you, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips as he practically purred good morning at you.

You thank him once more for his hospitality, stifling a yawn. Hobie simply hums in response, nodding towards your own cup of tea to wake you up. The air is filled with comfortable silence as the two of you took sips from the cups, making sure not to burn your tongue.

Hobie nonchalantly brings up the possible doing of a reading for you, before he lets you go home. Of course, you are free to decline, but his charming tone and persuasive words make it a little hard to not think about it.

Who wouldn't want to know their future anyways? After a few minutes, you slowly nod in agreeance. Once you both have finished morning tea, literally, Hobie is quick to get the two of you seated at the table you remember seeing last night, his lanky hands skillfully shuffling the cards.

In the midst of using his fancy words to try and ease your mind, he decided to add a little bit of his own charm to make you relax. Pausing his shuffling, Hobie reaches out and gently holds your hand in his, maintaining eye contact as his lips brush over your knuckles, leaving gentle kisses in his wake as he hums for you to relax.

He could tell you were beginning to ease up a little after his reassurance, resuming the shuffling of the cards once more. Once Hobie played out the cards, he told you to pick any three, the most you felt drawn to. Don't try to second-guess yourself, but go for the first thing your soul tells you to go for (if you have one, that is).

After having your future read to you, Hobie wraps up the session with sliding his card over to you, giving you the offer of coming back any time. He smiles as you thank him once again, with Hobie getting up from his seat and offering his hand to you. He pulls you up gently from your seat, walking you towards the entrance of his shop.

Before you leave, you turn to him once more, quickly taking the opportunity of closeness to leave a peck on his cheek, before hurrying off out of the alleyways and into the main street, leaving Hobie standing there with his usual smirk. Yet, his go-to suave expression faltered the moment he felt your lips pressed against his cheek, a sense of…flustered-ness? weaving itself into his expression as he froze for a moment, just staring at the spot he last saw you before you turned the corner onto the main streets. -🐦‍⬛

Oh hell yea facilier! Hobie!

A WHAT?!

Daily Hobie HC ❤️❤️❤️

Lol r was having one of those days where you're so tired that you don't care if you get murdered in an alley bc that way you could get some rest 🤣

Hobie rescued them but man that was a major red flag lmaoo r is so lucky that they didn't get picked up by a creep

I wonder what happened to r and why they're so drained 🤔 I had a feeling that they might be already dead or something

Nooo r don't drink the tea or you'll be stuck there forever---- oh wait wrong au

Wdym if you had a soul?! 🤨

I was beginning to think that the hobie might've read in R's future that he's in it hehehhehe 🤭

Okay theory: R is some kind of supernatural being!

Love this now I need to re watch princess and the frog

[thehighladywrites]

What's set as your phone's lockscreen?

Cheese or chocolate?

Do you have any nicknames?

Last song you listened to?

Have you ever written fanfiction?

Are you on discord?

Do you have any piercings?

 What do you think says the most about a person?

If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

Headphones or earbuds?

What's the last thing you said out loud?

What's a weird fact that you know?

Are you a morning person or a night owl?

Favorite place to nap?

Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

Describe yourself in three words.

Jeans or sweatpants?

What's your go-to Starbucks order?

A color you can't stand?

What's your most prized possession?

Coffee or tea?

Favorite extinct animal?

How long have you been on tumblr?

Desert island item?

Describe your aesthetic.

What's your dream job?

Relationship status?

Describe your favorite outfit.

Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

What color is your hair?

Do you talk to yourself?

Do you wear makeup?

Best compliment you ever received?

@ your favorite blog.

ohhh anon ngl this was super fun to answer, thanks for sending it to me 💜

I have a light pink basic wallpaper, nothing fancy

Chocolate, always

My friends and siblings call me Ama, amara or mara, i’m also called aisha, which is my middle name💗

Teacher’s pet bc i’m trying to get into the mood when writing professor Eris pt 3💀🤤

Yess, this is the blog I write fanfics on!!

Nope!!

I have my nips pierced, I have three piercings in each ear and a nose stud. Bro when I tell you I almost passed tf out?? I hate needles but like i love to look cunty🤷🏽‍♀️

I honestly don’t know, maybe my kindness? I’m empathetic and very emotional. The thought of making someone sad or making them feel bad makes me feel physically ill.

An oreo, basic but delicious

Cat person for sureeee, i think dogs are cute but i prefer kitties

Headphones for sure, I never leave my house without them. I really recommend them too, they’re called skullcandy hesh evo and have amazing noise cancellation

I said fuck out loud

Did you know that goats have accents? Yeah, a goat from europe won’t understand a goat from asia. My grandmother owns goats and she let me know. At first I thought she was fucking with me but it’s true.

A night owl through and through, I sleep during the days and im awake during the nights

My bed for sure, it’s so comfortable bc i have the softest blankets and a massive comforter. My mattress is super plushy and it feels like sleeping on a cloud.

I think i’m bi with a preference for women

funny as fuck, introverted, anxious

Sweatpants at home, jeans outside

I don’t drink starbucks

obnoxiously bright and strong colors

Neither, I like super sweet drinks, but gun to my head the probs coffee.

Dinosaurs, love those lil fuckers

I’ve had this blog for almost 3 months but I had my old account for about 1 year.

If i could bring one item to a deserted island, i’d bring a sharp knife.

I think hyperfeminine and dark academia. My room is super cute in my opinion and it’s a mix between pink and dark colors. My outfit inspos are rachel green, monica geller and jasmine tookes.

My dream job is being a housewife and i’m so serious. I’m not made to sit in an office or work long hours. I just wanna stay at home, bake, look cute, make a house into a home and just exist. Is it really that hard 😩

I’m happily married to my hot wife @rowaelinsdaughter i love her SO MUCH🫶🏽

My fav outfit that I repeat is this one huge white sweater paired with my black pants, I pair it with black boots and a black long coat with a scarf from acne studios

anything chase atlantic, the nbhd, ldr, melanie martinez, burna boy ik the lyrics to hella songs but by fav is probably show me how by men i trust or art deco by ldr

My hair is black, jet black

yes, I talk to myself all the time…

Yes, I wear make up all the time I love it!!

That I have a nice vibe and energy. And I was once told by my sister that i’m the one she calls first for everything bc i’m the one she wants hearing good news first. She said she trusts me the most and i nearly cried😭😭😭

Here are my fav blogs -> !!!!

[minimomoe]

UNTIL THE MORNING

Pairing: Sucubus! Toji x reader x Trueform! Sukuna

Rating: 19+ MDNI

Song Inspo: Coming Down- The Weeknd

Summary: You could’ve done something normal to break your dry spell, like going out with your friends and finding someone at the club to get laid with, but people lie. And you were sure that demons do too, but these guys had a good reputation…

Chapter One

”And how can I help you darling?” The older demon asked through a cloud of smoke. You coughed and tried to swipe it away from your face.

“Umm, I heard that I can.. choose.. a partner for a few nights?”

“Yes we have a couple who are available. Are you interested in men or women?”

“Uhh both,” you bit your lip. “But I would like a guy please.”

“Aren’t you just a sweetheart with all your manners,” the demon teased. She didn’t even look that much different from you. The main thing that gave it away was her red irises, but her teeth and skin were human-like. You didn’t notice it till later but her tail flicked lazily behind her as she pulled pictures out from a drawer to show you.

She spread the pictures out to show you underneath the glass divider. “Who catches your eye?”

Your eyes scanned over the display of men, but only one had caught your attention. The smirk dancing on his lips was intriguing and the scar on it just made him even more interesting. Your fingers tapped on his picture and the older demon nodded slowly.

“Ahh Toji. He’s rather popular with both men and women. Since he’s been working here I don’t think I’ve gotten a bad review. You’ll love him,” she said. “The rules are as follows: Incubi tests monthly and are all clean, and they’re infertile,” she winked at you and you felt your cheeks get hot. “Incubi are here to fulfill your fantasies, but they are allowed to say no and deny requests. If you disregard them we will ban you. It should go without saying that you can also report them if they go against your wishes and we will fire them here. Lastly, try not to fall in love. They are just doing their job,” she sighs. “If you come here to try to harass a worker after your time, we will ban you. Understand?”

You vigorously nodded and the old demon chuckled. “So obedient. I’m sure Toji will love that. Okay honeybun, sign here and here and let me get your payment,” she pulled out a contract for you to sign and grabbed a pen out of thin air to hand to you. You quickly signed and the demon grabbed a stamp with her tail and finished her part of the form. “Here,” she handed you a small pouch. You felt the contents inside and it reminded you of pills. You peeked inside and there were in fact three green, glowing pills.

“Take only one when you want him to visit. It would be best if you weren’t intoxicated before taking them, because then he won’t touch you and you just wasted a summon. I will say, Toji tends to be a bit hardcore. Are you sure you're okay with that?”

You nodded your head slowly until you finally found your voice. “That’s fine. Thank you.”

“Thank you for working with us. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” she smiled at you and you saw her fangs drop a little in her mouth and her eyes blink vertically.

~~

When you got home you sat on your bed with the pouch laying in front of you. You could’ve done something normal to break your dry spell, like going out with your friends and finding someone at the club to get laid with, but people lie. And you were sure that demons do too, but these guys had a good reputation. You shook one pill out you bought from the Lezabel the head demon and held it between your fingers in the light. It looked like any regular pill you’d take for allergies. You dropped it in your mouth and swallowed, then grabbed the water bottle on your nightstand to wash it down.

You waited patiently with your hands in your lap to see if anything would happen. You scanned your whole room, but nothing was there and nothing moved. You looked down into your shirt to see if the pill would glow through your body but there was still nothing. Nada. Zilch.

You fell back into your bed and turned off the bedside lamp, deciding to just call it a night. “Seems like I wasted my time,” you mumbled, then fell asleep shortly after.

Except you couldn’t really sleep. Your body was hot all over and you felt an aching pain between your legs. You tossed your head side to side before lurching forward, suddenly gasping from the sensation. You looked down and saw your legs stretched wide and a green eyed demon toying with your clit, making you buck your hips forward again and gasp.

“I already-” you started, but hissed when he pulled his lips back and gently held the bud with his teeth. He looked up at you again and winked before using his lips again, pushing two fingers inside to draw out another strangled groan from you.

“Hold onto my horns,” he ordered.

“What? You don’t have horns,” you gasped. You looked down at him quizzically but sure enough he grew horns on his head that you could wrap your hands around. You could feel him smirking inside of your thighs before putting all his attention on your dripping sex. Anytime you gyrated your hips you were sure to pull on his horns at the same time. Toji kept his tongue on your clit despite your pleas for him to slow down and added another finger to stretch you out and hit your g-spot. You tugged on his horn exceptionally hard, cursing at the way you were so close but still too far away, and he sunk his claws into your thighs. You cried out in pain and gave him a bewildered look.

“Careful on them, yeah? They're not for decoration, I can still feel through the horns.”

“Please. Please just a little, ah-” you whined out the rest of your sentence because he was already back to work, moving your legs to sit on his shoulders and lifting your hips completely off the bed to hold you closer to his chest. You couldn’t continue to hold onto his horns in this new position, but you couldn't see much of anything. Your eyes were losing focus and you squeezed them shut as he continued to torment you with his tongue that was much longer than anything you have ever felt. He had you in a very vulnerable position, with his knees under your back and his arms wrapped around your waist to hold you better. You rested on your forearms to watch him before dropping back down, flailing your legs around his head as you released broken moans.

“I’m so close. Please just hurry,” you moaned. Toji grunted in response and began to fuck you with his tongue with a speed that made you forget how to speak . You tried to pull away but he followed your hips back on the bed, never letting up until you had tears in your eyes. Your legs shook violently while your orgasm slammed into you. Toji continued to abuse your clit, sucking on it harshly as he watched you squirm and beg for him to stop. He reached out to squeeze your breast and tease your buds with his talons to prolong your orgasm. You were left breathless and gasping when Toji finally decided to stop tormenting you. Your legs still had tremors running through them as he looked down at your legs to see the handprints that were already forming.

You looked up at him and he used the back of his hand to clean up the glossy bottom half of his face. You made a feeble attempt to rest on your forearms again but failed.

“So I’m guessing you’re Toji,” you huffed. “How many other demons do you know? Lezabel said it looked like this was your first time asking for our service.” “It is. I just wasn’t expecting it to be that good. Thank you.”

“Thank you?” He cocked his head to the side. “You talk like we’re finished,” he tutted and grabbed your ankles to pull you closer.

He laid kisses on the softness of your stomach, then trailed up to your chest, using his hand to lift up your shirt and expose more skin. He saw your hardening nipples and your attempt to have him touch them, but he promptly ignored the signal and continued to kiss up your sternum. He dragged his tongue up your throat, pausing when he reached a prominent vein that made your breath hitch, before whispering your ear.

“Why are you still wearing clothes?”

“You tore off my shorts and panties, right? I’m sure you can do the rest.”

“Maybe Lezabel lied to me. She said that you had manners,” he growled and deftly tore your shirt apart.

You gasped at your shredded clothing but didn’t have enough time to comment on it as he scraped one nipple with his claws and the other was inside his mouth. He pinched and pulled the bud harshly, looking up at you to see your face contorted from the sensation. He sprung out his nails to hold your breast and you cried out from the pain. Tears streamed down your face and he removed himself from your nipple to lick the salt from under your eyes.

“Such a crybaby,” he teased, but he went down to the wound and licked it sweetly until it healed, like he never did anything in the first place.

“Do you want me to stop?”

You paused before answering. Nothing he did was adversely bad, but you were sure that you were already insane for summoning an incubus in the first place.

“No,” you whispered, and his face broke into a wide grin.

“I knew you’d be fun. Come here, pretty human.”

He pulled you up by one arm until you were straddling his lap, the heat of his dick almost burning your skin as it stood in between you.

“Go ahead. Touch it.”

You poked it with your pointer finger and Toji gave you an unamused look. His claws stung your hips as he tightened his grips and you sighed, then grabbed his dick with one hand firmly. There wasn’t that much light in your room, just the faint moonlight that was shrouded by clouds, but from what you could see and feel, it wasn’t the same compared to the human ones you’ve seen, but it only added to the excitement you were feeling.

You stroked it slowly, relishing the way it pulsed in your hand, but when you looked up Toji was looking up at you.

“Do you like it the way it is? I can make it. I can add more ribs to it, make it longer, or girthier. I can even make two if you’re into that.“ he ran his hands on the back of your thighs and you tried to focus on the questions he was asking.

“Two? No thanks,” you snorted.

“Are you laughing?”

“Maybe. I’ll keep this model, please.”

“You can’t act sweet now,” he grumbled, lifting you up to line up with your sex. His head grazed against your clit and you shivered. “There’s nothing here to laugh at.”

“I’m not laughing anymore,” you gasped, slowly lowering yourself on his dick. You tried to steady yourselves by resting your hands on his shoulders but he pulled them off and held it behind your back. You feel something wrap around your arms, making it impossible for you to pull them apart.

“Whaa-” you questioned but Toji’s arm were back on your waist and he slammed you down on his dick, knocking out the words you had in your mouth. He also had a tail that was similar to Lezabel’s, except it was much thicker and prehensile, which meant he could do more with his hands with yours out of the way.

“You don’t get to touch me,” he growled beneath you. He nipped and bit your chest that was bouncing in front of him. Every time his fangs grazed against your skin you let out a low hiss that made him drag you against his length faster. Your head fell backwards and you looked up to the ceiling, your vision blurring around the edges from tears forming but Toji didn’t like that. He grabbed your face with one hand and forced you to maintain eye contact with him.

“Eyes on me, pretty,” he purred. He enjoyed the dazed look on your face.

“K-kiss. Kiss me.”

“Why should I?”

“Please?”

“Beg harder.”

You choked back sob and tried to match your hip movements with his, but it’s too much. The biting, the scratching, the grunting, the way he has his thumb on your clit and a wicked smile on his face, all of it is sending your brain into overdrive. You cry out and whine into his ear.

“Please! Please Toji, please kiss me. I’m not asking for much. I just wa-“

“You talk too much,” he smirked before putting two fingers in your mouth, pulling your tongue out and spitting on it, then finally kissing you as wished.

The kiss was just as sinful as what he was doing to the rest of your body, and you began to feel lightheaded from his tongue against yours. You tried to pull back but the hand around your neck kept you in place until Toji had his fill.

“I guess I should’ve mentioned this earlier, but my saliva also acts like an aphrodisiac, but maybe you already knew that. You did beg for it after all,” he grinned.

You could only look at Toji’s lips and attack them again. All your senses were heightened and oversentive, pushing you over the edge much faster than ever before. You could feel his fangs tug at your bottom lip before biting down to hear you cry again. You easily had the prettiest voice he's ever heard, and he was dying to hear it more.

A metallic taste coated your mouth and you trembled over Toji, your orgasm cresting over you and he watched you closely. He licked the light sheen of sweat coating your neck and savored the way you pulsed around him, massaging your clit with his thumb to keep you shaking. Toji then laid you on your back before flipping you over to prepare you for another round. You moaned into your pillow as he ran his hands over your ass and spread it wide.

“This is an all night service, pretty girl. I’ll leave when you tap out or the sun starts to shine. Whichever comes first.”

~~

You woke up with a deep ache in all of your joints as if you removed them from their sockets and put them back with a hammer. You vaguely remembered what happened, but when you did you threw your covers off of your body and tried to assess the damage, except there was none. Every bite, scratch, and mark left by the green eyed demon had disappeared. Broken bits of the night before flooded into your mind, and your face felt hot when recounting the positions he stretched you in with his hands and tail.

You looked over to your bed stand and saw that the pouch was still there, except this time his name was etched into the fabric. You picked it up and giggled to yourself, already planning your second use.

Part Two here >>>

[greenorangevioletgrass]

sure as hell not jesus (but you're saving me) - b.w.

Masterlist | Ko-fi

pairing: bruce wayne x reader

summary: you and bruce learn to save and comfort each other in your own unique ways.

word count: 1,845

warnings: developing relationship, bruce is secretly a softie, reader helps him remove his makeup, savior complex galore, angst, fluff, smut (unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms)

notes: the brainrot is real y'all i finished this in a day! big thanks to @inklore @summertimestyles @cumholland @sersi-belovas for putting up with my pestering questions and providing me with mad inspo! follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it!

***

As a long-time resident of Gotham, waking up to the pouring rain has almost become the norm. Even with the curtains left drawn, the orange daybreak is muted behind the clouds. You’d register the pitter-patter outside your window even when you’re mostly asleep and pay it no mind.

But sometimes, you’d hear another pitter-patter– this time from inside the house. The torrent of water hitting your bathroom tiles, and the unmistakable squeak of your shower tap as it turns to a close.

This one’s relatively new.

Through still-heavy lids, you watch Bruce come out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped low around his hips. His dark hair is still dripping, pushed back even though a couple strands stubbornly fall in front of his face as he makes his way to your dressing table.

You catch his gaze through the mirror, soft –apologetic, almost– and it draws you closer to him. “Morning,” you rasp out quietly.

Your fingertips find his shoulder, tension rippling through his lean muscles. Rubbing circles, hoping your restful calm rubs off on him. However miniscule the effect.

“Sorry I woke you,” he murmurs, although secretly content with your touch, if the way he pulls you into his lap is any indication.

“It’s okay. I need to get up anyway.”

“Oh.” There’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, like he’s hoping to join you in bed. It’s adorable, really. You always tease him about looking young and old at the same time. The puppy dog stare gives a boyish air about him, but his permanent frown makes him look like he’s lived a life ten times over. And the dark stains around his eyes…

It’s like traces of camouflage.

He doesn’t need that here. Not anymore. Not with you.

You stroke his cheek briefly. “Come here, let me clean you up.”

He shifts in protest. “You don’t have to–”

“I know I don’t,” you quip back, amused, reaching out for a pack of cotton pads and makeup remover from your dressing table. “Just sit back. You missed a few spots.”

Bruce lets out a long sigh, but he concedes. He settles underneath you, his calloused hands resting on your thighs, absently fiddling with the hem of the ratty gray sweater you nicked from him when he first slept over six weeks ago. It’s strangely mundane, and neither of you are quite used to it. He would never admit it, but there’s a little glint when he watches you work the soaked cotton against the remnants of black paint around his eyes. It looks a lot like fondness, or dare you say… affection?

Ha. Bruce Wayne showing affection. That’ll be the day.

“What?” his gravelly voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

“Nothing.” you eye him cheekily, wiping the smudge off from under his eye with featherlight touch. “You, uh, smell like my shampoo.”

“I… yeah, sorry. I just–”

“Don’t be. I think it’s kind of cute,” you admit with a light smile.

He doesn’t say anything, but the slightest tinge of pink spreads all over his face and neck, all the way up to his ears, and you’re fighting the urge not to tease him further. The poor man might just combust. It’s definitely cute.

“Look up.” you tilt his chin up with your forefinger, and he obliges.

You lean in closer to his face, making careful, precise swipes on his lower waterline. His eyelids flutter in discomfort, and you can’t help but chuckle. He takes on crime after crime every night without so much of a complaint, and yet a little micellar water might be the death of him yet.

“Hold still, I’m almost done…” you stroke his jawline softly, sensing his growing impatience.

You notice his Adam’s apple bobbing when you shift his face slightly to the side to cleanse the other eye. His hands trail under your clothes, tracing the waistband of your panties from your hip to your lower back. Neither of you possess superhuman abilities, but you can feel the racing heart rate emanating from his bare chest. And you’re damn sure he can sense yours, too.

There’s a dark mark under his eye that doesn’t go away, and it takes you a second to realize it’s just the exhaustion seeping through. “When was the last time you slept?”

“When was the last time I came here?” he replies evenly.

You pause, recounting the days since he woke you up in a similar fashion; one, two… “Jesus Christ, Bruce,” you sigh, stopping dead in your tracks.

He caresses your back in a desperate attempt to soothe your panic. “I’m fine, I’ve just been really busy–”

“Are you, really?” you search his eyes, and you can see how his half-assed excuse is barely concealed, if at all. Your voice drops to a whisper, hoping it’ll have a better chance of coming through to him. “Bruce. What’s going on?”

But instead, he rests his forehead against yours. His nose nuzzling yours, inching closer and closer to you, kissing you –tentatively at first. Chaste and brief. Like he’s waiting for you to let him in.

As if he hasn’t knocked down your entire walls already.

For every kiss, you return it with twice the intensity– burying your hand in his hair, gripping it selfishly as you deepen the kiss. He tastes like your toothpaste, although the way his tongue devours and his lips encapture you is unmistakably his own. His familiar, broken embrace is enshrouded in your scent; your soap, your shampoo, your whole presence. It almost feels like…

He’s yours entirely.

And the thing is, you’re fiercely protective of what’s yours. Maybe not in the way Bruce is, where he would come out bloodied and bruised, burning bridges in a city on fire. No. Your way is more tender. Caring. That’s why it kills you a little bit every time you see a new bruise. A new cut. Whatever new symptom he’s experiencing in his obsession for the kind of justice you don’t understand. But when he comes home to you; armor laid out on the floor, desperately kissing down your neck, groping underneath your clothes, holding you close like a wordless call for help… you accept your million little deaths anyway.

“Fuck. I need…” his calluses catch on the worn fabric of the sweater you’re wearing. He doesn’t finish his sentence –not verbally– he just tugs it over your head and tosses it aside. The pads of his fingers are rough against your sensitive nipples, ever so selfishly. And it’s not long until his mouth joins in the craving of comfort your body brings him.

It leaves a sick twist in your gut sometimes, knowing that his pain also brings you so much pleasure. It keeps him up for nights on end, and you get to take advantage of his manic episodes in your bed? How could you possibly live with that?

But he reaches between your legs, smearing his own digits with your arousal, touching you like it makes him feel good, and you rationalize the whole thing. It’s not his pain that pleases you— it’s his remedy that coincides with your own bliss. So you let him have it.

You brush his hand away and settle at the head of his cock, sinking down slow. The delicious pain of his girth spreading you open is always overwhelming at first, but he holds you close, cradles the back of your neck through it all. Drawing deep, slow breaths with you as you take all of him inside you.

He pulls you in for a hungry kiss, hips arching up into you as if he needs to be closer to you. However bound together you think you already are, he needs more. He yearns for that peace so painfully, and you’re oh so willing to lift yourself up and fall on his sword time and time again for him. Your ache, his groans, his grasp…

It makes you feel alive.

He claws at your back, arching up to meet your hips halfway, and you can feel him edging closer to his orgasm. He feels so nice and full and it takes you everything to say,

“It’s okay, I got you.”

But he shakes his head, nipping at your neck instead. The hand on your waist finds its way to the swollen nub between your legs again. You really shouldn’t be surprised; Bruce is nothing if not stubborn. And right now, your brain is too hazy to argue with him. Chivalry be damned. Amidst your erratic pace and the building fervor in your cunt, you give into the desire.

“It’s okay. I got you,” he echoes your words back to you, and you let it wash over you. The pleasure, pulsing and spreading to every inch of your body, gripping him like he’ll scatter away if you don’t.

Far from it.

He carries you to bed, not pulling out of you for a brief second until you’re laid out on the mattress. Thrusting in and out of you with all that’s left of him. Fucking you like his whole repentance depends on it, obliviously unaware that you’d give him that ten times over. He floods your senses, floating higher and higher towards another orgasm, but you almost don’t want to get there without him.

“Bruce… shit, I’m so close—” you choke out.

Ever so stubborn, he shakes his head still. “One more. Just one more. Please.” He is everywhere now; mouth latching on your tits, hands strumming your clit, cock pounding in and out of you.

Your second orgasm takes you violently, sending you convulsing around him. And it doesn’t stop. It just keeps going, fluttering tight around his hard length. He hits your spot, again and again until it hurts, and yet you don’t want him to stop. Maybe it’s not so sick to find pleasure in pain, after all.

Your name falls out of his lips, more obscene than anything you’ve ever heard. And there he is; pulsing and spurting deep inside you. Finally able to catch his breath, as if he’s been deprived of it. Just like he’s been deprived of sleep in the last few days.

You kiss him softly, cupping his face with one hand. And for the longest time, it’s all you do. He falls into the empty spot next to you, but he still finds himself tethered to your embrace.

“I should get out of your hair.” he murmurs into your lips, although he makes no effort to move.

“No, stay.” you smooth out his hair, twirling random strands that frame his face. “I’ll just be out for an hour or two, but you go ahead and rest, okay? I’ll… bring some bagels or something.”

You can see his eyelids growing heavy, slowly lulled into sleep, and you’ve never seen him so at ease in your life.

And who can blame you for wanting to keep this fantasy alive, even for just five minutes? Both equally damaged and fucked, finding solace in each other. It's not much, but it's more than enough.

[goldenbuckyyy]

THE ONE

Summary: Three years later, Harry sees you again.

Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader (exs)

Word Count: 3.7kish

Warnings: None. Maybe ambiguous ending?

A/N: Here’s the final part for my power mini series. 🥺 I was honestly debating on how I should end this one. I was going to go a different route for this ending, but I just couldn’t see the reader doing that. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for taking this journey with me. 🫶🏻 Song inspo: “The 1” by Taylor Swift.

Also thank you for 900 followers. 🥹🫶🏻 Thank you all for showing me so much love!! 💓

All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions.

Series Masterlist || Masterlist

Harry always wondered why he let himself make the choices he had made all those years ago. 

He tells himself he was weak. He was too young to know any better. But in all honesty, he was an idiot. He was too dumb to see what he had right in front of him.

And it’s a mistake he has been paying for since the day it happened. 

He had made a mistake the minute he had let Olivia kiss him. 

He often wonders what was going through his mind when he allowed himself to let her lips touch his. He remembers being hesitant, but he also remembers not pulling away.

It wasn't because he was infatuated with her. She didn’t have anything he wanted or needed. He was a millionaire already. A household name. And his celebrity status was only growing by day. 

He didn’t need more fame. He was good with his money. He didn’t need Olivia’s name tied to his. He already had yours tied to his. A wonderful actress and a name most people already knew. 

Not because of him. You were just known because you were that good. 

It was lust. 

Lust for another woman. Someone other than the love of his life. 

Lust because of the way Olivia’s green eyes always followed his every move. The way she’d invite him to her trailer to help him rehearse when you weren’t on set and the sneaky touches she’d do to get his attention. 

Harry tried to resist her. Did his best. But he fell weak to his sins and let her kiss him that one night. 

And it was downhill from there. 

He let his lust for Olivia cloud his judgement and he lost the love of his life because of it. 

And now… five years later, he’s still with her. Trying to make it work, but not seeing a future with her. But not wanting to leave her because if he leaves her, everything that he did was for nothing. 

All the pain he caused you was for nothing if Olivia and him break up. It’ll be a slap to the face. 

And he doesn’t think he’s brave or strong enough for that. 

Harry sighs as he twirls his iced vanilla latte in front of him. 

He was sitting in an empty cafe, but a cafe that you love. Or used to love. He didn’t know anymore. 

He was home in London for business, away from Olivia, and he needed to clear his mind. He felt lost within himself and wasn’t too sure what to do anymore. 

He felt unfulfilled, distracted, and unhappy. 

He was almost thirty-two years old and felt empty. His shoulders are sagging as he feels the weight of the world on them. He gulps down the dryness he feels as his thoughts seem to overtake him and proceeds to sip on his coffee. 

He hears the door ring as someone walks into the small cafe. He lets his curiosity take over and peers up to look up at the stranger. 

It was barely seven am and the cafe was nearly empty. He wondered who the other morning bird was. Or a night owl. Depending on the way you looked at it. 

He stilled in his seat when he recognized who the stranger was. 

It was you. 

The last time he had seen you was three years ago at the Venice film festival where the night ended in a nightmare. He had spoken to you after that profusely apologizing for the events he caused, but you only listened to him to please him and told him to take care after his rant. 

He stopped bothering you after that. He didn’t want to be that person in your life anymore. So he stopped. He knew he had to let you go and it killed him. But he wanted you to be happy. 

But looking at you right now as you walked in, he still felt that feeling he hadn’t felt in years. He felt heat rush to his face as he watched you, his heart accelerating, and the smile that wanted to break out on his face making his lips twitch. 

He watched you as you walked in, holding your nude colored scarf close to your face to keep the cold December chill away from your face, your cheeks flushed with the cold air either way, and your entire body was covered by a darker nude colored oversized coat. 

You walked up to the counter, giving the barista your biggest warmest smile, throwing your hair back, and fetching your wallet from your bag. 

Your hair fell down your back and it was the longest he’s ever seen you have it. He let his eyes follow your every movement and it’s as if you felt him watching you. Because once you paid, your eyes found him, eyes locking together, and your smile didn’t falter. Your eyebrows crinkled together as your expression was shocked as if you couldn’t believe he was really in the same cafe as you. 

Harry wasn’t sure what to do. Should he stand up to greet you? Should he just wave and smile? Should he just look away and pretend he wasn’t just caught staring at you? 

He didn’t have much time to weigh his options because you were walking towards him already. He watched you as you walked towards him. Walking tall with your shoulders straight, and filled with confidence. You were glowing. 

He stood up quickly when you reached him. 

“Harry!” You exclaimed as you surprisingly wrapped your arms around him, pulling his entire body down towards you, pressing your cheek against his as you hugged him tightly against you, and Harry almost melted in your arms. His senses are filled with warm scents of your favorite perfume. 

Harry wrapped his arms around you and when you pulled away, he wished the hug hadn’t ended so soon. He was still in shock. He looks down at the woman he once called the love of his life and wonders if you are still the same person as before. 

You hold onto his arms as you look him up and down, “I can’t believe you’re in London right now! In this cafe! Wow!” You exclaim with a big smile as you look at where he was sitting. 

“Is this seat taken?” You ask as you gesture to the empty seat in front of him. 

Harry snaps himself out of his daze, quickly shaking his head, and gesturing for you to sit down. You adjust yourself into the seat, placing your bag on the back of it, and tugging off your scarf. 

Harry goes back to his seat, fumbling as he sits down, and watches you with a small smile. 

“You look amazing,” Harry says to you and you smile at him. 

“Thank you,” you say, fixing your coat around your body, and smiling at the barista who brings you your order. 

You place the big chocolate croissant in the middle of the table, parting it in your hands, and start to eat. Harry doesn’t miss the pretty ring on your ring finger, but he doesn’t allow himself to focus too much on it. His heart was tightening slightly. 

“You can have the other half,” you say casually as you chew your half. He hesitantly gets the other half, “Thank you,” he says as he munches on it. Thinking about what he should say. He doesn’t want it to be awkward, but he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. 

“How have you been?” You ask him, sipping on your iced drink. 

Harry wipes his lips with a napkin, “I’ve been good. Needed to come to London for some business, but I’m heading back to LA at the end of the week.” 

“How fun! I assume congratulations are in order for your latest win,” you say with a cheeky smile and Harry blushes at your comment as he picks at the skin around his fingers. He wonders how you know.

Do you keep tabs on him like he does on you?

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you,” Harry says shyly at your compliment, his entire body showing how flattered he was.

“Don’t be coy with me,” you tease, “It’s another wonderful accomplishment. You should be proud.”

Harry sits up straighter at your words, “I am. I am, thank you. How have you been? I saw your latest film. You did wonderful, as always.” 

You play him off with a wave, “Oh shush.” You smile at him as you open your coat, opening it up to reveal your cream colored oversized sweater, and cross your legs under the table. 

You take a second to look at his face, your heart races underneath your chest, and you see how different he looks from the last time you saw him. 

His beautiful chocolate curly hair was long again, piled up on the top of his head in a messy bun, a couple loose curls fell down framing his face, and his dimples were caving into cheeks with his shy smiles he was giving you. You secretly wondered why he had decided to grow out his hair again, but you continued to sip on your drink as you watched him. 

The conversation between you two flowed easily, almost never feeling awkward, and you both feel thankful for it. 

Harry could see from behind you the people passing by, taking their photos of him and you, and the internal anger he felt because of it never left him. He always hated that people tried to get the best photo of him whenever it got leaked where he was. And now that he was here with you? For the first time since the break up, since the messy Venice film festival drama that neither of you commented on, and now you’re both enjoying a drink together. He wonders how much the highest bidder will get paid. 

The conversation never leads to Olivia nor Sebastian. Harry knows you’re still with him, but as to only what he sees on social media. But he’s too much of a coward to ask you about it. 

It isn’t until Harry opens his stupid mouth and word vomits all over you. 

“I need to tell you something,” he abruptly exclaims, which makes your laughing stifle, and you nod at him to continue. Your hands clasping together on the top of the table to stop yourself from fidgeting.

“I want to tell you that.. seeing you right now, in front of me, makes me feel indescribable. I haven’t seen you in over three years and you’re still the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.” 

“Harry,” you start to say, eyes softening with sadness, and your lips frowning. 

“I have to say this, please.” He begs you, you frown, and nod for him to continue. 

“I want to thank you for loving me all those years ago,” he whispers, voice low, and almost as if he doesn’t believe he’s saying these words out loud.

“You loved me in a way that I have never been loved before. Never. Not by Camille, not by Kendall, not Taylor, and not even bloody Olivia. Okay?” His voice wavers and the way you’re looking at him right now makes his eyes swell up with tears. He takes a second to compose himself, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep his tears at bay, and he pushes away a couple strands of loose curls from his face. 

“You loved me with purity and honesty. You-you loved me with such force and passion… that I’ve been searching for that feeling for years since I left you. Nothing—and I swear to you— nothing has been able to fill the void you left in me. And that’s my mistake. And mine only.” 

His eyes are staring into yours, threatening tears in both eyes, and your nose is turning into that shade that shows him you want to cry. He silently curses because he doesn’t want to make you cry. But he knows this might be his only chance to tell you how he’s felt the past couple of years. Truthfully and honestly. 

Harry reaches for your palm that’s laying on the table top, the oval ring resting on your ring finger like gold, hesitantly he grasps your hand gently in his, and you let him. A rush of warmth runs through both of your bodies, but you both don’t show it. You bite the inside of your cheek to try and keep your emotions at bay.

You furr your eyebrows down as you wait for him to speak again. You raise your eyes to meet his own once again. Beautiful green eyes rimmed red.

Harry takes in a shaky breath, letting himself try to relax as he tries to not melt at the way his body feels touching your skin again, and he tilts his head as he watches you. 

Watches the woman that still looks at him with love in her eyes, the one that makes his heart skip a beat, the one who’s smile never fails to light up a room, the one who can make an entire crowd laugh until they cry, and who’s name is still engraved on his heart and soul. 

Your eyelashes flutter as you give him a small nod. Waiting for him to continue. 

“I made the biggest mistake of my life when I did what I did to you. I won’t recount all my wrongs, but you know them better than anyone else. I especially— especially regret,” he pauses slightly, “what I did to you at the after party of our movie.” He says the last part in a whisper. He’s ashamed of what he did. He felt ashamed for forcing himself on you that night. And ashamed for the lasting scars he made on you at that moment. 

“I know you may never forgive me— shit, I wouldn’t forgive me. But—“ Harry’s cut off by your words, “I forgive you.” 

Harry’s mouth parts open in shock at your words, his expression turns into sorrow, and he immediately looks down. He feels his tears covering his eyelashes as his lips tremble. Not fully believing the heart of gold of the woman in front of him. 

He feels you squeeze his hand in yours and he looks up at you. Red rimmed eyes and pouty lips. 

You look the same except your face is nothing but sincere. You nod at him with a smile. 

“It has taken me a long time to fully understand the events that transpired that night. I couldn’t believe it had happened for so long. Many long nights I spent wondering where we had gone wrong. Many that I spent cursing Olivia’s name. Cursing your name. Cursing my own,” you let out a sigh, “But.. everything happens for a reason. And whatever may that reason be… it’s the reason why all the events between us happened. We may never truly understand why we made the decisions we did… I may never understand why you did what you did.. but it happened. And I can’t hold onto the past any longer. I held on for so long— so so long.” 

Your eyes glisten as you watch Harry. 

“We can sit here all day long. Staring at each other and wondering about all the what ifs. We can even talk about it. But it won’t change anything. It won’t change what happened or has happened since. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m a completely different person from when we were together. Just how I know you are. We’re not the same people we fell in love with.” 

Harry can bet a million dollars that isn’t true. You’re the same woman he fell in love with. But he won’t say that. 

He lets you continue, his thumb brushing against your warm skin as he used to also do. 

“We can sit here and pretend that we weren’t madly in love not so long ago. So in love that we didn’t care what people said and we did so without shame.” 

Harry closes his eyes as he tries to memorize your face in his mind before this ends. 

Your soft voice continues, “I miss you.” Your voice almost cracks at the words, but compose yourself quickly. You clear your throat with a cough.

Harry’s eyes open in surprise, deep regret written all over his face, and he opens his mouth to speak. But you hold your hand up to stop him. 

“I miss you in a way that I would miss an ex best friend. I miss our talks. I miss the way you never judged me. You never bullshitted me. You’d always tell me what you were thinking and I never had to second guess you. We were perfect together. But life happens. Mistakes were made and now…” 

You lean forward, gripping his hand in yours tightly, and lean your face against your enclosed hands. He does the same, soft tears falling down his cheeks, and you can feel your own cheeks wet. 

Harry feels as if he’s about to have a breakdown with the emotions he’s feeling right now. He feels overwhelmed. 

“Now I’m happy. I’m finally happy again. And I can't— I can't let you back in. I can't even let you be my friend. Sebastian wouldn’t have it. Because,” you pause and hesitantly continue in a whisper, “a part of me will always be in love with you. And if you’re in my life… I will never get over you. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed.” 

Harry cries at your words, his shoulder slumping down, and body shaking slightly with his tears. 

“If you’re not happy with Olivia,” you start saying and Harry looks at you with surprise, “Leave her. You deserve to be happy. So insanely happy that you can’t even believe it.” You squeeze his hands in yours. 

Harry nods at your words, knowing they’re true, eyes glistening, and your palm cups his cheek slightly. 

His face instantly melts in your palm, “I want you to know that there will always be a piece of you in me.” 

“Always,” you both say at the same time with a small smile. 

“I don’t deserve your time right now,” Harry whispers, eyes soft with sadness. 

“You deserve the world. We all make mistakes. Some are worse than others, but it happens.” 

Harry nods at your words and he knows it’s time to say goodbye. Not knowing if it’s forever or not. But knowing it’s the right thing to do. 

“I should let you go. Let you get back to him.”

You agree with a hum, gathering your belongings, and standing up as he does the same. 

Harry is the first to pull you into a hug, wrapping his arms over your shoulders, holding you tightly against his body, and your arms wrap around his waist. Your head on his chest and Harry feels something against his waist. A small protruding belly. 

Harry pulls away from the hug, looking down in confusion between your bodies, and sees for the first time your belly. 

His jaw slacks down, mouth parting open in shock, and he wonders how he hadn’t noticed earlier. 

He looks up at you with a confused face, “You’re…” He can’t even ask the question. The words he was going to ask were getting stuck in his throat. 

You beam up at him, pretty eyes twinkling, “I am.” 

“Wow,” he breathes out, heart breaking a little bit, and he can only smile. 

“Congratulations, you must be so excited. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, B-Harry. I am,” you repeat with a smile and you reach up to kiss his cheek gently, his cheeks tint pink. Harry doesn’t catch the name you were about to call him. 

“I’ll see you later,” you say, pinching his cheek slightly with a smile, and you both watch each other for a moment. Taking it in together. Both eyes taking in every inch of each other. 

You walk away from him after squeezing his hand once more. Once you reach the cafe door, taking one final glance behind you, looking at Harry, and you smile at him. You wave your hand goodbye slowly and Harry waves back with a deep inhale to try to calm his nerves. 

It kills him to see you walk away from him. 

He watches you from the window. Watches your hand go to your lower belly on instinct. Carrying a child that isn’t his. Will never be his. And he knows you're happy. 

He can see it in the way you walk, the way you’re dressed, and by simply the way you are carrying yourself right in front of him. 

It’s the way he could see it when you were sitting in front of him mere minutes ago. With a smile on your face. The soft smile you had reserved for him. He didn’t know if that was still the case. But deep down, he wished it was. 

He could see it in the way your cheeks blushed pink by his compliments, but that’s all it was to you. A compliment from a man. That’s all.

He wasn’t the love of your life anymore. 

He was just the man you used to love. A man you used to be in love with. A man you used to picture your life with. 

And it killed him inside that you were now living a life he wasn’t familiar with. 

He didn’t know what your favorite color was anymore. Your favorite food. Your favorite movie. Your favorite memory. Your favorite snack. He didn't know any of that anymore. 

It makes his soul ache in a deep part of his body. He feels his lips tremble slightly as he keeps his eyes on you. He knows he looks pathetic. With that sad look on his face as he watches the only person he’s ever truly loved walk away. 

But… 

There’s always a bigger piece in him that feels at peace knowing you’re happy. 

That even though he didn’t end up being the man you married and had children with… that you were still living the life you both had planned once upon a time. 

Even if it’s without each other. 

Harry can only hope he is lucky enough to have the same ending one day.

He just wishes it was with you.