#if youre confident in who you are you are not this restless

[watermelonlovershigh]

A Shift Occurs {part 4.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: excited to be putting out a smutty fic since i haven't in a while. i hope you enjoy part 4. feel free to help put inspo into this series by sending me things you'd like to see happen in this story. remember to reblog and leave your feedback. enjoy!!!

This story contains: fluff, smut, handjob and male receiving oral, talks of using vibrator

{ housemate!harry - softrry - friend!harry - au harry - harry's occupation is a teacher }

word count- 2,373

Your friendship is progressing quicker than anticipated and when Harry wakes up with morning wood, you decide to help his situation out.

It's been three days since the mutual confessions of your feelings and to be completely honest, there has been little change as far as how the two of you interact. Apart from the absence of casual encounters, daily routines within the house remain unchanged from the time when you were merely housemates and just friends. But, you have noticed some subtle differences.

On Saturday night, you followed your usual routine. As the clock struck seven, you opted for Chinese take-out and settled on the couch to watch a movie. Eventually fatigue overcame you and you made the choice to call it a night. Although you had shared a bed earlier in the day during the morning nap, you believed that spending an entire night together would be rushing things, so you decided to go your separate ways.

However, following an hour of restlessness, Harry reached a point where he could no longer bear it. He rose from his bed and made his way across the hallway to your room. Being polite, he softly tapped on the door and upon hearing the invitation, "Come in," he cautiously entered. The room was dimly lit, but the moonlight filtering through the window provided just enough illumination for him to see your confused silhouette.

Curiously, you questioned, "Har... what are you doing?" while observing Harry confidently approaching your unoccupied side of the bed, dressed in only a pair of black boxer briefs. Without seeking consent, he smoothly pulled back the duvet and comfortably nestled himself beside you.

"Couldn't sleep." Harry answered before continuing, "Ever since this mornin' where we took that nap together and cuddled, I realized just how much I love sharing a bed and cuddlin' with someone. Hope this was alright."

Looking over at him as he got settled under the blankets, you replied, "Yeah, it's fine. Just thought you wanted to take this whole thing slow s'all."

"Y/n, when I said we should take our relationship slow, I meant sex. Sharing a bed and cuddlin' doesn't have to equal sex. It's purely platonic." At Harry's words, you had mixed emotions. Yes you agreed in wanting to take your progressive friendship at a slow pace but on the other hand, you also want to jump his bones every time you look into his grassy green eyes.

Since Harry was the one to take the brave step in coming into your bedroom, you made the brave step in sliding over until your body was right next to his. Quietly, you asked, "Big spoon or little spoon?"

Shyly giggling, Harry answered, "Little spoon."

"Okay, turn on your side for me." He did as told and you tightly wrapped your body around his back and hugged him to your chest. Just like Harry, you're a big cuddler too. Hence why most of the time you allowed your one-night stands to sleep over. Just to have a cuddle partner throughout the night.

The restlessness Harry had at the start of the night was now gone as you spooned him and sleep followed shortly after.

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

Every night since Saturday night you've shared a bed together. Either you sleep in Harry's bed or he sleeps in yours. It's become routine at this point and you both find comfort in sleeping together. Nothing more has happened in your developing relationship. Besides the accidently touch of your clothed boobs or the time your knee accidently grazed Harry's covered cock sometime throughout the night.

On the following Sunday morning though, a shift occurs. As you awaken, you find yourself nestled in Harry's bed, with his body curled around yours. The gentle exhalations of his warm breath brush against your neck, while his chest presses against your back. However, amidst this intimate embrace, you also become aware of another sensation. Something is prodding against your ass. You aren't oblivious to its nature, yet you find yourself uncertain about how to go about this situation.

It's a dilemma whether to ignore Harry's morning boner or to assist his problem in order to potentially advance your relationship. You don't want to make him feel uncomfortable, but also ponder if his desire to take things slow is actually for your benefit. Perhaps Harry is being cautious for your sake, and he might be ready to take your friendship to the next level.

Allowing desire to take over your judgement, you slowly back your bum up against his hardened cock and subtly move your hips, hoping the feeling gives him some sort of relief. Approximately thirty seconds go by before you hear a deep grunt coming from behind you. Then suddenly you feel Harry's body jump back until you're no longer touching one another.

You decide to turn around so you're facing his direction and once you get a good look at him, you see his large hand covering his face in what you presume is embarrassment. "Um, sorry 'bout that." Harry mummers aloud. He has no control over getting an erection in his sleep and the fact it happened while spooning you, it's so embarrassing for you to witness.

"Hey," you coo softly, scooting closer to his body, "you don't need to be embarrassed. It happens and it's natural. You know, I don't mind helping you out if you want."

Harry finally takes his hand away from his face and turns his head to look at you. "Y/n, what about the takin' it slow thing?"

"Harry, you also shared the importance of things moving naturally and I'd say they are. If things naturally progress fast then we should allow it instead of ignoring it. I don't mind helping your problem out. Know you must be aching." Once you're finished speaking, you place your hand on his bare belly and teasingly drag your fingers lower and lower. "Only if you're comfortable with that idea."

His longing for your touch surpasses everything else and he nods, uttering, "Um, yeah. If you want, you can help." Now assured of his agreement, you gradually move your fingers downwards until they reach the edge of his boxers. Before proceeding further, you steal a quick glance at Harry's face, searching for any hesitation, but there are none. With certainty, you slip your fingers beneath the elastic band encircling his narrow hips.

Your fingers pass over the patch of trimmed hairs before finally bumping into the hardness you felt against your ass a couple minutes prior. Carefully and without seeing, you take ahold of his morning wood and began to tug gently at his foreskin. This isn't your first rodeo. You know what your doing. You just hope Harry's enjoying what you're doing. And by the looks of it, he is.

Harry's leaning against his pillow, head thrown back, and a quiet gasp escapes his throat. The feeling of your hand wrapped around his cock exceeds all the fantasies he had while pleasuring himself and imagining your touch.

As you skillfully stroke him with your dominant hand, an overwhelming surge of arousal consumes you, causing your clitoris to pulsate with need. Despite the almost unbearable sensation, you set aside your own desires, dedicating yourself entirely to Harry's pleasure.

The room begins to get hot and stuffy so Harry reaches down to toss the covers off his lap. This gives you a better view of your hand down his briefs. After a few minutes of stroking his dick in your hand, you start feeling some resistant and realize the dryness may be uncomfortable for Harry. You could retreat your hand and lick your palm before going back to the handjob. Or, you could do something even better.

In one swift motion, you pull your hand out of Harry's underwear and crawl between his spread thighs. Now on your knees in front of his lying figure, you lean over his lap and tug the fabric down until it's cradled under his enlarged balls. "What are you......" he goes to ask but you cut him off.

"Shhh." You crouch down and glide your tongue over a thick vein along his shaft. He's larger than you imagined. You had an inkling of his size from how thick and heavy he felt in your hands, but now, face to face with it, he's huge. And it's not just huge, it's also aesthetically pleasing. The prettiest penis you've ever laid eyes on, and you wouldn't normally consider penises to be remarkably beautiful. It's no wonder why so many men and women enjoyed their nights with him.

A deep groan escapes Harry's lips as he's consumed by an overwhelming wave of pleasure, leaving him feeling dizzy. He never imagined you would go all out with a blowjob this morning. While a handjob is pleasurable, a blowjob is an even more exhilarating experience. You expertly guide his pulsating head to your lips and playfully flick your tongue over his sensitive slit. This action causes Harry to instinctively pull away, unable to bear the intense sensitivity.

In order to maintain his stability, you position your hands on both sides of his hips and decide you've teased long him enough. Gradually, you lower your head onto his large cock. However, as you reach approximately halfway down his length, he reaches the back of your throat, causing you to gag. Momentarily, you withdraw and apologize. "Sorry, it has been a while since I've gave a blowjob."

Harry lifts his head from the pillow and gently cups the sides of your face. "Don't worry about it. Just take it easy. You don't have to go all the way down and potentially make yourself sick. Just take what you can and it will still feel good f'me." He speaks from experience, having gave blowjobs before and knowing the struggle of trying to push beyond your limits. It only results in a sore throat and a stomach ache from gagging too much.

With a nod, you lean forward and proceed to take Harry into your mouth once again. Except this time you halt just before his tip reaches the back of your throat. Shifting one of your hands from his hip to the base of his penis, you skillfully maneuver your mouth up and down, while simultaneously twisting and tugging his shaft with your hand.

Harry thinks he's in heaven. He must be. Because nothing has ever felt this good before. None of his previous one-night stands has ever gave him this good of a blowjob. Not even the ones who could skillfully deepthroat him. Nor has any of his few actual relationships gave such a good blowjob. It must be the connection and feelings he has for you that's making this experience so amazing. It means more coming from you.

You suck and tug repeatedly until Harry is close to reaching orgasm in your mouth. Uncertain if you want him to come in your mouth, he alerts you, "Y/n... M' gonna come." Rather than withdrawing as he anticipates, you descend a bit further. This time, you successfully manage to control your gag reflex and intensify your sucking until you feel Harry releasing his warm cum in your mouth.

Harry tightly clutches his sheets, his hips involuntarily thrust upwards as he reaches his climax. You softly gag once but quickly regain your composure. He tastes better then some of the guys you've tasted before. It's a bit salty but doesn't have that pungent taste some men tend to have. Must be Harry's healthy diet.

Gradually, his limbs grow weak, and as his orgasm subsides, his body begins relaxing on the bed. You remove his wet and slippery cock from your mouth, observing Harry lying there, breathing heavily with his eyes firmly closed. Reeling what just happened.

With a croaky voice, you shyly question, "Was that good?"

"Was that good? Was it GOOD??" Harry repeats dramatically, "Oh my God, Y/n, best fuckin' blowjob I've ever had."

You playfully swat at his thighs. "Be serious, Harry."

Sitting up and tucking his limp penis back into his briefs, Harry continues his praises. "M' bein' very serious, Y/n. No one has ever made me come that hard. Not a one-night stand or any of the relationships I was in. You're a pro for sure."

For a moment the air feels heavy until you annonce, "Welp, I'm gonna go take a shower. I'm meeting up with some friends for brunch at noon."

In response, Harry mustered up a somewhat awkward reply, "Um, alright. Enjoy your shower." Left alone on his bed, Harry found himself half naked and still catching his breath from the intense orgasm he experienced a few minutes prior. He had intended to ask if he could reciprocate the favor, but you had already left before he had the chance too. It crossed his mind that perhaps you weren't interested in having the favor returned.

Maybe you don't particularly enjoy oral sex performed on you. Uncertain about your preferences, Harry's confident that if given the opportunity to perform cunnilingus on you, you'd undoubtedly fall in love with his skillful tongue. Just like the all the previous women who's praised his mouths abilities.

The truth is, you had desired Harry to return the favor. However, due to just waking up, you were unsure if your pussy smelled okay, let alone tasted alright. To avoid any negative response from him like you've had in the past from guys, you left before he could catch a glimpse of your moist cunt.

Nevertheless, because you're still experiencing a slight throb in your underwear, you discreetly brought one of your silicone vibrators into the shower to quickly satisfy yourself. Although you're certain that Harry's oral skills would have been superior, you'll have to wait a bit longer to get to experience that.

Once out of the shower, you dried off and got dressed to head out for the brunch you had planned with some friends. It was going to be at a small cafe in downtown London. As for Harry, he didn't really have any plans for today. Besides catching up on grading some tests his students took the Friday before. He hopes you're available tonight because he wishes to be able to spend more time with you. He loves spending time with you. He loves y..... Nope too soon for that.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry  // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

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My Masterlist Masterpost

Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic rec #friend!harry #friendrry #housemate!harry #housematerry #softrry #soft!harry #harry x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #friends to lovers #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #teacher!harry

[deestorytime]

Just a random Sunday afternoon with the Ackerman household Levi Ackerman X Reader with Kids Short Fluff

You were busy hanging clothes in the backyard. Nearby, your two children—a seven-year-old boy and a five-year-old girl—were engaged in a playful duel with wooden swords, their laughter breaking the quiet.

Your son often let his excitement get the better of him, swinging his sword with more power than necessary. His younger sister, struggling to keep up, soon found herself on the verge of tears from the rough play. She abandoned her sword on the grass and ran towards Levi, who was observing them from the porch. He crouched down to meet her eye level.

"He's too strong," she pouted, tears swelling in her eyes.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he said, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. "How about I take your place in the fight?"

"But Papa, you'll get hurt!" she protested.

Upon hearing this, you paused from hanging the clothes, a loud laugh escaping you. "Oh, I think your Papa can handle a little duel.”

Levi glanced over at you, a playful smirk on his lips, as he reassured her, "Don't worry, I've faced much scarier things than this. I'll be fine."

Her eyes lit up at the proposal, and she nodded eagerly, wiping away the tears. Hand in hand, they approached the boy, who paused, looking slightly hesitant but that quickly faded when he saw his father picking up the wooden sword with ease, holding it in a relaxed but ready stance.

"I’m ready," he said, realizing that he was up against his dad. "Hope you can keep up!" He smiled ear to ear.

Levi gestured for his son to make the first move, an invitation the boy accepted with a wide grin. The duel began with the boy lunging forward aggressively, clearly confident in his ability to best his father. Levi effortlessly dodged the boy’s eager lunges, tapping him gently on all his openings. The boy's confidence slowly faded and turned into frustration as he realized that he could not beat his father.

On the sidelines, his sister, initially excited by the match, grew restless as it seemed never-ending. "Can we go do something else?" she asked you, tugging at your shirt.

"Yeah, I’m tired of this too," you replied, playfully rolling your eyes. "Let’s go inside. You can help me set the table for dinner." She nodded happily and followed you into the house. Inside, you and your daughter set the table together, her earlier worries forgotten as she happily helped with the cooking and taste-testing.

The sun began to set, painting the yard in a golden light. You stepped onto the porch, drying your hands on a towel. Levi and your son were still dueling, and you could tell your son was exhausted.

"Wrap it up! Dinner is ready. Hurry up before it gets cold!” you yelled.

The boy looked over in disappointment. He dropped his sword and began walking to the house, Levi doing the same.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" Levi said with a light chuckle. "Reminds me of someone I used to know."

The boy, puffing out his chest a bit, asked, "Was he a good fighter?"

"One of the best," Levi replied. "And stubborn just like you. Never gave up, no matter what."

#levi fluff #attack on titan #levi aot #levi x reader #captain levi #fanfic #levi ackerman #aot levi #levi attack on titan #levi x y/n #levi x you

[vhgr]

alicent hightower & control.

i think alicent is fascinated by it. we have to understand that alicent is not the kind of person to burst at any given chance. no, those fits only happen at specific times. they happen when she has no more room left to occupy. alicent doesn't grasp for control because she's losing her stance, she does it because it feels good. this comes in little doses, at first. until the eventful appearance of the green dress. then, alicent fully steps up as the queen. she steps up as someone who wants to count, who no longer wishes to blend in the background. but control is much more than just entertaining your authority on others just because you can. control can be present in the little things. alicent grasps for control, because it's a comfort. alicent likes to step her foot down; but that always comes with testing her limits. and depending on the situation, she likes the thrill of that. albeit, in truth, what would be ideal, is balance; and i mean on a personal level. either with someone with whom alicent doesn't have to be authoritative with, or someone who can challenge her reins, without compromising her.

#* ──── 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 » character study . #ive said it before and ill say it again #alicent and loki actually have quite a couple of interesting parallels if you wanna call them that #at some point tom said something in an interview #i cant find it but what he said was something like #loki is in truth seeking self esteem through his pursuit of power #control and a throne or what have you is just the exterior of it #the shell of it #naturally loki doesnt realise his own insecurity #alicent is #naturally #*but* #i think this is something they potentially share #alicent too finds her confidence reaching for power #because never before has she stood steady on her feet or been sure of who she is and what she wants #and yeah you can say oh anyone confident likes control #well #not really #if youre confident in who you are you are not this restless #youre self assured #alicent isnt #but this is a leverage she can hold on to #she wants control #she likes it #she wouldnt mind letting go of it if possible #but it isnt' #when will she find her mobius 😔 #or even her fandral 😔

[chastiefoul]

0:56 a.m. | nanami kento

0.6k words

“kento,” you whispered into the silence of the night and the dimmed lights on your room. It’s been way past midnight and you hadn’t been able to sleep, contrary to your boyfriend who’s lying beside you—his breath steady and calm.

when your voice didn’t budge him out of his slumber you tried once more.

“kento.” this time a little louder.

he then muttered an inaudible word, still closing his eyes. his hand wandered though, tightening his hold around the back of your shoulder; bringing you close to his chest. better, but the gesture was not enough for you who’s not feeling even a little sleepy, as mischief ideas filled your head.

third time’s a charm, they said. so you called him once more.

this time it finally did something as he hummed a reply, his free hand rubbed your side in a calming pattern, his hand went underneath your shirt that’s all rode up. he settled his grip just an inch under your chest, his thumb slowly moved up and down. “that tickles,” you said as you put a hand over his, refraining his little movement. Although, you’re sure he could hear the smile on your voice.

he finally opened his eyes as he gave you a lazy little smile and you swore you didn’t remember seeing anything more gorgeous than that. “why aren’t you asleep, hm?” his voice a tone heavier than usual, a tad husky as it laced deep with sleep. “i can’t sleep,” you whispered, like telling a secret to your best friends in a slumber party. “right. so i don’t get to either, yeah?” he replied, a smile on his face; and it’s only fondness shine across his feature.

“i mean, i understand if the old man needs his sleep even though tomorrow’s weekend. so by all means,” you said playfully, and that earned a deep chuckle from him. “don’t tease, who said we should have an early night today?” he raised an eyebrow, and for such a calm sleeper he now couldn’t stop his wandering hand as he’s diligent on giving you back-scratches—not that you’re complaining. “yes, but that was before my confidence in being able to fall asleep crumbled right before my eyes,” you claimed, feigning a serious tone. “i see, my mistake.” his eyes narrowed affectionately and you had a feeling you could say the dumbest excuse and he’d let you get away with anything.

you felt the need to sit up and do something but before you could even do that he held you down gently. “none of that, you’ll feel even more restless, love.” you couldn’t even protest at that since you knew he’s always right. “then what do you suggest we do now?”

“it’s a we problem now, hm?” he stared at you in amusement, knowing who dragged him into the sleepless night as well was none other than you. “is that a complaint i hear?” you threw him a questioning look. “it’s excitement, of course.” he laughed softly as he stroke your hair ever-so-gently.

“i should just start rambling maybe it’ll get me tired,” you said randomly and he just nodded without offering any question. “sure, i’m listening.” his hand didn’t stop moving. “where should i start?” you asked, relying on his answer. And of course it came easy for the man who seemed like he knew all the right words. “start anywhere, love. you could repeat anything, skipped over some words, or even tell it backwards and i’ll be here to point it out,” he said lovingly.

and you don’t know if it’s just his power you didn’t know about but it’s not even ten minutes after you started talking and as he kept doing the little gesture you could feel the sleepiness coming, welcoming you to one of your best slumber in a while.

--

idk how it took me this long to write this man. i love him so much.

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #nanami kento #kento x reader

[vauxxy]

SECOND THAT

luke castellan x reader

★ “i’m restless, i’m wrestling with the song that you love, it’s been stuck in my head”

ABOUT - luke castellan is the only one at camp who sees right through your perfect and poised persona; and all he wants is the satisfaction of ruining it.

WARNINGS - smut, mentions of choking, both the reader and luke are TERRIBLE but luke is much worse lol, swearing, written from the perspective of a deranged luke, penetration, only loosely proofread.

A/N- i have NEVER written and posted smut before EVER. like i get close but i never go all out. so… no hate guys 😘 also i feel like this is a bit ooc for luke so just pretend he’s actually insane and terrible guys!!! if you ignore his incoherent ramblings, it’s PWOP sooo… anyways this might be the first and last time i ever write smut who knows

luke castellan is no amateur when it comes to pretending to be something else. growing up, the only thing that mattered to luke was receiving praise or recognition for being ‘great’ or ‘honourable’ or whatever.

when you live your whole life pretending to be a perfect person, you kinda start to believe you really are a perfect person.

and if everyone you meet also believes you are indeed a perfect person, what’s the harm in continuing to pretend?

at the end of the day, both parties gain something. you get the validation and acclaim that you truly deserve, and they get a role model they aspire to at least halfway resemble.

luke is the sweetest guy at camp- everyone loves him. and he deserves it, doesn’t he? he deserves their praise and love and respect. gods, he should be rewarded for pretending to be so admirable for so long. he’s entitled to it.

you, on the other hand? you don’t. you don’t deserve an ounce of the praise luke has worked so hard to receive.

to luke, you’re vermin. behind your polite smiles and sweet words, there’s darkness. there’s an evil lurking within you- he’s sure of it.

he sees it during early morning sparring sessions, watching from the wings while you tactfully dodge every attack that comes your way. and when you eventually falter, he sees how your eyes turn cold and your smile fades.

he sees how you take a shaky breath, brushing yourself off with your bony hands before flashing a toothy grin. he feels nauseous when you extend your arm out to shake the hand of your opponent- because how the fuck can they believe your little act?

your gentle kindness and bashful charisma is so obviously fake. of course, he’s not pissed that you’re acting; everyone at camp is acting to an extent. but you’re going all out, and he can still see through it. what pisses him off, is that nobody else seems to recognise how truly malicious you can be.

maybe it’s because you’re pretty. luke is no stranger to getting special treatment based on his appearance, and neither should you be. maybe that’s the whole basis of your appeal. it seems to be the only thing holding your pathetic little facade together, considering your sloppy acting skills.

if you were ugly everyone would be able to call out your bullshit straight away, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing the spotlight. honestly, the only reason why everyone loves you so much is because half of them want to fuck you, and the other half want your attention or approval- not that it’d be worth anything.

it was the last week of spring, meaning only the year-rounders and a few of the older kids were at camp. you just graduated high school, and arrived at camp early.

of course, you just had to return to camp prettier, taller, more confident, and with a fancy college acceptance letter. maybe you were much smarter than you let on- but it became very apparent that your intelligence wasn’t the reason you got accepted into NYU once he learned what you were studying.

“oh, i’m getting a degree in art history,”

seriously? art history? that’s gotta be the funniest thing luke has ever heard in his entire life.

“really? why art history?” he asks politely, watching your every move as he awaits your dumbass explanation.

you shrug cheerfully, looking around at the few other campers scattered around in a tight-knit circle as they wait for you to tell them about your ‘lovely’ 18th birthday and ‘eventful’ senior year.

“i don’t know, my mum works with a lot of artists, so she said it’d be a good conversation starter,” you say cheerfully, as if it wasn’t the stupidest thing to ever exit your mouth.

luke can��t help but let out a little giggle, before instantly lowering his head to offer some non-verbal apology. but to his surprise, you laugh along. “yeah, i really wanna score a job at the MET or something. i don’t mind either way,”

luke nods politely, letting the conversation continue without interrupting with a snide comment or unsolicited laughter.

he plays along as the conversation continues, pretending he doesn’t want to grab you by the throat and push you against the wall, demanding you to confess. demanding you to tell the fucking truth; that you’re a manipulative sycophant who’s bound to end up in rehab for getting addicted to designer drugs.

why is he the only one that sees you for who you truly are? gods, if he knew any better he might be charmed. you were naturally picturesque- or at least you seemed to be. the way that you were sitting on the grass with your hair draping over your body; you looked gorgeous. but you always look gorgeous, that’s your best quality after all.

of course all of camp half-blood was fooled- you were to pretty and kind to be lying. maybe it was better to let them keep on believing that you were this perfect image of a girl.

but he’d still appreciate the satisfaction of seeing you for who you are- seeing you in your rawest form.

and then suddenly, he saw it. some athena girl asked you if you wanted to go on a run with her later, to which you politely declined. of course, you kept your composure, told her that you had to take a nap, offered her a sympathetic smile and a ‘maybe next time’. but she didn’t see the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as soon as she looked away.

luke was astonished. you really were getting sloppy, huh?

and yet, nobody else saw it. nobody else saw the look of disgust on your face as soon as she finished talking. he was seething- how on earth could everyone be so blind?

luke looks around at the group of people surrounding him, his eyes darting back to you ever 5 or 10 seconds. they all look at you with awe- as if you’re the most precious thing on earth.

fuck that. he was going to put you in your place.

a few hours pass, and it was finally time for everyone to walk back to their cabins.

luke spots you walking alone to your cabin, your face dimly lit by the moon as it shines over the camp. he’s so overwhelmed with anger, he couldn’t fathom caring about the consequences of whatever situation he was about to put himself in.

he quickly catches up to you, meeting your walking pace as he shoots you a friendly smile.

“hey, y/n. you got a minute?” luke asks, still adorning that charming smile. you smile back at him, nodding your head ever so gently, as if it would fall off if you moved it too fast. like a rusty elvis bobble head bought 1976 that resides on the dash of your grandmother’s busted car.

“yeah, why?” you hold your hands behind your back as you walk beside him, slowly approaching your empty cabin. luke shrugs his shoulders. “oh, i just had a little question. mind if we talk in your cabin?” he asks.

you nod, opening the door for luke and letting him walk through. you close the door behind him, before leaning your back against the wall. luke stands in front of you, his cheery demeanour vanishing as he crosses his arms.

“why the fuck are you such a little bitch all the time?”

you furrow your brows, mirroring his posture as you cross your arms defensively. “excuse me?”

luke rolls his eyes, letting out dry laughter as he looks you up and down. “you heard me,” he adds, watching you anxiously begin to pick at your lips with your freshly manicured fingernails.

“do you have a problem with me or something?” your whole body feels tense as you continue picking at your lips, your eyes locked onto his.

“yeah, i do have a problem. i’m tired of your little ‘nice girl’ act. it’s getting fucking annoying,” luke scoffed, taking a step closer towards you. your eyes darken, before shaking away your hostile expression.

“are you sure you wanna do this right now, castellan?”

“is that a threat?”

you pull your fingertips away from your lips, shifting your weight to the other side of your body as you cross your arms once more. you let silence fill the room before finally speaking up.

“listen, luke. everyone pretends to be someone they’re not. you and i just tend to do it more than others-“

luke cuts your off, taking another step forwards. “fuck off, we are not the same.”

you roll your eyes, banging your head against the wall as you groan irritably. “so what? are you gonna go around spreading cheap lies about me now?” you ask tiredly. luke shakes his head, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

“nah.” he replies curtly, his voice blunt and expression vague. “mkay, then what the fuck is your problem?”

luke takes another quick step forward, tightly holding your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to face him. “you’re my fucking problem.”

you let out a dry laugh, staring into his eyes as you attempt to intimidate him. “you’re such a loser.” you whisper, refusing to fight back against the way he’s gripping your face.

he stays silent, biting his lip as he looks over your form. “and you’re a brat.” he retorts.

“are we just going to keep throwing insults back and forth all night, or are you gonna explain why you’re so obsessed with me?” you ask playfully, cupping his face in your hand as an attempt to patronise him.

luke is stumped. to be fair, he is entirely obsessed with you. and he has been for years now. and now he has you cornered, watching your weak attempts at asserting dominance over him.

luke was over it.

suddenly, luke leans in, harshly pressing his lips against yours. you retract your hand from his face, pressing it against the wall as you feel his body moving towards you.

he wraps his other hand around your neck, only gently gripping it as to not alarm you.

luke is surprised by how you sink into his grip, pulling away to see your closed eyes and swollen lips. when you wipe your mouth and look at him with those hauntingly innocent eyes, he’s almost fooled.

you scoff, smirking as you tear away from his grip and take a few steps back. “is that all you wanted?” you say confidently, watching him turn around to watch you carefully pace around the room.

he shakes his head, groaning quietly as he walks over to you once more.

luke purses his lips, trying to suppress any sense of genuine attraction to you. but when his eyes gaze over to your red lips and flushed cheeks, he can’t help but let his mind wander.

“if you’re done, you can leave, castellan.” you say irritably, leaning against your bed frame.

it goes straight to his dick when you call him that, especially when your voice sounds so hoarse and cocky. he feels as though he’s finally accomplished what he’s been yearning to do for years now. he’s seeing the real you.

he couldn’t dare squander this opportunity now.

he pushes you down onto your bed, watching how your hair flows over your newly made bedsheets as your head hits the pillow.

“but you don’t want me to leave, do you?” luke says lowly, hovering over your body as his hand hold your wrists together above your head.

“i don’t care what you do, castellan.”

luke groans, pressing another rough kiss against your lips. you kiss back for whatever reason, and your firsts relax within his grip. it was almost as if you got off on the idea of someone calling out your bullshit. or maybe you got off on the idea of somewhat hating your guts. either way, luke knew you were more than eager to continue.

he let go of your wrists, before biting your bottom lip. your mouth opens slightly, offering entry to his tongue, deepening the kiss.

you hand cups his face, while the other grips his shoulder. after a few moments, he pulls away and begins sucking at the skin of your neck, leaving purple marks on your delicate skin while you let out hoarse whimpers.

his hands begin to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt, causing you to push his body forwards as you position yourself to sit on his lap. you take off your shirt, throwing it away as you run your hands down his back.

luke looks down at your chest, growing more aroused at the sight of your lacy little bra. it’s as if you knew someone was going to see it.

you feel a hardness growing from under his jeans, poking against your upper thigh as you slowly grind against his lap. luke let’s put a low moan, continuing to bury his face in your neck.

“i fucking hate you,” he growls, gripping the sides of your waist with his hands as you move against him.

“don’t care, take off your shirt,” you demand hurriedly, running your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you.

luke rolls his eyes, before taking off his shirt. he quickly presses another series of harsh kissses against your neck, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as you push your chest up against his. you giggle softly at his incompetence, before he finally unhooks it and ravenously pulls it from your chest.

luke pushes your body backwards onto the bed, trailing kisses down from your neck and onto your tits. you let out a quiet moan, before biting down onto your hand in order to stifle the sound. his large hands knead your left breast, while the other grips the area just under your right breast, resting on top of your ribcage.

luke’s hands slowly move downwards, hip thumb tracing circles against the side of your hip as you gently grasp onto his hair. his fingertips gently pull down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear.

he rubs his thumb over the wet fabric, before tilting his head to look up at you. “pathetic,” he mutters, smirking at your flushed faced. you groan, burying the back of your head further into the pillow as your back arches involuntarily.

luke’s thumb massages your clit from over the soaking fabric, watching you squirm in response. he lets out a dry laugh, before pulling down your panties and tossing them onto the floor.

“luke…” you moan quietly, closing your eyes as your hips jerk into the mattress. his fingers trace your wet folds, before letting his thumb rub circles against your clit and forcing two fingers inside of you.

you whimper before pursing your lips, rolling your head around as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. he quickens his pace, pressing down harshly against your clit while beginning to suck on the skin of your upper thigh.

luke holds down your hip with his free hand as you begin to squirm.

suddenly, he stops.

you look at him with a confused expression, your face red as he pulls his fingers out. he chuckles at your disappointed face, before taking off his pants and boxers. you stare at his length unashamedly, biting down on your bottom lip.

“so fucking needy.” he says lowly, his voice horse as he softly begins to continue massaging your clit. you moan, feeling your back arch as he positions himself in front of your legs. he forcefully spreads them open as he teases your folds with the tip of his erect member.

you let out a little whine, your voice trembling as you try to move your hips against his length.

luke rolls his eyes at your poor attempts at penetration, before slowly pushing his cock into your entrance. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your hands eagerly gripping your bedsheets.

he gradually pushes in the entirety his length, continuing to rub circles into your clit. luke tightly grips your waist as he begins to slowly pull out, before jamming himself back in. you let out a breathy yelp as you body moves with his thrusts.

like continues relentlessly pushing in and out of you, massaging your waist as his thumb gradually increases the speed of its attack on your clit.

you try to steady you breathing, your face flushed as lukewarm continues to deliberately overwhelm your body.

“mm… luke, i’m gonna…” you mutter, your hips jerking upwards. he smiles at you, amused by how blissed out you look taking his cock. “so soon?” he teases, rapidly moving against your body.

you let out a stammering series of whimpers as your back arches upwards, feeing yourself suddenly release. luke grins, continuing to rub circles into your clit as he rides out your orgasm.

luke slowly retracts his thumb, repositioning the hand to gently grip your hip. he begins to slow down his movements, before quickly thrusting into you repetitively. you squirm, the movements of your hips constrained by his grip.

suddenly, he pulls out, releasing onto your stomach. see? he was a gentleman.

luke gazes over at the girl he just reduced to a panting mess as he stands up and puts his clothes back on. he smiles at you as he zips up his jeans, before kneeling besides you as you turn your head to look at him.

“i wont tell anyone how fucking pathetic you are, don’t worry, princess.”

you nod, staring at him as he continues to look at your defenceless body. “such a pretty girl,” he hums, cupping your face in his hand before kissing your forehead.

he reaches over to your discarded underwear and gently pulls them up your legs, the gesture acting somewhat as a peace offering. he takes a step back, simply taking in how endearingly stupid you look.

you slowly sit yourself up, grabbing your camp t shirt and putting it on. “goodnight, luke,” you choke out, your voice hoarse and breathing shallow. he nods, smiling softly as he turns to walk away. “night, princess.”

#luke castellan enemies to lovers #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fic #luke castellan smut #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader smut #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #pjo x reader #pjo tv show

[dilfsfordinner]

a/n- this is so sad to think about

summary- megumi is curious about his “mom’s” current situation… ft husband!gojo x pregnant reader

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“Why are you so big?”

A choked cough caught in your throat at the little boy’s comment, his big, bug-like eyes scanning your belly as you fought to hold in a laugh, arm wrapping around his shoulders to pull him closer, his little form curled into your side on the couch.

“Your little brother is the reason, I’m afraid,” your voice was soft as you eyed him, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion before his fingers latched onto your swollen belly, tiny digits pulling at the fabric of your top to reveal the skin underneath, your stomach now completely bare before him.

Megumi looked as if your reply was the most confusing thing to ever cross his mind, his nose scrunching as he pondered the meaning of your words before his eyes locked on yours again. “But I thought babies came from birds?”

An amused sigh left your lips as you wondered who had told him such a thing, a certain white-haired man coming to mind as if in answer. “Megs, don’t listen to what that idiot has to say,” you hummed, your palm cupping his cheek before brushing his dark locks out of his face.

“And who is this idiot, I wonder?” a familiar voice spoke in your ear, a surprised yelp coming from you at Gojo’s sudden presence. Your surprise quickly turned to anger, however, as you felt a restless kick delivered to your lower abdomen, your hand flying out to slap your husband against the chest, a gasp coming from his lips in faux hurt.

“You’ll scare the baby, Satoru,” came your muttered reply, his legs quickly maneuvering over the back of the couch to land next to you, long arm shooting out to pull you and Megumi into a smushed, side hug. “I love you too,” he smiled as he left a kiss to your cheek, one hand snaking around your torso to cradle your bare belly, the other ruffling the boy’s hair while he was distracted.

“You’re the idiot!” Megumi blurted, fingers slapping Gojo’s hand away as you scoffed, a facetious ‘thanks megs’ slipping from your lips before Gojo hummed gratefully for the boy’s insight. “And why am I the subject of your bullying?” he purred into your ear, your eyes turning to look at him far more eagerly than he anticipated.

“Megumi was wondering where kids come from. You should tell him, Toru,” you said sweetly, a grin starting to pull at your lips as his own fell from his face, the tips of his ears turning red as well as a light blush creeping up his neck. You watched as he looked at the waiting Megumi, his innocent eyes staring into Gojo’s own, waiting for his answer.

A gulp came from your husband, his long fingers rubbing your belly as if for reassurance before he confidently said, “It’s just as I said, Megs, a white bird came into our room at night and gave her your soon-to-be brother. That’s all there is to it.”

Megumi maybe thought his answer to be true, or maybe he didn’t, he didn’t seem to care though, a smile pulling at his cheeks as he watched you struggle to hit Gojo over the head, frustrated huffs coming from you as Satoru himself just grinned, your shared voices eventually twining into comfortable conversation as the little boy snuggled up to your stomach, the soft words the two of you shared pushing him closer and closer to drowsiness, and ultimately, the hands of his afternoon nap.

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#he would be the best dad smh #why do i want a baby so bad #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x female reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader

[aweina]

౨ৎ. KIMSET LUST ( 17﹢) ; mike schmidt

tags fem reader. mike’s pov. established relationship. mentions of blood. male masturbation. cunnilingus. mike being put into silly sexual situations + 1.8k words.

unintentionally perverted mike who cannot seem to catch a break from weirdly calculated sexual situations, but ends up going along with it — was it god’s plan? he doesn’t know. all he knows is that it began to unravel when you recently moved into his humble home, though it all seems like some erotic coincidence.

mike hated laundry duties. he’s always done them himself, sluggishly tossing a mixture of dirty clothes while abby plays with the cheap detergent and the sweetening softener. half that time he’s at the verge of toppling over the washer because a good night���s sleep seemed to be his enemy. now with you around, he found himself peacefully lounging on the couch cushions beside you — admiring your delicate hands folding each garment with precision and neatness he couldn’t emulate.

night shifts were less stressful. mike would find his security vest freshly ironed and laid perfectly over his bed. his nightly meal was already packed in his work bag, containers of his favorite food tucked in a orderly stack. you would be at the front door, peppering kisses all over his face while saying your hushed goodbyes — giving him a natural energy booster. despite working gruesome hours and the paranormal nature of the abandoned children’s pizzeria making him rethink all his life choices, mike was thankful you’ve put so much effort into taking care of him.

the office was eerie, darkened and covered in disheveled merchandise. the white noise from the bulky monitors began to irritate him. he could never seem to stay awake, despite the wavering feeling of death — other pairs of eyes stalking his movements, although mike convinced himself it was just all in his head. but restlessness weighed heavier than the feeling of danger, so he decided to steal in a few hours of sleep. tucking his hand in his pocket, the cassette tape he brought felt weird, like thin fabric? mike tugs out the foreign object in curiosity and immediately sputters in embarrassment.

it was your underwear. wrinkled from being confide by his jean pocket — seemingly lost when it was tussled in the dryer. mike was no stranger to seeing you in underwear, but he’s never held them before. damn, it was cute. made with white lace and silk fabric, a pretty little bow hemmed on the waistband. his first instinct would be to put it aside and give it to you probably in the next five hours. but then there were lingering thoughts, not-so-innocent ones.

mike halfheartedly folds the intimate garment until he stares at it for more than a few seconds — so pretty, just like you. he’s imagining you wearing it, how it wraps around your plush waist, how it looks when you bend down. ever so slowly, mike brings it to his face. the silky material felt gentle on his skin, perfumed with floral detergent that you picked out. he pressed it harder on his face, desperately taking in any remnants of your natural scent — even when he knew that wouldn’t be the case. but mike still blindly smelt you, like how would when you’re spread apart in front of him — those quiet nights. his face was completely submerged in the fabric, every audible sniff made him feel a little shameful, but he couldn’t help himself. your heady scent kept him awake that shift.

it was morning, the night shift only hours past him. mike huffs a curse when he guiltily pinches at the hem of your underwear — tainted with his own seed. his face grows hot at his unusual pastime. did he really jerk off with your underwear? in the middle of his job? mike knew he was pathetic, but he didn’t know he could even stoop that low. what’s done is done, he thinks. nervously fiddling with the lock, the sudden sound of a whirling car engine made the keys in his sweaty grasp collapse to the ground. it was a cop car and that really only meant one person.

the tinted windows slid down, a peek of blonde hair made him stumble just a bit.

“hey mike, the shift okay?” vanessa asked with a small smile — blue eyes watching him carefully.

with your underwear still in his grasp, mike suspiciously tucks it in his pocket as he feigns a cough — hoping that could draw away attention from it. he shrugs with attempted composure, keeping his slightly sticky hands deep in his pockets.

“yeah, didn’t sleep this time.” mike was honest, but not too honest.

vanessa squints her eyes, the nervous tone in his voice setting off alarms. it didn’t help that she saw some weird object in his hand, how much more messy his curls were, a weirdly placed lace print marking his flushed face, or the white stains that blotched against his unzipped jeans. actually, she knows exactly what’s going on, but she’ll spare herself from having such an awkward exchange.

at least he hasn’t figured it out yet.

“that’s good, make it back home safe.” vanessa disregards the relieved exhale from mike, quietly amused at the fact that he really thought he was even subtle in his nightly activity.

“thanks, i will.” mike waves as he watches the car drive away, zipping up the fly of jeans with one hand.

that was two days ago. he’s never really told you what happened out of guilt. your soiled underwear was immediately washed twice and dried when he got back home, right before you could even greet him from the kitchen — wafting with the hungering scent of buttery pancakes and sizzling bacon. he even tried to fold it the same way you did to draw away your keen eyes.

it was funny enough that the next day, a blurry photo of your nude body was planted in the folds of his leather wallet. he was lucky to fish it out at a secluded gas station rather than a grocery store. mike stared at the photo for a while, completely enamored by your misted curves and the hazy, lustrous gaze at the camera. of course he saved the photo, tucking it back in his wallet as he patted down the hardened tent on his pants.

then his night shift came along. though, it was much worse. the time looping nightmare kept him shaken, pints of sweat falling from his brow bone. it felt like he was mindlessly holding his breath, choking himself in his own sleep. the jagged cut on his arm bled, stinging with every shallow movement — a deep slash that managed to cut through the thick fabric of his jacket. mike has no idea how he got it, but he didn’t care enough to figure it out, at least for now. it was bandaged rather poorly, done with a trembling hand and limited knowledge of medical attention. all his muddled brain could process right now was the directions back to his home and the desperate feeling to be splayed on his warm bed.

he was an hour late when he got back home, nearly collapsing into a permanent sleep once he sat on the driver’s seat. it was a miracle that he made it back home — with the road being a complete blur and the traffic lights floating behind his eyelids. abby was at school around this time and you were … where were you? despite his worry over your absence, mike promptly darted towards his room — hoping that he could soothe the sores penetrated deep into his muscles, to keep his mind away from the smell of rot that haunted him in his familiar dream.

flinging open the door, mike senselessly tosses his work bag towards the side — bumping into the legs of his littered nightstand with a loud bang. he falls face first on his bed, a comforting warmth instantly washing over his aching body. it felt so soft, much more different than sitting on a hard, freezing chair for hours on end.

“mike?” your soft voice ringed in his ears, you were here.

“hey baby, i’m sorry. i’m tired … really tired.” mike apologetically mumbles, knowing his absence must’ve been unusual — maybe the crash from his bag startled you so early in the morning.

“m – mike.” your voice was much more pitched, you probably didn’t hear him.

the second his mouth fell open, a soft whimper escaped your lips — the magazine you were once browsing through was thrown to the side as your grip on the sheets were tight. mike blinked in confusion, but then he suddenly smelled it. your dripping arousal, his nose buried so deep into the source. from the moment he laid on the bed, he must’ve accidentally fallen his face between your legs without even realizing. was he that tired? why does this keep on happening? the underwear situation only happened a couple of days ago, the nude photo, and now this? he couldn’t tell if he was lucky or not.

the energy that was initially sucked out of his body rushed back into his veins. your body always kept him awake, even in his most restless days. lifting his head slightly, he peeks at the sight of your adorable pout and your watery gaze that could draw him away from the endless nightmares. it was still so early, everything under the sky was filtered blue, the sun was nestled beneath the morning shadows, the biting cold fighting against the whirling heater. but then again, these opportunities kept on falling on his lap, fantasies that mike never realized he had. it all centered around you, like the universe neatly wrapped you in silky ribbons and made you appear in his grayish moments — all the sexual repression he put himself through this week was somehow rewarded.

maybe he could indulge in this gift, thanking whoever is scattering your intimate belongings in his presence and letting him nuzzle between your legs without even having to open his eyes.

with this new epiphany, mike mouthed over your clothed mound, lapping his tongue on the thin fabric with much enthusiasm. he remembered the texture fairly well, how the silk tingled his skin, the press of cotton threads forming floral designs on his cheeks — it was the same underwear he used to masturbate. but now he was blessed with the source of your slickness, not washed away from artificial scents. his jaw moved in fervor, licking and suckling at the dampening fabric. each desperate groan that fell from his lips vibrated into your core — a rush of heat creating goosebumps all over your skin. your moans sounded so pretty, like a sweet tune. the call of his name echoed the empty halls when he finally pushed aside the soiled fabric and latched his mouth eagerly onto your soaked pussy.

something new seemed to happen everyday, all these freakish manifestations of his perverted fantasies.

mike couldn’t wait for what’s next to come.

© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

#.୨୧ ina writes #.purple mark #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #fnaf movie x reader #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt

[saltburnedme]

My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Paring: Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3520

Summary: You’d only been visiting family at Saltburn for a few weeks, but this time you couldn’t shift the feeling of something or someone watching you.

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), choking, stalking? Kind of?, two way mirrors, vague horror ish themes, dubious consent, generally fucked up smut overall

Writers note: Hi friends! This is my first Oliver fic, I’m planning on writing more so let me know if you have any requests. I’ve only seen the film once so I apologise if my writing of him isn’t quite right yet.. just read his parts with his accent and I think it works! Please share, comment, like and all of those good things 💕💕

Part 2

21 days, almost a full month, that’s how long it had taken you to get to grips with the enormity of Saltburn. Most of that time had been spent mistakenly walking into a linen closet which supplied one of the many bedrooms believing it was the entrance to your room. You’d even drawn yourself a map by this point and somehow, you still managed to get lost, the house was almost as much of a maze as the actual maze in the garden was. You had checked off your room, all of the shared spaces and most of the other bedrooms, inhabited or otherwise, all marked down perfectly on your little map. There was only one wing of the house which you were not allowed into, Elsbeth called it the ‘bachelor pad’ something you know Felix would have at the very least groaned at. He’d been sharing this space with his guest, another student named Oliver. He was quiet, a bit of a mystery overall but from that you assessed that he was a man who liked his privacy, making you chalk up their reluctance to have you in that space no more than a matter of comfort. A comfort you wish that you could say you felt also.

You visited Saltburn many times as a child, the family themselves were distant relatives of yours which is why you always summered there when your parents were away on business. You’d never felt uncomfortable there before, but this time something was different even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the heat getting to you, maybe it was the ever changing list of house guests that visited or the way that it seemed the eyes on the paintings of long dead aristocracy seemed to follow you around the room. Something had changed, if only you could put your finger on it.. or a toe.. maybe even an out stretched palm if you felt confident enough, anything to make this restlessness end. Every night that you laid in bed, you felt something, someone, watching you. You had checked, you’d opened every door, searched every shelf and wandered into every linen closet in the vicinity of your room and every time, nothing. Your well drawn map granting you no ease of mind, even with all of the labels you’d added to it over the last few weeks. The constant tossing and turning ceased only by one saving grace, you’d remembered to pack your vibrator.

Every night like clockwork your little buzzing friend would find the tingling mound between your legs, slipping in and out seamlessly like always, making you cum within a few minutes. That was until tonight, maybe you should have expected it. 21 days in a row of usage, the batteries were sure to go flat at some point, you just didn’t think it would be so soon. Placing it into the draw of the bedside table you go back to the constant pacing feeling in your mind as you attempted to sleep. The watching feeling was back, the hairs on your arms standing up, the feeling of the familiar prickling at the back of your neck as if something dangerous was approaching from the shadows. But sleep finally took you, once again.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the wood of the door early every morning tore you from your sleep, a much needed sleep. The curtains being torn open and the light hitting your face remind you of where you are almost immediately, at least this time with the maids in your room you knew who was watching you. ‘Breakfast is ready’ she says as she leaves the room as promptly as she arrived, off to wake another of the Saltburn family without a doubt. Crawling out of bed in your white night dress, you throw on a matching robe over the top, fumbling your slippers on, briefly checking your reflection in the full length mirror mounted to the wall across from your bed before wandering down the long halls to the breakfast table. Taking your usual seat you notice no one else has awoken yet, your tired eyes settling on the food in front of you, you almost fall asleep sitting up eating. The exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up with you. ‘You looked frustrated last night’ a low voice utters quietly a few seats across from you, the low muttering making you jump out of your skin with shock.

‘Excuse me?’ You question, a puzzled look on your face which could have been mistaken for anger, your words coming out harsher than you expected. You see the man across from you almost retreat into himself, he’d barely uttered a word to you in the last 21 days and now this? Your mind immediately flashing back to your frustration at your vibrator unceremoniously dying on you, surely that isn’t what he refers to tho.. right? ‘Oh Oliver, I’m sorry, I’m so tired that came out poorly. what do you mean?’ You question, making Oliver un tense slightly.

‘I saw you looking for something last night’ he begins. ‘Anything I can help with?’ He questions.

‘Oh, That. I was just trying to get a better lay of the land. Every time i visit I swear this place is rearranged, it’s like a new house every time.’ You reply.

‘Sure, that must have been it’ he replies, no follow up, nothing. Although it was more of a conversation than you’d managed with him this whole time, you expected maybe something else would have come from this. He could have offered to help you, anything. Although you hadn’t spoken that much you’d find it hard to argue that you hadn’t developed a little crush on him, his dark hair in contrast with his piercing blue eyes, surely that would make any girl swoon.

Just as you finally thought of something to say, the thought of offering him an invitation to explore the mansion with you to further expand your map, the rest of the family arrived, keen to discuss plans for the day. Your hopes of getting to know Oliver better shattered once again.

You continued your day like normal, a dip in the pool, a little bit of reading, another trip to a random room to expand the map and eventually dinner and straight to bed.

Once again you were kept up, tonight you indulged in wine a little bit more than usual, the knowledge of the lack of batteries to fuel your only release weighing heavy on your mind.

Crawling into bed you listen to the creaking of the wooden floorboards in the hallway, the sound of the old house almost swaying in the breeze as if that were possible. You try to ignore the familiar ache between your thighs as you long for sleep subtly grinding against the palm of your hand as you crave the release you know you can’t have. The feeling growing stronger and your movements becoming more unsubtle as you move the covers off of you, the fabric of your night dress pooling up around your hips as you grind, longing for that familiar feeling. ‘Ugh, fuck sake’ you groan, it’s of no use. You roll over frustratedly, your face buried in pillows as you let out a silent scream. That’s when you hear it, the floorboards creaking, the sound too loud to be from the hallway and it wasn’t just creaking this time, footsteps. But it couldn’t be, you’d locked the door to your room, the only other way in was through the window which you had ensured was locked.

‘Hello?’ You ask tentatively, sitting bolt upright in bed at this point. You weren’t sure if you prayed for an answer or not, at least if there were an answer you’d know for certain that you weren’t alone. But no answer came.

2:41am, you’d checked the clock at least 20 times by now every time you had almost drifted to sleep another creak on the floorboards would tare you from your dreams. It sounded almost as if they were getting closer, they’d began earlier by your mirror and by now they were approaching the head of the bed. Sometimes you even thought you could feel something touching you, lightly re arranging the way your hair fell on the pillow, or something lightly tugging at the blanket that covered your body. But this time you felt it for sure.

The weight on the bed shifted, while you lay in the middle, the bed dipped on the side, the unmistakeable feeling of someone sitting at the side of the bed. Another second and you felt it, a hand on your ankle wrapped tight. Terrified you sit, unable to move. You never imagined this is how you’d be in this position, you’d scream and fight when you’d imagined this scenario previously but you were wrong, so wrong. You lay there silently, only when you felt the grip on your ankle tighten did you even let on that you were awake as you were harshly dragged down the bed, now splayed out in the middle. Before you could scream a hand smacks over your mouth with a slap, silencing any sound that could have come out of you.

‘What were you thinking about?’ A voice in the dark asks, an accent of some sort laced in his words surely belonging to the owner of the strong hands currently pinning you against the bed. ‘Who were you thinking about?’ The voice continues, more demanding this time as the accent becomes clearer, Oliver? Surely not. The sweet, quiet man who sits across from you silenced by his own nervousness every breakfast, it can’t be him. You try to answer, your words muffled by the hand over your mouth, although you’re sure it would be less of an answer and more of a demanding to get out of your room.

‘Was it me? Tell me it was me.’ He demands, his hand dropping from your mouth to your throat, wrapped around tightly grasping at the column of your neck.

‘I-I Uhm’ your reply coming out as nonsense. He was right, you had been thinking of him. You’d seen his physique while sunbathing, sneaking a glance when you believed no one would notice. But now with his hand wrapped around your neck and his body pressing into yours your mind was blank.

‘Answer me’ he demands, hand tightening as his face grows ever closer to yours. At this distance you swear you can almost see the moonlight shining through the window reflecting off of his blue eyes, glimmering at you.

‘You.. it was you’ you stutter out quietly, your words shocking even you as they come out breathy and quiet.

‘What a good girl you’ve been for me’ he says, his grip loosening on your throat as he glides his index finger down your cheek.

‘Bu-but how did you.. where.. what’ you question, a full sentence becoming too much for your brain to handle, but the man on top of you seems to have gotten the gist of your line of questioning.

‘I’ve been watching you’ he replies. ‘You and your little map. Wandering around like you own the place’ his words laced with venom. ‘I’ll admit you did make it harder for me. You thought you were so smart checking everywhere, you never bothered to check within your own room’. He continues as your eyes fight with the dark, darting around every corner of the room. That’s when you spot it, the light reflecting off of the mirror slightly wrong, it was almost as if the glass was rippling, the reflection always seeming a little off, it was a two way mirror. From the spot where it was mounted on the wall, you realised that it was pushed slightly further than usual, the story all making sense in your mind suddenly. You hadn’t been imaging things, you had heard footsteps inside the room, someone was watching you, Oliver.

‘Our rooms share a serving corridor as these old houses do sometimes’ he says as if it was an obvious fact, something everyone would know. He could see a million questions whirling behind your eyes, snapping you out of your thoughts as his soft fingers against your cheek suddenly turn into a slap, grasping your face turning your lips into a pout. ‘Now, I know what you do to sleep and I took the liberty of removing the batteries from your useless little toy there’ he sneers at you, you can almost feel his smirk against your lips as he comes in closer. This was nothing like the man you had vaguely come to know over the last few weeks, he was mean, cruel even and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you admitted that you liked it, you loved this version of Oliver. ‘I thought, just maybe if you’d get impatient enough you’d come to me yourself. But the little miss never came’ he continues, finding himself amusing at his own pun. ‘So I came to you’ putting extra emphasis on his words to make a point as to almost poke at you. ‘Now, I can either leave and go back to my room or I can help you with your predicament. Would you like that?’ He questions, still holding your face in his hands ensuring you look straight into his eyes as your head nods, partially guided by Oliver’s hand moving your face for you. ‘Good girl’ he places a light peck onto your lips. ‘The former was never really an option anyway, did you really think I could leave all this now that I have you here?’ His question sounding more like a statement, he didn’t care about your answer, he decided you belonged to him the moment he stepped into the room. His hand slips from your face, grasping your throat once more before climbing further onto the bed, throwing the covers off of you and pushing your night dress up.

He sighs, the view of you almost making him cum on the spot. Oliver never imagined he’d actually do it, sure he’d thought of the thousand ways he could take you, he wanted to bend you over and fuck your brains out over the breakfast table every morning for the last month and now, in this single sigh he released a months worth of frustration. His desperate hands kneading at the supple flesh of your thighs, roaming up to where he was at his most desperate for you. The moment the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit a jolt of electricity raced through your body, moving you with a shocked flinch against the bed. His eyes bore into yours as if almost warning you to stay still, a warning you would absolutely heed. His eyes transfixed on yours as his thumb swirled around your sensitive nub, gathering slick from your entrance just to return to your clit, your climax building from the moment he touched you. You were almost there, your peak was in sight you could feel it building when he tore his hand from you. A smirk pressed against his lips as he bent down to kiss you, he was proud, he ruined your orgasm and he was proud of it. Just as you settled into the lack of his touch, his lips hovering against yours he plunged his fingers into you, without warning a loud gasp leaving your lips. You knew you’d fucked up the moment the sound left your mouth, his fingers being pulled from you once more.

‘Good girls stay quiet, do you understand me? We wouldn’t want the rest of them finding out how much of a whore you are now would we?’ He sneers, your heart rate increasing as you nod your head again. ‘Such a good girl for me. I’ll make sure to reward you, just stay quiet for me’ he continues, his words softer this time as his fingers return to your warm, wet entrance.

It was harder to stay quiet than you expected. His pace was relentless and now as he kissed down your body, your night dress torn from you and the remaining scrap of fabric now discarded to the floor, the want to moan for him was overwhelming. This was only made worse when his lips wrapped around your sensitive mound. His tongue and fingers moving at the same time, sucking on your most sensitive parts like a man starved. He was desperate for you and now, you were for him. You couldn’t resist it and he could tell, your climax was imminent as you rocked your hips against his mouth. From watching you he knew that you covered your mouth with your hand or bit down onto your fist when you came in an attempt to muffle the sounds. To compensate for this, at the moment your shaking orgasm rippled through your body he shoved his fingers into your mouth, the taste of your own juices heavy on your tongue as he suckled and licked you through your peak, his eyes still fixed on yours.

You thought that was it, he said he wanted to help you and he had, you’d half expected him to leave when he tore his own shirt over his head, pushing his boxers down his thighs as he pushes your legs further open with the weight of his own body. With one hand next to your head and his other white knuckle grasping his cock he glided his length through the slick of your pussy. His lustful gaze had left yours now, favouring watching his tip spread you wide for him. Just as your eyes left his face to watch the sight between your legs you were interrupted. ‘Look at me’ he demands ‘I want to see the look on your face when I split you open’ his words being of continuous shock to you, where had your quiet kind man gone?

Although you’d hate to say he was correct, he was. Even with your drenched hole and your legs spread wide for him the burn as he entered you was real. He was unbelievably thick and long, his length impaling you again and again as he begins thrusting into you relentlessly. He was as desperate for release as you were, maybe you should have known, your sweet man in his full right mind would surely never break into your room and do this to you if he wasn’t desperate you reassured yourself. This can’t be the real him after all, it had to be an act.

These thoughts stayed with you for merely seconds as your eyes rejoined his as they flutter open, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan just like his. As if you could both feel the sound about to release your lips came crashing together, muffling the sound of your joint moans as his tongue slips into your month. It was a dirty, sinful act and you loved every second of it. You’d never felt this desperate for anyone in your life. You wanted him to cum inside you, breed you and make you his.

‘Once I cum inside you, you’re mine. Do you understand? I fucking own you’ he says, making you question if he has a future in a career in mind reading. He doesn’t wait for an answer taking the feeling of your walls tightening around his length as the only reply he would ever need again.

His pace quickens his body pressed against yours as his hand clasps over your mouth silencing you, your head held still as he glares into your eyes. You can feel it, his climax nearing, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic as he breaks his own rule, groaning loudly into your kiss as he cums within you, his liquid filling you to the brim. The sound reverberates against the walls, someone must have heard that you think as he continues to fill you up. Just as you think he’d stopped, almost possessively he begins to move again. The feeling overwhelming both of your senses as he fucks his cum further into you before pulling out and repeating the same process with his fingers, watching a little bit trickle out before pushing it back inside you once more.

‘You’ll keep this inside you, you understand? You don’t get to clean yourself up’ he demands. ‘You’ll be a good girl for me tomorrow, at 10pm sharp you’ll get into the bath across the hall and wait for me. Got it?’ His demands continue as he places one last harsh kiss onto your lips, your eyes flickering closed for only a second, re opening when your kiss has parted. Just like that he was gone. His clothes, every part of him had left you almost without a trace. Your night dress torn on the floor you ponder how you’ll explain that to the maids in the morning as they’ll have to fix it. You cover yourself with the blanket again, your head pressed against the pillow as you finally go to sleep, the best you’ve slept in 21 days.

Part 2

Message to be added to the tag list! - current tag list: @idontevenknow1359

#oliver quick #oliver quick smut #barry keoghan #salt burn #saltburn #barry keoghan smut #druig x female reader #druig x y/n #druig smut #druig x reader #druig imagine #druig fanfiction #Barry keogan x reader #saltburn smut #saltburn fanfiction #michael gavey smut #oliver quick fanfic #felix catton #jacob elordi #farleigh start

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

“You’ve always been mine”

With Leona malleus lilia and Vil?

Leona Kingscholar:

Was Leona always such a possessive person, or was it you that turned him this way? It was a thought he flipped around in his head from time to time, when he had no other things to brood about or concern himself with. The reason your relationship had even been a secret was because Leona didn’t want to deal with his family's questions, not until he himself was sure of what you were and whether you’d be around long enough he’d have to go through the trouble of introducing you. He considered you not being the last person who caught his eye, but he knew it was foolish; when he thought of you the word ‘mine’ repeated in his head like an endless mantra, making his feelings on your relationship quite clear. He wondered if you really knew how he thought of you, if you thought this relationship was just something casual, and he couldn’t wait to memorize the look on your face when he finally told you ‘you’ve always been mine’.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia had never thought he’d fall in love again, that his heart would mend from the pain of the past and he’d be able to feel the comfort in knowing he had someone to come home to. It was a relationship that took time, but even Lilia had known from the day you first spoke that you were someone fascinating, someone who had captivated him with just their voice. He was teasing, poking and prodding, getting the answers to questions he didn’t even know he asked; hearing the way you talked about love, the sparkles in your eyes as you dreamed of a grand romance, it brought a sparkle back to his, too. He wanted to give you that life, those sweet moments, to travel together and see the world and hear all your thoughts on the happenings around you. You sheepishly admitted that you had a crush on him from the start, thinking he might be upset that you weren’t on the same page with what your relationship was, but Lilia could only chuckle at that. He’d press a kiss to your nose before teasing that you’d always been his, even before he knew he loved you.

Malleus Draconia:

There are moments where you come to him, when he’s almost inconsolably sad or so angry lightning scorched the earth around him, that made him want to hoard you away from the world. Your heart was too big, too wonderful a thing to be tainted by the outside, by the hatred the poisons the minds of others to the unknown. Malleus had known you were his soulmate from the moment he laid eyes on you, the chains that locked you to him never allowing you to go too far. And while you loved him, while you weren’t afraid of him, you were still intimidated by the attention that his title brought. The concept of ruling a kingdom, or your differing lifespans, it caused you to avert your eyes from him. Patience had never been his strong suit but in his life, he had nothing but time; as someone with significantly less, he knew you’d come to your own conclusion long before he started getting restless. Malleus’ mere presence was a simple reminder, the way he made your knees weak with just a look, how he could sweep you away from an important event without you even getting mad at him, you knew as well as he did that your heart had always belonged to him.

Vil Schoenheit:

Your heart is pounding in your chest as Vil approached you, the sleek look he chose for the evening stealing your breath away; his confident strut, his head held high, he was the one who deserved the title ‘fairest of them all’. Vil had always known he was a showstopper, he had worked hard to get to where he was and continued to work hard to maintain it, but he was aware of the way others looked at him. As a typecast villain, or just a pretty face, never quite seeing past the surface to the complicated human underneath. Your eyes had always been the most piercing, regardless of your initial intimidation of his presence or the nervousness you exuded whenever he flirted with you, he knew you were a person who he could truly rely on. While dating outside of NRC was not the first thing on his mind you had always stayed in touch; he would have respected if you moved on, not wanting to wait for a man who might never actually settle, but there was a part of him that knew you wouldn’t. As he held your chin between his perfectly manicured fingers, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, he can’t help but think about how you had always been his, from the moment you laid eyes on each other.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Vil Schoenheit #Malleus Draconia #Leona Kingscholar #Lilia Vanrouge #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Lilia Vanrouge x Reader

[astrow1zar6]

Astro Observations-014

If you wanna date someone who’s basically impossible to get to know date a Scorpio moon. I find they really don’t trust anyone. Not even close friends that have known them for years. Any sign of betrayal even if it’s small will cause this sign to never tell you certain things again. You guys need to realize not everyone is trying to hurt you.

A lot of Scorpio Venus’s/mars grew up seeing a lot of jealousy & manipulation from relationship’s (mostly from family) they normally pick up from this and carries it to their relationships.

Libra placements will flirt with people they have no interest in for attention. They break a lot of hearts. They act like they aren’t aware they do it but they definitely are. Y’all can’t mess with ppls feeling like that 😕

Aquarius sun women are either really popular and social or really outcasted and antisocial

Aquarius moons can be really mean when people become too emotional around them. I believe tho ironically this is the most emotional Aquarius placement. They hate dealing with others emotions because their emotions are so deep themselves that dealing with other’s problems can become too overwhelming.

Pisces risings are so secretive about their romantic relationships (Libra in 8th house) most people never know who they’re dating or talking too. They prefer a private love life.

Aquarius Venus’s are fashion icons. They can make some of the weirdest pieces look so expensive

Sagittarius and Geminis are the most compatible pair of opposites imo. I’ve seen these signs stay together for soooo long

Leo moons have the least confidence out of all the leo placements I noticed. They are really sensitive and the smallest ounce of disapproval can break these people. Be gentle with them plz🥺

Virgo suns all look so clean, they also smell like heaven too (ESPECIALLY with a Leo Venus) they all give princess vibes.

People with a 12th house taurus value stability sooo much but can never seem to settle their restless nature. This is one of their biggest challenges (cuz of their Gemini rising)

Whatever element you lack in your chart you’re more likely to find people that have that element. Ex: if you lack water placements, you’ll be more attracted to water dominants because they give you what you lack in a way.

Capricorn risings usually hate their smiles, even if there’s nothing wrong with it. A lot feel like their smile ruins their face.

When you have a lot of 12th house placements people normally make assumptions about you that aren’t even close to who you actually are.

Pisces men are the most confusing in a relationship you never know if they actually like you or not. They are so charming and lovey but deep down it feels kinda fake?

Taurus mars work the best when they are working with their hands or they’re working in nature

Virgo mercury’s are amazing writers and usually love reading. Many can be successful novelists.

I feel like the least compatible compatible signs are Taurus and Virgo. I’ve seen the spark die so quick in these relationships and they normally stay together because it “works” practically. But I notice they get more irritated with each-other as time goes.

I notice men that have a lot of kids from different women have a Jupiter in their 5th house. Or just a lot of 5th house placements.

Venus in 5th housers tend to have more girls than boys. Their first child was probably a girl. Also indicates very attractive children.

#astro observations #astrologist #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astroblr

[bayjaruchel]

Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

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Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

－－－

It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation. 

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation. 

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness. 

Yeah. Heads, plural. 

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself. 

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis. 

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—  

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks. 

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both. 

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be." 

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."  

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste." 

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.  

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement." 

"Expensive wine?" 

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it." 

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?" 

He snorts. "Too classy." 

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights. 

"Cheap beer it is, then." 

Clapton's grin is back. 

"Unfortunately." 

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks? 

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in. 

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in? 

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse. 

"Four minutes," he echoes. 

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead. 

"Yeah." 

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet. 

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time." 

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows—  you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left. 

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?" 

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up. 

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check." 

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?" 

Clapton raises his eyebrows again. 

There's a shift in the air. 

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?  

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though. 

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do. 

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it. 

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?" 

He definitely already knows the answer to that question. 

"Yeah, you don't." 

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor— 

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"  

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat. 

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half— 

"Just do it," you breathe.   

And he does. 

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient. 

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower— 

There's a loud series of knocks at the door. 

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips—  but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet. 

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open. 

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s. 

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper: 

"Wanna go upstairs?" 

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree. 

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles. 

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times. 

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him. 

"You think?" 

He grins. "Sure do." 

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in. 

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough. 

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted. 

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—" 

"Go ahead," you interrupt.  

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time. 

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.  

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt. 

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles. 

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.  

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops. 

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?" 

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."  

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna." 

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.  

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever. 

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"  

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?" 

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?" 

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry." 

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that." 

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements. 

"In your—?" 

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"  

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you. 

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?" 

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright." 

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off. 

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips. 

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do — 

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —" 

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time. 

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but— 

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter: 

"Don't hold back." 

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard. 

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — " 

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this. 

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— " 

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"    

"Fuck— "  You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom—  but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes— 

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato. 

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh. 

He mimics it, and you glance down at him. 

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not. 

"We should get cleaned up or something." 

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something." 

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine." 

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states. 

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway. 

It's silent, before he interjects: 

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?" 

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection. 

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want." 

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … " 

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds. 

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you." 

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause. 

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind. 

"You wanna get out of here?" 

He beams. 

#clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #clapton davis imagines #clapton davis smut #josh hutcherson x reader

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Take Your Boat Card, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Rafe continues to make their Spring Break interesting with his bucket list item.

A/N: This was suggested by the lovely @mellillasstuff, who I love to talk about Drew Starkey with! I hope you like it, Babe. The gif is special for you.

Masterlist

They spent the day in Mykonos, Greece and now, the yacht is drifting to Turkey. Their last Spring break of their lives is coming to an end in a few days and Y/N and Rafe are trying to make the most of it. Rafe sees this trip as the perfect opportunity to fulfill a bucket list item for him. “Come on. Let me take your boat card, Angel,” he begs, walking over to her on the bed. She shakes her head with a giggle, “That isn’t a thing, Rafe. Plus, we literally had sex this morning on this boat, so if it was a thing, then you’ve already taken it.” “It’s not the same. It’s not boat sex unless it is on the top deck and out in the open,” Rafe argues. He jumps into bed with her, making the mattress bounce under both of them. Her hand finds his cheek, “What kind of weird fraternity shit are you making up, Rafe?” He kisses the palm of her hand. “It’s not a weird fraternity thing. It’s… it’s kinda a fantasy of mine. Making love to my angel under the stars in the middle of nowhere with the sound of the waves keeping us company. It’s just you and me.” She, of course, wants to help him achieve his fantasy and it honestly sounds so romantic, but she can’t shake the feeling of being caught by a crewmate.

“Rafe, as nice as that sounds, what if we get caught.”

“Don’t worry, Angel. We are the only ones on the boat. I got the crew to take a boat out to the land for the night. They’ll be back in the morning to take us to our next city. If you really don’t want to do it, then that’s okay but I just thought it would be fun.” 

“I’m a little scared for our safety that no one can take drive the yacht, but I think it would be really fun too. I hope you have a captain’s hat because you are about to take my boat card.”

———

Y/N’s fingers graze the bottom of her dress, taking confident steps up the stairs. “Captain, how much longer until we reach port?” she calls out as innocently as she can. Rafe looks over his shoulder at her with a captain’s hat on his head, “A few more hours, Ms. Y/L/N. Is there something I can help you with?” Her arms swing from in front of her to behind and she walks towards him. “That’s so long… I don’t know how I’m going to fix my problem,” she laments, bringing her hand to play with her hair. 

“Well, what’s your problem? Maybe I can help.”

“I don’t know… Captain. It’s kinda an intimate issue.”

“Come on, Angel. You can trust me. I’m the ship’s Captain.” 

Her hands move up his chest, meeting around his neck. She grows impatient with this game and starts to unbutton his white shirt. “You’re restless tonight, Angel,” Rafe chuckles, bringing his hand to rest on her bum. She nods, “Very, something about that hat is doing something to me.” “Wow. Never thought my angel would be turned on by a man in uniform,” he teases. His hand moves up her bum to untie the bow of her dress while she begins peppering his bare chest with kisses. His fingers lace through her hair, pulling her back from his skin. They look at each other with a grin. “I can’t keep playing this game anymore, Captain. I just need to feel you,” she mutters. He brings his lips to hers and pulls her dress off of her body, “Me either.” Once the cool ocean breeze meets her skin, Rafe walks her backwards toward the couch. The back of her knee meets the cool leather and she lies down with him on top of her. 

He kisses her on the lips, moving his hand down the valley of her breast to the top of her underwear. He grins to himself when he sees the moon glint off of his Greek letters that have been resting between her boobs since their sophomore year. A finger delicately lifts the fabric and continues its descent until it meets the wetness of her pussy. “Is this all for Captain Rafe, Angel?” She nods her head, itching for him to keep going. “Nuh-uh. Angel, you know I like it when you use words,” he tsks and removes his hand from where she needs it. 

“Captain, please. Touch me,” she begs, grabbing his wrist to bring his touch back. He growls at her words, “Enough of this Captain shit. I want you to be screaming my name to the sea, Angel.” He takes the bill of his hand in his hand and throws it somewhere on the deck without another thought. It’s one of the reasons she doesn’t have a nickname for him. It wasn’t for lack of trying when they first started to date. Rafe is so possessive of her that the thought of her calling him anything other than his name drives him to become the green-eyed monster. He pulls down her underwear and throws it with his hat, getting to work on making her feel good. His head buries between her legs, lapping up the mess he created. “Oh god, Rafe. This feels so good,” she moans at her normal level. Rafe always encouraged her to be as loud as possible, teaching her to not care about the other frat brothers, who might hear her sweet melody.

“Angel, you can be louder. There is no one around,” he reasons. She listens to his words and screams as loud as she can to please him. His mouth works on her clit as his fingers enter her hole. They curl to hit her G-spot and she tugs at his hair to get him to keep going. He quickly moves his fingers in and out of her. With every move of his finger, it brings her closer to her orgasm. Her fingers pull at the root of his hair and that’s how he knows she is about to cum. He pulls his fingers out of her, causing a whine to leave her lips. “Nope. Sorry, Angel. You are coming around my dick tonight,” he informs.

He stands up to pull off his shirt and his hand removes his belt in one fluid motion, which always makes Y/N’s thighs clench together. She sits up to help him take off the rest of his clothes and he lets her. She sinks to her knees in front of him, butt hitting the couch cushion. Her hands begin to pump his length. Saliva pools in her mouth, so she can spit it onto his dick. She slides her hand up and down his dick, listening to his groans. “You are doing so good, Angel,” he praises. His hand finds the back of her head and pushes her onto him. She takes him into her mouth, letting him hit the back of her throat. A hand remains at the base to pump what isn’t going in her mouth. She pulls herself off of him, so she can circle her tongue around his tip. She can taste his pre-cum. He decides he is hard enough for her and brings her back up so she is facing him. He lies her down on the couch again, kissing her lips. The mixture of their juices makes both of them want to moan. 

She watches as he brings a hand down to his cock to bring the tip to her vagina. He enters her inch by inch to let her have time to adjust. He has no more to offer her and waits for her to tell him to begin his thrust. “Please start, Rafe,” she states, bringing her forehead to his. His hips move back so just the tip is still inside of her and then eases them back down to meet the top of her pelvic bone. They normally like their sex fast and hard, but the moment felt right for something slower. He repeats the motion, enjoying the way her arms round his back to mark it up.

She may be his angel, but she has nails like the devil. He can feel the dig of her nails as she drags it down his back in an attempt to bring him closer. Being chest-to-chest with him doesn’t feel like enough to her, so she rounds her legs around his waist and helps meet his thrusts. It feels like the sounds of the skin slapping against each other and their groans echo out to the sea, yet she knows it is all in her head. She brings his hips in faster during his next thrust with her feet. He gets the message and deepens his thrust, feeling the way she begins to cling to him as she does. With her walls squeezing him, he knows he isn’t going to last long. Determined to make her climax first, he brings his hand down to her bud and starts to rub it in a circle. Y/N’s orgasm washes over her with his help. The feeling of her cumming around him causes him to twitch his seeds into her. He continues his gentle thrusts to ride out their high, stilling once they are both done. 

He slips out of her and lies beside her. She turns to face him, bringing his arms over her. He tightens his hold on her and gives her a kiss to the temple. “I don’t think roleplay is for us,” he observes, thinking back to how they didn’t last very long in the charade. She giggles with a nod of her head, “Yeah. I’m too impatient and you are too possessive to let me call you anything else other than your name. But I’m glad you convinced me to do this. I enjoyed giving each other our boat cards.” 

“I hate to have to tell you this, Angel. But I don’t have my boat card.” 

“Wait, if I’m not taking your boat card, does that mean you’ve done this before?”

“I’m from the Outer Banks, Angel. What do you think?

Taglist: @loves0phelia

#let me angel #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron smut #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #obx fanfiction #outerbanks #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outer banks rafe #obx #obx fanfic #obx imagine #obx fic

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ zayne x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : softdom!zayne, husband!zayne x wife!reader, reader has body insecurities and negative thoughts, kissing, heavy petting, body worship, praise and reassurance, nipple play, clit play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, soft sex, slight dirty talk, slight cursing, use of pet names "sweetheart" "snowflake", lmk if i missed any tags !! ((unedited))

wc : 5.4k

youtiful masterlist

You couldn't sleep.

It was late; later than late—you knew that once Zayne got home, you would definitely be reprimanded for your sleeping habits again.

But how could you sleep like this?

The day had kept you restless.

Tara had proposed another one of her gala nights this afternoon, having practically spammed your texts with an invite for next week. She was quite adamant in this one, considering it was the only time that everyone seemed to be free enough at the same time, and of course, it went without saying that you were invited. But Tara wanted it to be extra special—to make up for all the lost time, and to make the most of the moment, because who knew when you all could get together like that again?

And you couldn't really argue with her on the matter; she had a good point. Though Tara and you saw each other often enough, both being the senior hunters that you were, schedule clashes were becoming more and more common. Suffice to say, it was even harder for the two of you to get ahold of the other girls you'd become close friends with over the years. Adulting was hard, sometimes.

So naturally, this was, as she put it, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one worthy of a little extra—and while exaggerated, in typical Tara fashion, you could definitely see where she was coming from.

You wanted to meet with the girls, just as much as she did.

But formal events had never been your favorite.

Earlier in the afternoon, you had spent your lunch break with Tara in favor of scouring for the perfect new outfit for that night out. "Window shopping only, for now, of course!" she had said, none too keen on spending right from the get go, but excited to scan all the options nonetheless. And perhaps, you, too, had been excited along with her—Tara's energy was always contagious, and she knew exactly how to string people along with her in all of her happy-go-lucky skip-throughs. But soon enough, you were quickly reminded as to why you disliked formal events so ardently.

It was the clothes.

While many girls you knew jumped at the prospect of dressing up a little fancier, it was hard for you to love—you never saw yourself as someone with a body shape that could easily fit into these fancy clothing, and you had always been jealous of the girls around you that did. You weren't exempt from the same desire to dress up, of course, but—it was simply harder to enjoy when it has only ever caused your confidence to dwindle.

You, yourself, had never really voiced out your insecurities.

You didn't know if the girls knew, nor if Tara had figured out why you were so hesitant to try things on with her.

But whether or not you spoke about it or showed it at all, it did nothing to change the reality that those thoughts were there.

In truth, you hated it.

Despised it.

You never thought yourself to look good in those form-fitting clothing; never thought yourself to look good in a dressed up skirt. If anything, it was hard for you to feel comfortable in such clothing at all—and shopping for them was always a pain.

You wanted to meet with the girls.

You did, you really did.

But suddenly Tara's little cocktail dinner party was more daunting to you than you'd have liked it to be.

Naturally, by the end of your little mall adventure, Tara had found herself a few options to go back, revisit and, perhaps, buy for that very night... While you remained blank on your choices.

The mere thought had you sinking even deeper into the duvets, never more grateful for the fact that you were covered and unseen under the thickness of them.

Your mind was simply racing too much.

You, too, wished you could just sleep all of your thoughts away, and maybe,  maybe, the morning will be more bearable.

...If only.

You haphazardly brought the duvet over your head, burying yourself completely hidden under them, and let out a whine.

Zayne would probably be home in a few moments.

He would see you like this, very much wide awake despite all his texts having insisted you not to wait up for him, already on the verge of crying from the sheer intensity of your less-than-welcome thoughts.

You didn't know how much he knew of all this, either.

Though you had been together for a couple years, married for roughly one—the topic had simply never come up. You hadn't explicitly told him anything about it; you'd simply managed enough through all the other formal events you'd had to attend.

You didn't want to be a baby.

In the end, you knew that this would pass, and you would get through it just fine like you always did—

Only that, somehow, today, it was worse than all the other days.

The thought of trying to get through this like you normally would only made your heart churn with discomfort, tears welling up in your eyes unwarranted.

Fuck.

Your lips quivered.

You didn't want to cry.

Zayne would be getting home from a long day.

He would be tired.

He would want to sleep.

He had an equally early start to the next day, and you couldn't—

You couldn't possibly bother him with petty problems you could solve on your own.

You always have, anyway, right?

Why should now be any different?

You heard the door click gently, followed soft, careful footsteps padding the floor to the room—

The minute the doorknob turned and you could vaguely make out the brief flicker of light, you shut your eyes tightly and turned to the side.

You had to sleep.

You had to sleep.

You swallowed thickly as you heard the faint rustle of fabric, the lightest clink of a hanger meeting its clothesrail, and the shifting of weight on the mattress.

Though you were under the blankets, you could feel the telltale warmth of your husband beside you, enough for it to have some form of comcort wash over you in an instant.

Perhaps, too much comfort.

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, and you drew in a careful, shaky breath.

Of course, Zayne, of all people, would never miss the slightest of cues from you.

"Sweetheart?"

There was a soft murmur of his voice over the top of your head, and you felt the duvet being slowly peeled off of.

There was a rush of cooler air over your face, and Zayne's arms wrapped around you, pulling your body closer to his.

...Ah, shit, you instantly surrendered, knowing there would be no way to play it off, only willing for those stupid tears in your eyes to magically disappear.

"You're awake, aren't you? It's not healthy to sleep under the blankets like that."

His voice was soft, and gentle, and he placed a light kiss into your hair.

You swallowed thickly.

"H-how was your shift...?"

You winced internally, thinking the waver in your voice was already a very telltale sign.

And as you were met with momentary silence, you figured you had been right.

Zayne shifted around, gently pulling you backwards against him, just enough for him to see your face.

And the moment your eyes locked, it was almost as if you couldn't take it anymore.

His lime-green eyes regarded your own with concern, and affection, and love—

It was almost as if all and any emotions swimming restlessly in your heart overflowed in an instant, and you couldn't think to stop the tears from falling. Choked sobs edged their way out of your throat, completely ignoring the horror at your sheer inability to control your own emotions.

You were so... pitiful. So pathetic.

You'd promised yourself you wouldn't cry in front of him over this, and yet, here you were.

Insult after insult swirled adamantly in your head as you turned, burying your face into his chest, desperately searching to anchor yourself in his warmth.

"What is it, snowflake? Are you unwell? What's wrong?" He murmured into your hair, soft, soothing rubs against your back, holding you tight against him—and you didn't feel like you deserved any of it. You wanted yo shy away from his gaze, from his touch—but the mere thought of such irrationality had you sobbing harder, berating yourself for even daring to doubt him at all.

You shivered in his arms, shaking your head, willing yourself to calm down.

And, perhaps, to you, there was no greater comfort than having him here with you.

Despite the conflicts in your mind—whether or not you were deserving of all of his affection—Zayne, and his sweet whispers of comfort, his reassuring squeezes, his loving caresses... Time and time again, you would never fail to find solace in his arms.

Now was no different.

Zayne always had that effect on you, and, perhaps, you wondered if maybe you should have considered opened up to him about this much sooner.

Now, at least, it was enough for you to steady your breaths, eyes closing, your own arms shifting to hug him back.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," he said, running a hand through your hair, soothing you through your sniffles. "It's bad to go to bed with negative feelings. Won't you tell me what's wrong?"

He didn't push you away, nor egg you to look back up at him, but you could easily hear the concern in his voice.

You shut your eyes tightly.

"...But you're tired," you whispered. "It's silly, Zayne..."

"It is not silly, not if it can make you cry."

This time, he brought his hand to your cheek, caressing it gently, and you tilted your head upwards to meet his gaze. "I didn't see you all day, snowflake," he nuzzled your forehead. "What happened to make you so upset while I've been absent?"

You pouted, already feeling another set of tears prick at your eyes, though you blinked them away rapidly.

"I... I missed you," you said quietly. And it was the truth, just not—all of it. It wasn't as if you planned on lying to him—what kind of a wife would you be if you did?

But you wouldn't have known where to start on this otherwise.

It was still true, anyway.

You'd missed his presence; you almost wished you had spent your lunch break with him like you normally did, and, perhaps, that way you wouldn't be feeling so down in the dumps like this.

But what was done was done.

"I missed you, too, sweetheart." He brushed the tears away from your face, and leaned down to place his lips on your temple, causing you to close your eyes at the gentleness in his every action. "But it's more than that, isn't it?"

Ah, a faint, barely-there smile made its way to your face. Zayne always knew you so well.

You let out a sigh, feeling yourself move in to chase his lips, hopeful for a more proper kiss that you had, in fact, been missing for most of the day.

While he allowed you to steal one, his eyes were expectantly searching yours.

You faltered, like you always did.

"...There's... a cocktail party next week..." You started quietly, moving to lay back on your back, eyes focusing on the ceiling above. "Tara planned it just this afternoon. A girls' outing."

"Did she? It's been a while since you've had those."

"...Yeah."

You turned to look at him, another tiny pout forming on your lips. "I just... I don't know if I want to go..." You leaned into his touch when he brought his hand back to cup your cheek, a familiar, comforting action he would often do with you.

"If you don't, then you shouldn't," he spoke matter-of-factly.

You let out a soft laugh.

It was a very Zayne-typical answer.

"Right, because it's always that simple," you rolled your eyes playfully. "...I wish it was, anyway. Zayne, I haven't seen them in forever..."

"Forever would be an exaggeration..."

You could almost hear the frown in his voice, but for a while, you didn't say anything else.

"...Sweetheart?"

Another gentle squeeze of your arm, and your eyes searched his, feeling your throat close up at truly admitting the source of your problems.

But you should, right? This was... communication. The both of you had always valued it; you couldn't just... go back on your own promises to him.

...It might have made you hate yourself more if you did.

"Zayne... I— I want to, but..."

You paused, taking in a deep breath, averting your gaze once more. Your lips quivered again, and Zayne's immediate reaction was to give you another soft, gentle kiss. Now, you could only close your eyes, focusing instead on the lingering feeling of having his lips upon yours, if only to keep yourself from breaking into tears yet again.

"I-I don't feel like I... Like my body very much, these days..." Your voice came out barely a whisper. "It's a formal event, right? Fancy dresses and all that... I went window-shopping with Tara today, and, I—"

Your breath got caught in your throat, and you shook your head, moving once more to bury yourself into his chest.

"I don't know, Zayne... Maybe, I think I just feel—hard to love, right now, or something. And it's so stupid. I know that you love me, I know that the girls do, and I've never questioned it, I just—I don't feel like I'm pretty enough to be loved, and..."

You clutched him tightly as more of your tears seemed to fall without your consent at all, your own heartbeat thrumming wildly in your ears just painfully hyperaware of just how pathetic you were being.

And you've been feeling pretty darn pathetic for virtually the entire day.

You really couldn't tell if crying was making you feel any better, either—you'd held it together this whole day up until now, but each and every time you spoke, it was almost as if the tears wouldn't stop. Even as he sighed into your hair, even as he hald you close, even with his soft, feathery kisses over the top of your head.

"Don't cry, snowflake," he murmured, gently rubbing your back. "Here, breathe with me. Relax, alright, sweetheart?"

You swallowed your sobs, settling slowly into whimpers and then slowly into hiccups, focusing on the steady movements of his palm against the silk of your nightgown.

"That's it. Breathe, okay?"

You sniffled as you looked up, pouting visibly, and he reached over to wipe your tears away once more, shifting to press his forehead against yours.

"Sweetheart. Have you been feeling this way for some time now?"

His eyes were intense. They carried within them was an emotion you couldn't quite place. It was almost as if it had swirled into a complicated mix, almost as if desperate to pull you out of your self-deprecating reverie; only giving way to a certain kind of sorrow when you feebly nodded your head.

"Oh, snowflake," he whispered, and the genuine regret that was laced into his voice made your heart thrum. "If only you had told me sooner."

"...M'sorry, Zayne..."

"Why do you apologize? I only wish to make you feel loved. Because I do love you. And I think you are the most beautiful, beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon."

His words felt weighty on your heart, nd you had to swallow down, for the nth time that night, that very same desire to cry.

"...Zayne..."

This time, he kissed you—soft, and slow, and gentle; not unlike most of his kisses, but laced with a certain passion that almost seemed to drown out all the fragments of disdain still in your mind. His hand moved up to your hair, his other drawing you even closer against him, the heat from his skin becoming ever more noticeable to you.

When you pulled back from his kiss, eyes dazed and mildly breathless, he traced his fingers over your face—from your eyes, to your nose, to your mouth, to your jaw... And down, over your collarbone, over the skin of your upper arm.

"You are beautiful, sweetheart," he repeated. And he stroked your arm, never once taking his eyes off of you.

For the first time that night, you thought—yeah. Maybe I am beautiful.

His hand, then, moved from your arm over to your clothed breast, grazing over the exposed skin peeking out of your now-disheveled nightgown, before trailing down to your stomach—and your hips—and your thigh—

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes moving downwards to watch as his hnd repeated the same motions, steadily feeling yourself relax into the lull of his caresses.

"Your hips," he mumbled. "Your stomach... your thighs... your arms... your breasts..." Zayne leaned over to kiss the tip of your nose, offering you the smallest of smiles. "Your cheeks. Your lips. Your nose, your eyes, your..."

"—Z- Zayne—"

"...Everything." His voice dropped low into a whisper, his hand slipping right between your thighs, brushing a knuckle against your clothed heat.

He nuzzled against you, sighing.

"You're beautiful, my snowflake. And I love every single part of you. Do you understand?"

You could only nod underneath his gaze, staying completely still as he moved his arm down to settle firmly over your waist, his eyes conveying a certain desire that was quite familiar to you.

"...Zayne," you mumbled. "A-aren't you sleepy?"

"No."

"But... You always say it's bad to stay up late..."

He gaze was unwavering; firm, yet expectant. You could feel his thumb rubbing circles into your skin, and when he lened back in to whisper over your lips, you could feel yourself dizzy at his hot breath against you.

"Maybe so," he whispered. "But you are more important right now. And if you would allow me, sweetheart... Then I, as your husbnd, would want nothing more than to show you just how much I love you."

Your breath caught in your throat.

His hand, now, would slide up ever so slowly, tracing the curvature of your spine, and you shuddered—

"Okay," you spoke, breathless, quiet, waiting in anticipation of his movements.

And when he smiled, you thought, truly, you couldn't wish for a more loving husband.

"May I know?" he mumbled as he gently moved the fabric of your gown up above your breasts. "What about your body do you hate so much?"

He stopped when you shivered involuntarily against the cold air on your stomach, subconsciously moving your arms over to cover yourself.

You looked away.

"I understand if you do not want to talk about it. If it's too much, then please, forget I as—"

"...I'm not slim, like the other girls," you cut him off softly.

Zayne's hands gently pried your own away from your stomach, bringing one of them up to kiss at your knuckles.

For a while, there was silence, and you shrunk under his gaze.

What if he also...

"You don't have to be," he interrupted your thoughts with a nod of his head, having finally gathered his thoughts, and his other hand moved back to stroke the side of your waist.

"...But... I-I don't fit well into dresses... My torso is long, and my figure isn't very flattering, my belly fat would show if I—"

He moved lower, this time, to place a trail of kisses from the valley of your breasts down over your navel.

"Z-Zayne..."

"You must understand that I think your figure is very flattering, sweetheart. You've always looked stunning in everything that you've worn. Don't you know how much self-control I must practice whenever I see you?" A smile tugged at his lips, and you almost shivered at the look in his eyes, goosebumps raising on your skin when he snaked his hand over to the plush of your inner thigh. "And I love the way my hands would mold into your skin. They fit so perfectly around your waist, your thigh... So easy for me to hold. Very easy for me to love."

He gave you a squeeze as if to prove his point, but you could only look away almost shamefully. "...But I have scars on my legs," you mumbled. "So wearing short skirts would expose them, and they're—"

"Beautiful."

He bent your leg to kiss your knee, gently brushing his fingers over the marks on your skin.

"They are beautiful."

Zayne shook his head with a sigh, before moving back up to capture your pout into another kiss.

"But—"

"No buts, sweetheart. These are not flaws to be hidden, nor things that you should feel the need to get rid of. They are part of you, and to me, that makes them perfect."

Another kiss, this time by the side of your jawline, and you drew in a breath.

"You are perfect, snowflake."

You felt your skin burn against his touch, and his words made you feel warm and tingly.

"The shape of your face is, too, perfect as it is. In case you were wondering. Just as perfect for me to hold, and just as perfect for me to kiss."

A kiss on your neck, to your collarbone, to your shoulders, down your arm...

"I can only say the same for your arms. So soft. They wrap perfectly around me, did you know that?" He smiled against your skin, before shifting to press you onto your back, caging you between his arms and hovering above you. "And your shoulders sit on you perfectly fine, I hope you don't think of them so badly, either. Frankly, they must be tired from carrying all the burdens you keep from me still..."

You noted the seriousness in his voice, and felt yourself subsequently relax.

"...Zayne, I—"

"Do not apologize. I won't ask for it, and you've nothing wrong. However... you must tell me, next time, sweetheart, whenever you feel like this. Can you promise me that?"

A silence followed, as if you were weighing your words—

And perhaps, you were.

It was never easy for you to speak of this thoughts. You'd think yourself normal if not for all these baseless insecurities, and you'd much prefer to keep them to yourself—

But what had that done? All these years spent holding in your tears, only to break at the slightest prod of your thoughts.

It wasn't as if crying had helped you.

It even made things worse, probably.

And it would do more harm to you if you continued in this unhealthy cycle of bottling things up.

"...You don't mind?" you whispered. "I don't want to bother you... You're always so busy..."

"Oh, sweetheart. I will always have time for you. And I am always here to listen. You understand that, don't you?"

"...I know, but..."

"I am your husband. What husband would I be to ignore your concerns?"

You smiled faintly at that, finally finding in yourself the courage to loosely hook your arms around his neck.

In the end, Zayne was willing to be your confidant. And communication had always been important between the two of you, you knew this well enough—an issue like this shouldn’t be too different from that. Why would you keep such things from him, truly?

"Okay," you nodded, a promise to yourself and a promise to him. "I promise, Zayne."

"Good girl."

His praise, so associated now with certain activities that you had often done, went straight to your core—you almost wanted to hide, despite knowing you had given him consent to do as he wished, but he leaned in for another kiss.

You could feel his smile as he moved his lips against yours, biting gently at your lower lip enough to elicit a gasp.

When he pulled back, the mirth in his eyes was clear, and you jumped as you felt the pad of his thumb graze ever so slightly over your pert nipple.

"Z-Zayne..." you whispered, eyes searching his.

"Do you know what I love the most about your body?"

He spoke against your lips, close enough just to touch, but not quite.

You slowly shook your head no.

"You're always so responsive."

His hand moved to knead at your skin, brushing slightly over your nipple but never quite touching. His eyes fixed upon yours, taking in the way your eyelids would flutter and the way you would instantly shudder at his touch;

"So... expressive. So telling."

You couldn't help the way you whimpered, feeling yourself arch slightly into his hand, eyes closing as he flicked once more against your nipple before pinching it between the pads of his fingers.

The moan he elicited out of you was airy and long, and had you opened you eyes, you would see the way he tilted his head, watching you, observing you. He only continued, of course—rolling it slowly, tugging slightly, feeling the bud get harder between his nimble fingers. It was almost as if he were eager to hear more of you moans, and he would get them instantly.

"You're always so sensitive for me, sweetheart."

Without giving you a chance to react to his words, he dipped his head down, latching his mouth over your other bud, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your arms. Another moan fell from your lips. You felt him gently rub your waist once more to ease you into the pleasure, expertly working you up.

He knew you so well.

You could feel it in the way he pinched and rubbed at you in all the right places, skillfully swirling the tip of the warm muscle over your stinging nipple. You felt his saliva pool from the sides of his mouth and onto your breasts—when he pulled back with a 'pop', you flushed at the way he casually wiped it away, eyes never leaving yours.

"Z-Zayne, really, you..." You were breathless when he spoke, barely getting a chance to collect yourself when he sat up, spreading you open and settling between your legs.

"You're wet, aren't you?" he spoke matter-of-factly, but the look in his eyes told you that he was quite pleased. "Hm, what did I say? So responsive for me."

His hand moved lower.

"Just like the good girl that you always are..."

Lower, lower, digging into the waistband of your panties—

"And you are such..."

Another kiss on your stomach, and he slowly pulled the fabric away.

"A beautiful..."

His eyes dropped to the way your slick pulled with your underwear, a telltale sign of your wetness.

"Good girl."

Zayne moved to swipe a finger over your slit, collecting your arousal and spreading it over to your clit. He raised an eyebrow slightly at you as he did so, taking in the way you would mewl almost instantly;  "So wet for me, my snowflake."

You whimpered, hands reaching out for him, settling only when he tucked you under his chin, easily slipping a finger into your hole.

"Mmh— Zayne..."

Another moan, and he kissed at your hair, gently pumping his finger in and out of you.

"See how perfect you are?" He murmured, and his thumb would press over your clit, gently rubbing in time with the languid thrust of his finger. "The way you wrap around me like this... I could keep my fingers inside of you all night long, sweetheart."

You could feel everything, with the way he took his time with you, exploring every inch of your pussy almost as if committing it to memory. And he was right—he felt perfect inside you, feeling his sighs against the crown of your head everytime he would clench around you.

He slipped another finger in, and you groaned at the stretch.

"Shit, Zayne," you whispered, feeling yourself buck up into his fingers.

"Language, sweetheart."

You almost laughed at his words, had he not quickened his pace, finally moving his head down to bring you into another deep kiss.

You could feel it—the gradual knotting in your stomach, the jolt of pleasure when he rubbed against your sensitive spots.

"Zayne—" You moaned when he pulled back from the kiss, eyes turning hazy. "Zayne, please, I'll cum—"

He peppered kisses over your face, and smiled.

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

You gasped as you climaxed almost as if by command, trembling in your place, eyes wide as you felt the pleasure rip through you intensely. Zayne continued to kiss at your skin, soothing phrases in your ear, gentle caresses over your arm.

"Z-Zayne, I... You...—"

He pressed his cock against your cunt, sighing into your neck.

"One more, sweetheart, okay?" he breathed, teasing your entrance with his tip. "I need to be inside you."

And how could you say no?

You could feel the lust radiating off of him, his chest heaving with remnants of self-control, leaving slow, languid licks on the side of your neck if only to placate himself.

It was rare to see him lose control, but you knew that he would always end up getting like this whenever he would push himself inside you.

He would only get like this with you.

For you.

Your heart jumped, and you nodded, running your hands over his back.

"I can take one more," you mumbled.

Immediately, inch by inch, you felt him sink deep into your cunt, feeling the stretch of your walls to accomodate his length no matter how many times you'd done this.

Your eyes closed as you hissed in pleasure, wrapping your legs around his waist, taking in the way he would gently rut against you. Soft, steady, rocking movements; the bed would creak along with his thrusts in a lull that had your eyelids fluttering closed.

"You take me very well," he groaned from the throat, voice slightly muffled into your neck. "So perfect for me, snowflake... Your pretty pussy around my cock..."

His words sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core, every squeeze of your cunt on eliciting a sharp hiss from his lips.

"Haah... Zayne..."

He made you feel loved.

His cock was snug in your walls, every vein and ridge dragging perfectly against you. You were made for him, and he for you—his low moans were music to your ears, and you hugged him tighter, your chest swelling with warmth.

"I love you," you whispered, bucking your hips up to meet his. "I love you, Zayne... so, so much."

He finally lifted his head, the lustful cloud in his lime-green eyes mixing with overflowing adoration.

"And I love you, sweetheart. More than you think. More than you know."

You'd never felt yourself glow at such words before.

The pace he kept was steady, but the lingering feeling of your previous high had you now moaning unabashedly, feeling yourself getting closer, and closer to another one.

"Please," you whimpered, feeling your nails dig into his back when he angled his thrusts, hitting that spot that had you seeing stars. "Please, Zayne, 'mso close..."

He shuddered at the way you clenched, obliging you with harder, deeper thrusts, adoring the way you would throw your head back in moans of his name.

"Fuck," he cursed, eyes closing, hips stuttering. "Go ahead, sweetheart, 'm right there with you."

You could feel the way he twitched inside of you, thrusts getting faster, more erratic.

"Inside, right?" you breathed, clutching him tightly, almost locking him in place. "Inside, Zayne, please—together—"

He moaned lowly, nearly driving you into the mattress with the force of his thrusts, your words igniting a newfound fervor. "Shit—you'd like that, huh, sweetheart? Want me to fuck a baby in you? You'll be such a beautiful mother, won’t you?"

Your eyes squeezed shut, focusing on the feeling of his cock against your walls, claiming your cunt in the way you liked best. "Yes, yes, yes," you chanted, "please, Zayne—"

You mewled in your release, clenching tightly, feeling him paint your insides white as ropes of his cum spurted deep inside of you.

You held him close, panting, burying your face into his neck.

"I love you," you whispered, repeating your words. "I love you, Zayne. I love you, and thank you... For always being there for me."

He panted as he thrust inside of you once, twice, plugging you full of his spend, before pulling out and kissing you deeply.

"I love you ever more. I will never stop feeling lucky to have you, and I will always be here. I meant it, sweetheart... You'd make a beautiful mother." As you flushed, he pressed a hand against your stomach, and smiled. "For what it's worth, your weight is perfectly healthy. And there is nothing wrong with your body, okay, snowflake?"

"...I know. Thank you, Zayne."

"Would you prefer to go shopping with me, instead? My shift will end earlier tomorrow. I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with you."

This time, you smiled. You snuggled into his embrace, finding solace in his warmth, just as you always did.

"I'd like that a lot."

⁺₊ / an: i ended up combining a couple of requests for this (and the youtiful series as a whole) and finally got around to writing zayne!!! this was incredibly hard to write, i love him INCREDIBLY so, and something about writing him amplifies the need to have it down perfectly 😭

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love & deepspace smut #l&ds #l&ds x reader #l&ds smut #l&ds zayne #zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne smut #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #✿˖°. roxiefic #*ੈ♡. rose garden #divider by mikeykuns #divider by cafekitsune #love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #love & deepspace zayne

[rosesnbooks]

Aries placements

Since we are currently in aries season, i wanted to make a post about some of their placements! Hope you enjoy this post, and I'm looking forward to your feedback♈

❤️sun in aries people are vastly different from one another. not all of them relate to the confident image of someone who has the qualities of a leader. they can be shy and dislike lots of attention and responsibility. but i do think most of them are passionate about the things they love and they like to share these with the ones closest to them. also, they are very curious. there is something innocent about them

🌹moon in aries types show the classic traits of aries people that are known to others. the people i know with this placement have an unmatched temper and intensity. they have strong emotions regarding everything, so they either love or hate certain things. i feel like their mothers went through many difficulties in life, and tried to display their strong character. also, people with this placement have a desire to be more masculine, and less sensitive. they have outbursts of strong emotions, especially anger that gets out of their system as soon as it arises. they will be there for you in good and bad times, and you'll appreciate that. but if you cross them, they won't see you in the same light ever again. i've noticed that they love music or anything in the arts. it gives them immense joy and passion that they cannot always show and explore in their everyday life.

💋rising sign in aries have a strong presence wherever they go and people are quick to form opinions about them. they seem passionate, direct and a bit aggressive. women with this ascendant are seen as femme fatale. men seem a bit restless, opinionated, very masculine, and intimidating to some. their appearances vary, but they have some noticeable facial features that demand your attention (eyes esp., and the nose) they look amazing in black, red, and any loud colors. they have so many facial expressions, and it's quite charming and funny. they are a bit loud sometimes

🎬mercury in aries is an interesting placement. a lot is going on in their heads but it depends on the individual whether they'll show this aspect of their personality to the world or not. they have strong opinions and they are not fans of a gray mindset. i'm not saying they view things in black and white only, but they definitely prefer to be 100% sure in things. they are humorous, but at the same time they take things too seriously lol. they prefer direct people and explaining things clearly and concisely, without beating around the bush. they also like to provoke a bit the people they love, with good intentions ofc. lastly, they have to be careful when talking about sensitive topics, and discussing things with people who are sensitive. they must not be too harsh and "objective" since it can be easy to hurt others this way.

💄venus in aries love fiercely and dislike cold people who aren't ready to pursue them bravely and honestly. if you lack interest and manners, they will cross you off their list pretty quickly. they are lots of fun and want someone similar to them in this aspect. i think they can be really loyal as partners once they find someone who fits their criteria. continuous display of commitment and passion is the way to go with them. they are really sensitive actually, so they want someone that makes them feel safe, and someone who would be patient with their emotions.

❤️‍🔥mars in aries are energetic, full of life, passionate (i cannot help myself, this word describes them in a nutshell), like to take the lead, have various ambitions they need to fulfill. their temper is a bit scary at times, so they need to work on that. i feel as if this placement is not that common. they succeed in whatever they have planned in life because of their ambitious and strong mindset.

🎫jupiter in aries will have lots of luck by working on their confidence, saying how they think and feel instead of bottling up their emotions and ideas. pursuing various hobbies, especially those that involve physical activity. they need to relieve their stress as well. also, being spontaneous and brave could provide happines and new opportunities. focusing some of their big energy toward the people they love is also rewarding. the people around them love their enthusiasm and optimism btw.

💌saturn in aries need to watch out for their impulsive nature that dives head first without giving anything much thought. not only could they hurt themselves in this process, but others around them as well. there are consequences to all of our actions. moreover, there is no need to be shy about taking risks and taking the lead, but it's important to do it the right way. like i've said, confidence is key. by working on themselves, they could become unstoppable.

🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖🌹📖

paid astrology readings

(photos were found on Pinterest)

Don't take anything too seriously since I am not a professional

#rosesnbooks #aries #astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #aries observations #aries zodiac

[stellarbit]

Do Not Look Away

Tech x fem!reader

2.7k words NSFW - eye contact kink, unprotected sex, light dom

Tech never really paid mind to eye contact. Finding you staring him down, however, changed that completely and working him up more than he expected.

Notes: 'Sarad' means flower in Mando'an, cute nickname. This gif makes me feral. Just think of that on top of you.

Tech absorbed the details of his surroundings with a meticulous eye, viewing the world around him as an intricate web of data to be analyzed and understood. Eye contact, though useful for evaluating intentions and planning strategies, wasn't his primary focus.

This preference shifted unexpectedly during a routine briefing in the Marauder. While Hunter and Echo discussed the mission's terrain, and Wrecker and Omega showed their usual enthusiasm, Tech was busy ensuring the mission data on his datapad matched the verbal instructions. Satisfied, he pocketed the device and prepared to give Hunter his full attention.

That’s when he inadvertently met your gaze.

You were watching him intently, your eyes steady and revealing nothing that he could easily interpret. Surprisingly, it was Tech who broke the gaze first, a rare moment of vulnerability for someone so controlled. He quickly looked back, his interest piqued by the challenge you presented, and noticed a small, confident smile playing on your lips. It was slightly disconcerting yet undeniably captivating.

This momentary exchange unsettled Tech in a way he hadn’t anticipated. The directness of your gaze stirred something within him, igniting a flurry of thoughts that were less about data and more about the curious look you had. He found himself eager to understand the enigma of your steady eyes and the subtle confidence they conveyed.

For the first time, Tech felt an urge to maintain that connection, to hold your gaze and engage in a silent conversation only the two of you could comprehend. This newfound fascination made him want to explore this interaction further, to understand why you seemed so intent on him and him alone.

Tech had assumed that, under the circumstances, your attention would be squarely on Hunter as he discussed the mission details. Yet, when he glanced away for a moment to check on his brothers and Omega, and then back to you, the intensity of your gaze was undiminished.

As he held your eyes this time, a warmth spread across his face, an unusual sensation for him. His chest tightened, a physiological response that was both puzzling and intriguing.

The way the light caught in your eyes seemed to draw him in deeper, binding him to the moment in a way that data and analysis never could.

He had rarely seen you so intensely focused, and it felt as if he was discovering a new facet of you. Being the exclusive focus of your attention was absolutely fascinating. It sparked a curiosity in Tech - did you frequently watch him?

The thought that you might often watch him with such focus sent a thrill through him, stirring a newfound eagerness within. Though he could never be certain of your habits, one thing crystallized in his mind—he would not overlook such moments again.

When your gaze finally shifted away, Tech continued to watch you, his thoughts now revolving around how he might recapture your attention. His mind raced through potential conversations and shared tasks that could bring your focus back to him. It was a new kind of strategy, one that involved personal connection rather than battlefield tactics.

Over the course of the next few rotations, as the mission unfolded, Tech found himself increasingly attuned to your presence. He noticed each time you looked his way, though these instances seemed to become shorter and less frequent.

With every brief glance, Tech felt a mix of anticipation and dissatisfaction grow within him. Each fleeting moment left him more restless, his mind constantly toggling between the mission data and the enigmatic patterns of your attention

As the mission drew to a close, you were under Echo's care, receiving treatment for a leg injury. Hunter and Omega were at the controls, piloting the ship, while Wrecker had retreated to his bunk for some much-needed rest. Tech stood a short distance behind Echo, ostensibly engrossed in finalizing mission details on his datapad.

Echo was busy tending to your wound, periodically dictating observations for Tech to cross-reference against their medical logs. Despite the important task at hand, Tech found his focus drifting.

When you, perhaps growing weary of the silence, looked up, your eyes met his. Tech’s head was angled towards his datapad, but his eyes were fixed on you.

You stilled at the sight. His gaze lingered with his earlier impatience giving way to a quiet intensity.

The room filled with the soft hum of the ship and the low murmur of Echo's medical updates, but you couldn’t notice anything beyond Tech.

You were the one to drop your eyes first, searching the rest of his face for a clue as to what he was thinking. The sight of a slight smile pulling at his lips sent warmth crawling up your neck and straight to your core.

Just then, a cool touch on your leg snapped you jolted you back to present.. Echo's concerned face came into view as he applied bacta cream—a detail you would have noted had your attention not been so thoroughly captured by Tech.

“"Did that hurt?" Echo inquired, mistaking your reaction for discomfort.

With a nervous laugh, you shook your head. "No, no! Just cool, that's all." As Echo completed the bandaging, your gaze drifted back to Tech. He had turned his attention back to his datapad, fingers tapping away with a renewed sense of purpose.

The rest of the ride back to Ord Mantell was uneventful. Upon landing Echo, Wrecker, and Omega quickly filed out to head to Cid’s. Hunter paused to speak with Tech before following them out.

"Make sure the systems are fully functional. We took fire before we made it offworld; I’d rather be prepped to go rather than make repairs later."

From behind his helmet, Tech nodded, albeit with a bit of exasperation. “I was already on it.”

Hunter gave you a pat on the shoulder as he turned to leave. “Keep him on track, will you?”

Tech had already moved to the control boards by the time you caught up, his back to you as he deftly navigated through the various system checks on the displays.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between the memory of his intense gaze earlier and the task at hand. With a deep breath, you started to walk past him toward the bunks, trying to focus on anything but him.

But as you passed Tech, the sound of the Marauder’s door sealing shut echoed through the hold. You turned, instinctively looking back over your shoulder.

“Sarad,” his voice stopped you in your tracks. The tone, soft yet certain, made you turn fully towards him.

You felt his stare before you saw it.

Slowly, you turned to face Tech, who now stood between you and the door. The sight of his eyes, clear and penetrating behind the frame of his helmet, sent a thrill through you.

He moved towards you with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze fixed intently on yours. "It seems that you have been watching me," he stated, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of curiosity. As he removed his helmet, revealing his full expression, the room seemed to grow smaller around you. "Without my knowledge."

A nervous smile briefly crossed your face, words struggling to form as you met his piercing gaze. "What can I say? You’re easy on the eyes," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a few more steps forward, reducing the distance between you. Instinctively, you stepped back, your back almost brushing against the bunks. Tech paused, adjusting his goggles as he noted your movement. His eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Does this make you uncomfortable?" he asked, his tone softening, indicating his readiness to step back if you indicated any discomfort.

“Not in the way you might imagine.” You answered, referring, whether he realized it or not, to the ache growing between your legs.

The slight raise of his brows indicated he understood precisely what you meant.

Without breaking eye contact, Tech raised his forearm and activated his comm. “Hunter, diagnostics are showing this may take some time. If you want this done in short time, keep the interruptions to a minimum.” His tone was firm, ensuring no further disturbances would interfere.

It took only one more step for Tech to close the distance between you. He placed a hand on your shoulder, applying just enough pressure to guide you gently. Your body responded instinctively to his touch, moving backward until your legs hit the cot, prompting you to sit.

Tech towered over you momentarily before he angled his head back, taking in the sight of you sitting wide-eyed before him. His gaze was intense, yet there was a hint of wonder in his eyes as he processed this unusual situation.

With a gentle touch, he tilted your chin up with his forefinger, the air thickening between you. “If you wouldn’t mind…” His voice was low, almost a whisper as he moved to crouch, bringing himself to eye level with you. “Remove your pants, Sarad.”

His hand slid over your thigh, his thumb grazing perilously close to the apex of your legs. “If I am correct, I may be able to help with the discomfort you are feeling.” A confident smile played across his lips, adding to the mounting tension. With a teasing glint in his eyes, he added, “And I am seldom wrong.”

You swiftly removed your pants, and with Tech between your legs, he assisted as much as he could. The feel of his gloved fingers on your skin was unexpectedly intense, the fabric of his gloves somehow amplifying the heat rather than muting it.

Dressed only in your panties, you felt Tech’s focus shift as he noticed the wet spot forming on the fabric between your legs. His head remained still, but his eyes lifted to meet yours, his hand traveling up your thigh again.

His thumb brushed lightly over the wet spot and then slipped between the fabric and your skin right to the source of your wetness. His finger paused and his eyes widened slightly. “Just as I suspected.” It was all he said before he pushed his thumb into you.

A low whine escaped you and your head tilted back, overwhelmed by the sudden pressure. Noticing your reaction, Tech adjusted his approach, replacing his thumb with two fingers into the tender area, drawing your attention back to him sharply.

“Do not look away,” he instructed, his fingers moving with a deliberate, slow curl that echoed the steady cadence of his voice.

You inhaled sharply and found yourself gripping his shoulder. “Then give me more,” you managed, your voice a blend of challenge and plea.

Tech’s eyes widened again, his focus intensifying as he registered your reaction. He pulled his fingers from you, leaving you empty and wanting.

Using your knees for leverage, he shifted his position with the fluidity born of his training. He crawled on top of you, maintaining eye contact as you adjusted beneath him. You lay back with your spread legs on either side of him.

Tech lowered himself on top of you. Caging you in with a forearm resting next to your head, he ran a hand up your neck to lightly grip your face. “I assume you know what I’m going to do.”

Your hands move between you, pulling away his gear as your only response. “Don’t make me wait, Tech.”

A noise came from him, acknowledgement mixed with hunger, and he nodded. You worked him free of his pants, hand grazing over the length of him. He flinched at your touch, momentarily looking between you to where your hand worked on him.

He pulled one of your legs to hook around him and angled his hips to line up with your entrance. Feeling the tip of him rubbing against you, you tried for a view of it, but Tech’s hand found your face again. His thumb pulled at your lip, working your mouth slightly open.

“I already told you,” he grunted as the head of his cock pressed into you. “Eyes on me.”

When your eyes met again, Tech rolled the full length of himself into you. He filled and stretched you out, pushing into you even after being fully sheathed. The pressure he forced into you made you see stars and your hands gripped at his neck, working into his hair.

When he moved, it took everything in you to maintain the eye contact demanded of you. You wanted to lose yourself completely, but you stayed present, jaw opening more at Tech’s grip on your face.

“That’s a face I have not seen.” Tech commented, his voice slightly breathless as he increased the pace. “Show me more.”

As he worked deeper and faster into you, you convulsed around him and in response you felt him throb. Your eyes, that focused look that had entranced him so thoroughly, drove him into long hard thrusts to control his mounting ecstasy.

Your breathing became labored with his steady, relentless thrusting. You drug your nails over the back of his neck, pleading to him, “Tech, wait.”

“Negative,” he panted and, with a groan, changed his angle. His cock hit a soft spot into you, wracking you entirely with pleasure. The grip of your leg tightened around him, matching the squeezing grip you had around his cock.

For a moment, your eyes fluttered shut. The break in eye contact flared something in Tech. He needed your eyes on him. In the moment he thought he may never be able to stomach you looking at anything but him again.

Tech slammed his hips into you harder than before. Shoved deep inside you, he stilled and you arched at the ache of his cock rammed against your cervix. Your eyes flew back open and back to Tech.

“Tell me what you did.” Tech murmured, making you suck in a breath.

“I closed my eyes.”

He moved his hips back only slightly before ramming back inside of you. You moaned loudly against him. “What were you supposed to do?” Tech moved your face side to side, watching as your eyes stayed steady on him.

“Keep my eyes on you.” You said, practically on the verge of tears. You’d wanted this for so long, although this was more than anything you could have imagined. Barely able to keep a coherent thought, you worked your muscles tighter around him.

“Excellent.” He whispered, delighted at the submission you displayed. Tech receded from you and filled you again - over and over. He hadn’t missed the changes in you, the heightened pitch of your moans and the tension rippling through you, when he shifted his hips.

Maintaining that splendid angle, Tech pounded into you. A bit of your saliva dripped onto his thumb at your lip. Curiosity driving him further, he dipped his thumb into your mouth and roamed over your tongue.

The softness of your mouth around him and the moan it elicited from you drove him over the edge. He hadn’t anticipated you’d drive him into a near delirium.

“Sarad, I’m-”

“Do it,” You begged, already knowing what was coming. Your own release ready to unleash. “Please, Tech. I need you.”

Those three words sealed it. His thrusts became rapid and shallow until he grunted against you, completely losing himself inside of you.

You felt him spilling against you, each pulse of his cock releasing another wave of his seed. Your own orgasm squeezing out every desperate ounce of him until he went slack against you, his forehead resting against yours.

The look between you changed, softening. All the tension built up over your mission dissipated as you both relaxed into each other's arms. When his eyes roamed your face, you finally were allowed to do the same to him.

Pulling yourself up, you moved your mouth against his. The softness of the kiss almost working you up for another round.

Releasing your face, Tech pushed up to position himself upright. He righted his goggles on his face and fully took in the sight of you splayed out for him. His own fluids seeped out around his cock still buried inside of you. A satisfied smirk rested on his lips.

"Judging by your relaxed state, I'd say that was effective as anticipated.” He said, wiping the sweat on his face away with the back of his hand. “Comfortable now, aren’t you?”

The pleasant, delirious hum you managed told him all he needed to know. “We can always go again to test that theory.” You purred.

He chuckled, extending you a hand. “After we finish the diagnostics.”

#I need him your honor #I'm feral for him #the bad batch #bad batch #the bad batch tech #tech #tbb #tbb tech #tech x reader #tech x you #tech imagine #the bad batch tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #bad batch tech x reader #gnawing at the bars #star wars #fanfiction #tech smut #the bad batch imagine #the bad batch x reader

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Boys Day Out.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - these new pictures are making me go feral, like his hair grew back so quick and ngl im absolutely loving it 🥰

word count - 2.8k

in which, manchester united are playing luton town fc in the premier league, and so what better thing to do then take your two football obsessed children to watch there favourite team hopefully win.

Friday 16th February, 2024.

Last Friday was a rare moment of tranquility in your household.

You sat nestled in your shared bed, Harry's arm draped around your waist, pulling you close. As you lost yourself in the pages of your book, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his eyes sparkled with every scroll on his phone.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm aura around the room, creating a peaceful atmosphere that enveloped you both. With each shared smile and whispered exchange, the bond between you grew stronger, weaving a tapestry of love and companionship that filled the space between you.

As the subtle silence enveloped the room, Harry gently broke it, his voice filled with excitement. "Y’know, m’love, I was thinking... How about taking the boys to the Manchester United match on Sunday? A mate has a few tickets spare. It would be a fantastic day out for them, and I reckon it'd do you good to have some time for yourself."

You paused, considering his suggestion. " H, I don't mind staying with the boys. Besides, it's a big game, and they might get restless."

Harry shook his head, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "Nonsense, they'll love it! And you deserve a break, you do so much for them already. Plus, it'll be a chance for me to bond with the boys, just the three of us."

You couldn't help but smile at his earnestness.

"I suppose it would be nice to have a bit of me-time," you admitted, though still hesitant about leaving the boys for the day.

Seeing your uncertainty, Harry took your hand in his, his gaze softening. "Trust me, m’love, it'll be a day they'll never forget. Besides, it'll give you a chance to relax and unwind, do whatever you fancy without worrying about the boys."

His words warmed your heart, and you found yourself nodding, a sense of relief washing over you.

"Okay, you've convinced me. Let's make it a boys' day out on Sunday," you agreed, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of a few hours of peace and quiet.

Sunday 18th February, 2024.

Harry navigated his Range Rover through the familiar streets, the excitement palpable in the air as they neared Kenilworth town where the football match awaited.

In the backseat, Cameron, his eight-year-old son, gazed out of the window with a mix of wonder and anticipation, his Manchester United kit proudly worn.

Cameron Harry Styles was conceived only five months into yours and Harry’s relationship, it definitely came as a shock seeing as he was only twenty-two, but he absolutely wouldn’t change it for the world.

"Dad, do you think Rashford will score today?" Cameron asked eagerly, his eyes alight with excitement.

Harry glanced at Cameron through the rearview mirror, a smile playing on his lips.

"M’reckon he's got a good chance, Cam. But y’know how football is, anything can happen," he replied, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, in the other car seat Dexter Robin Styles, your youngest child who was conceived on your honeymoon.

Dexter, just turned two, slept soundly in his car seat, blissfully unaware of the excitement surrounding him. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his youngest son, his heart swelling with love.

"Look at him, out like a light already," he remarked to Cameron.

Cameron grinned back, his excitement bubbling over.

"We can wake him up when we get there, Daddy," he declared confidently, already planning the day ahead in his mind. "I can't wait to see the players up close!"

The journey continued for another half an hour, the excitement building with each passing mile. Cameron peppered Harry with questions about the match, his eagerness infectious as they drew closer to the stadium. Dexter stirred in his sleep occasionally, but Cameron kept a watchful eye on him, eager to share every moment of the adventure with his little brother.

Finally, they pulled up in the stadium's private car park, greeted by the bustling atmosphere of fellow fans and the distant sounds of cheers from inside. Harry turned off the engine, glancing back at his sons with a grin.

As Harry stepped out of the car, he made his way around to Dexter's car seat, his heart full of anticipation for the day ahead. Gently, he opened the door and leaned in to wake his youngest son.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he murmured softly, giving Dexter a gentle shake. "It's time to wake up, buddy."

Dexter stirred, his eyelids fluttering as he slowly emerged from his deep slumber.

"Daddy?" he mumbled, his voice groggy from sleep. "Carry me, please?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at his son's request, knowing full well that Dexter was a total daddy's boy.

"Of course, little man," he replied, ready to scoop Dexter up into his arms. "You ready for some football?"

Dexter nodded, rubbing his eyes with tiny fists. "Yeah, football!" he exclaimed, his voice still laced with sleepiness.

Harry chuckled softly, planting a kiss on Dexter's forehead.

"That's right, buddy. But first, we need to get you out of this car seat," he said, gently manoeuvring Dexter's sleepy limbs.

Meanwhile, Cameron had already made his way out of the car and stood next to his father, his hand clasped firmly in Harry's.

"I can't wait to see the players, Daddy!" he exclaimed, his excitement palpable.

Harry chuckled, ruffling Cameron's hair affectionately.

"I know, buddy. It's going to be an amazing day," he replied, his heart swelling with love for his two sons.

The stadium wasn’t that busy, but that may be because the match didn’t kick off for another hour.

No one had managed to spot him thus far, so it was all smooth sailing.

Dexter was still in his arms, thumb in his mouth and Cameron was holding his fathers hand, his shoulder length curls tied back in a loose man bun that you had done this morning.

As they made their way through the bustling stadium, Cameron's stomach rumbled loudly, coincidently as they passed a nearby food stand.

Oh how he craved some warm food right now.

"Daddy, m’hungry!" he exclaimed, tugging on Harry's hand.

Harry chuckled. "Hungry, huh? Remember, it's not 'want', it's 'would like'," he gently corrected, trying to instill good manners in his son.

Cameron nodded eagerly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the food stand.

"Okay, Daddy. Can I have a slice of pizza, please?" he asked politely, his stomach grumbling impatiently.

Harry smiled, proud of Cameron's manners.

"Of course, buddy. Let's see what they have," he replied, leading the way to the queue.

As they waited in line, Harry turned to Dexter, who was still cradled in his arms.

"And what about you, Dex? Would y’like anything to drink?" he asked, brushing a stray lock of hair from Dexter's forehead.

Dexter nodded enthusiastically, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Fruit shoot, please, Daddy!" he chirped, his little voice filled with anticipation.

He should have guessed.

Harry chuckled, planting a kiss on Dexter's cheek.

"Fruit shoot it is, champ," he replied, making a mental note to grab a couple of bottles for the boys.

Finally reaching the front of the queue, Harry ordered a slice of pizza for Cameron and a couple of fruit shoots for Dexter. As they walked away from the food stand, Cameron eagerly bit into his slice, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. And with Dexter happily sipping on his fruit shoot.

In the stands of the bustling stadium, Harry sat between his two boys, each in their own seat. Dexter, perched proudly in his own seat, had insisted on being a "big boy" for the match, his determination shining through as he sat upright, his legs swinging with excitement.

Though still too young to fully grasp the intricacies of the game, Dexter's eyes sparkled with wonder as he took in the sights and sounds of the stadium, his tiny hands gripping the edge of his seat in anticipation.

Cameron, on the other hand, was completely engrossed in the action on the field. With his Manchester United scarf wrapped around his neck and his eyes fixed on the players, he leaned forward eagerly, his heart racing with each pass and shot. His passion for the game was palpable, his entire being consumed by the thrill of the match unfolding before him.

As the game entered its fifth minute, Manchester United surged ahead with an early goal, igniting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Harry couldn't help but smile as he watched the excitement ripple through Cameron, his son's eyes shining with pure joy. And beside him, Dexter's infectious laughter filled the air, a constant reminder of the simple pleasures of being together as a family.

As the game entered its seventh minute, Manchester United's Rasmus Højlund seized an opportunity and scored a magnificent goal, sending the stadium into a frenzy of cheers and applause.

Cameron, unable to contain his excitement, leapt up from his seat, his eyes wide with jubilation as he started jumping up and down.

"Yes! Go, United!" he shouted, his voice filled with exhilaration.

Beside him, Dexter watched with wide-eyed wonder, not quite understanding what had just happened.

Sensing his confusion, Harry leaned down and whispered in Dexter's ear, "Dexter, our team just scored a goal! Isn't that exciting?"

Dexter's face lit up with understanding, and he clambered down from his seat, his tiny legs carrying him over to stand in front of Harry.

With a beaming smile, he reached out for Cameron's hand, eager to join in the celebration.

"Goal! Goal!" he exclaimed, mimicking his older brother's excited jumps.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his two boys jumping up and down in unison, their laughter echoing through the stadium. Quickly pulling out his phone, he aimed the camera at them, capturing the precious moment for posterity.

As the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the match with Manchester United emerging victorious with a score of 2-1, Cameron was buzzing with excitement. He bounced around, his energy infectious as he reveled in his team's triumph.

Meanwhile, Dexter, nestled contentedly in Harry's arms, gazed up at his father with sleepy eyes, still basking in the excitement of the game.

Unbeknownst to the boys, Harry had a surprise in store for them. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he decided to keep it a secret until the perfect moment. As they made their way out of the stadium, Cameron and Dexter assumed they were heading home, completely unaware of the surprise awaiting them.

A kind-hearted stadium staff member, noticing the boys' enthusiasm for the game, discreetly approached Harry and whispered about a special opportunity to visit the dressing room of Manchester United. Sensing the boys' excitement, Harry nodded gratefully, knowing that this unexpected treat would be the perfect end to an already unforgettable day.

They soon arrived at the changing rooms.

"Daddy, where are we going?" Cameron asked, his voice tinged with excitement and curiosity. Before Harry could respond, the door swung open, revealing a sight that left Cameron speechless.

His eyes widened in awe as he took in the scene before him—the dressing room of Manchester United, filled with his favorite players. For a moment, Cameron was rendered silent, his mouth hanging open in disbelief as he stood in the presence of his idols.

Meanwhile, Dexter, wide awake and brimming with enthusiasm, squirmed in Harry's arms, eager to explore. Spotting one of the players nearby, he wiggled free and dashed over without hesitation, his extroverted nature shining through as he greeted the player with a wide grin and a burst of chatter.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Dexter's boldness, his heart swelling with pride at his son's fearlessness. As Dexter chatted animatedly with the player, Harry followed after him, a fond smile on his face as he watched his youngest son soak up the moment with unbridled joy.

Beside him, Cameron held onto Harry's trouser leg tightly, his shyness evident as he observed the scene with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Harry knelt down beside him, offering reassurance and encouragement.

"S’okay, Cam. They're just regular people, like you and me," he whispered, gently squeezing Cameron's hand in support.

Harry noticed Cameron's apprehension and knelt down beside him, offering a reassuring smile and a comforting squeeze of his hand.

"S’okay, buddy. Y’don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to," he whispered gently, understanding his son's discomfort.

As the bustling activity in the dressing room continued, a familiar figure approached the trio.

It was Marcus Rashford, Cameron's favorite footballer.

The moment Cameron caught sight of him, his eyes widened in awe, and he instinctively tightened his grip on Harry's hand.

Harry smiled warmly as Marcus crouched down to Cameron's level.

"Hey there, buddy! Did you enjoy the game?" Marcus asked, his voice gentle and friendly.

Cameron nodded eagerly, his heart pounding with excitement.

"Y-yes! It wa-was amazing! Y-you're my favorite player," he stammered, his cheeks flushing with nervousness.

Marcus grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Thank you, mate! That means a lot to me. What's your name?" he asked, reaching out to ruffle Cameron's hair.

"C-Cameron," he replied, his voice trembling with excitement. "I-I've always wanted to be like you when I play football with my team."

Marcus's smile widened at Cameron's words.

"That's fantastic, Cameron! Keep working hard, and who knows, maybe one day you'll be playing for Manchester United too," he encouraged, his words filled with genuine warmth and encouragement.

Encouraged by Marcus's friendly demeanor, Cameron slowly began to relax. With Harry's reassuring presence beside him, he found the courage to step out from behind his father's leg and engage in conversation with his idol.

Harry, holding onto Dexter with his other hand to prevent him from wandering off again, watched proudly as Cameron and Marcus chatted animatedly. Despite Cameron's initial nervousness, his admiration for Marcus shone through, and Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at his son's bravery.

And as they continued to talk, Cameron's stutter gradually faded away, replaced by an excited chatter as he eagerly shared his love for football with his idol. In that moment, surrounded by his father's support and the friendly encouragement of Marcus Rashford, Cameron felt like anything was possible.

As their conversation with Marcus continued, he noticed the excitement radiating from both Cameron and Dexter.

With a warm smile, Marcus gently interrupted their chatter.

"Hey guys, would you like to take a photo together?" he offered, extending his arms towards them.

Cameron's eyes lit up with excitement, while Dexter's face broke into a wide grin.

"Yes, please!" Cameron exclaimed, eager to capture the moment with their idol.

Marcus chuckled warmly as he scooped Dexter into one arm and Cameron into the other.

"Alright, let's get a picture," he said, positioning them carefully for the shot.

As Marcus held onto the boys, he glanced over at Harry, who stood nearby, watching with a proud smile.

"Would you like to join us in the photo?" Marcus asked, extending an invitation to Cameron and Dexter's father.

Harry's heart swelled with gratitude at the gesture.

"Absolutely," he replied, stepping forward to join the group.

With Harry now in the frame, another player from the team stepped forward to take the photo.

"Say cheese!" he called out, readying the camera.

Cameron, Dexter, and Harry beamed with excitement as the photo was taken, capturing the moment they shared with Marcus Rashford. As the shutter clicked, Harry felt a sense of overwhelming gratitude, knowing that this experience would be a cherished memory for years to come.

After the photo was taken, Cameron ran straight over to Harry, his eyes shining with tears of joy.

"Daddy, I love you so much! This has been the best day ever!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around Harry in a tight hug.

Touched by Cameron's heartfelt words, Harry wrapped his arms around his son, holding him close.

"I love you too, Cam. M’so glad we could share this special moment together," he replied, his voice filled with emotion.

Feeling left out of the hug, Dexter toddled over, his arms outstretched.

"Me too! Hug, Daddy!" he chimed in, joining the embrace with a giggle.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Dexter's enthusiasm, his heart overflowing with love for his two sons. Pulling them both close, he held them tightly, savoring the moment of pure happiness and love.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, laughter mingled with tears of joy. In that moment, surrounded by the love of his family, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the beautiful memories they had created together. And as they headed home, hand in hand, he knew that this day would be etched in their hearts forever.

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