#cw if youre british

[anonymocha]

Marsh Creation raid mission report

[petrodragonicapocalypse]

my 17 year old brother is applying to join the navy.... this is the most embarrassing thing to happen to this family since one of the second cousins turned out to be a canadian trump supporter

[cicerooilsmother]

hello twitter dot com, today, I give you...... *shuffles papers*

"Self-insert fanart of Your Favorite Martian and it's a recreation of the elevator The Smiths scene from '500 Days of Summer'"

[nostalgia-tblr]

congrats to whoever wrote this book on edward vi's religious reforms for managing not to use the phrase "an annoying little shit" (yet) because that would not be proper academic language even though it'd also be accurate.

[ahmnom]

Okay but like depressed reader x Brahms Heelshire. You don't know he's there yet, he's been hiding in the walls but he knows you're there and he often listens in on your phone conversations. He knows you're depressed and really depressed so he takes your medication until you get better but still making sure to place one of your pills on your nightstand every night before you go to sleep. This eventually leads to you catching him in the act of giving you your medication and slowly you get less depressed in his company because you now have human contact and eventually he gives you your medication back but y'all still take care of eachother :)

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

[diejager]

Hiii I wanted to know if you could do a ghost x hybrid!bunny reader?

Where she’s unaware she’s going through her heat cycle (her first) an she’s giving off a dandrufflike sex pollen, so she goes around the base trying to find him. The recuites are following her like dogs an eventually when he finds her (cause she got lost) he realizes that’s what’s going on and helps her out with her problems ☺️

And honestly if you could do anything with ghost x hybrid!bunny reader I would love love looove it 💗💗

Thank you so much for writing! 💗🐰

Bunny

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Bunny Hybrid! Reader

Cw: non-con drugging (unintentional really), sex pollen, heat cycles, bunny hybrid reader, Wc: 1.4k

Fun Fact! Bunny was originally and still is a British term of endearment for girls and young women.

For someone who’d joined Price’s TF for months now, you still couldn’t find your way through these winding halls and sharp corners that made the British base. It was like a maze to your twitching nose and droopy ears, always sending you down the wrong hallway or turning the wrong corner simply because they looked identical, and there wasn’t a plan for the whole base. You’d know, you had asked Price for one after getting lost trying to find the Mess Hall and having the fortune of stumbling into Gaz after wandering the halls of your temporary base.

You, once more, got lost on your way to the gym, the last place you had to search to find Ghost. You had searched the armoury, jumping between soldiers (mostly recruits who’d been sent to your base to train. Most sergeants and higher-ranked soldiers were given their small batch to overwatch.) while looking for your lieutenant, ignoring the dark stares the recruits sent your way. Their pupils dilated and face flushed when you walked past them, bumped shoulders and talked to them. 

While your search for Ghost in the armoury had been fruitless, the other - as equally flushed as the recruits when you spoke to them - sergeants and corporals about him, they advised you to look for the gym and training grounds, knowing the lieutenant would be there if he wasn’t in his room, his office or the armoury. With a grateful nod, you skipped down the corridor, having randomly chosen a path while completely lost. In your small, dazed mind, body heat skyrocketing, skin perspiring and cheeks flushed, you were oblivious to the longing stares people gave you when you walked past them and the number of recruits that had followed you.

They marched in synchronisation metres behind you, acting like a single-celled organism composed of many that followed its prey or another of their kind. Their hands were clammy, their skin heated to a burning red on their ears and cheeks, their hairline stuck to their skin, and their eyes were wide like lost puppies following a treat. 

You lost your way, having to stop and catch someone for directions. Coincidentally, a fellow operator was heading towards the training area, having to meet a teammate for their next briefing. She led you down a familiar hall (was it? Every wall looked the same to you, every spot and crack looked the same on every wall, it had your head spinning in every direction. You were still confused as to why others easily found their way around the whole base.) and pointed out some rooms for you to use as checkpoints when you travelled these halls alone. You thanked her profusely when you found the wide doors to the area you were trying to reach, grasping her hand and giving her a sweet smile, ears flopping at your optimistic movement.

When you reached for the door, you peeked your head through the door, squeezing out when you saw how crowded it was. Ghost preferred solitude and quietness, such a busy and filled room would be a nightmare for a reserved man. He dreaded interacting with people unless he had to (or unless you were part of his loving Task Force 141). Your scent streamed into a wide area, urging heads to turn your way, glazed eyes landing on your head, nose twitching and ears framing your face. They fleeted the room when you left, head tilted towards your scent, ripe and sweet.

You turned to look for the gym, remembering that it was on the other wall, the words gym displayed in bold letters on the door’s sign. You smiled giddily, practically jumping towards it, knowing it was the last place you had to look at. You found him the second you pushed past the door, his broad back standing out around smaller figures around the room even if he seemed to curl into himself on his place on the bench. You went straight his way, the soles of your boots thumping on the slick, shiny floor. It gave you away to the lieutenant who’d heard you walk towards him.

“Ghost,” you smiled, stopping beside his turned body, his sinfully slim hips twisting his skin-tight shirt that stuck to his abdomen like a second skin. “I was searching for you, L.T.”

He muddled silently at you, dark chocolate eyes wandering over your body, over your plush thighs, your round hips, your small stomach, your pressed breast, your naked collar and your face. He flickered to the men that filed in after you, a group of hungry, happy trigger recruits after someone way higher than them. He reeled in the need to growl, watching the way their eyes craved you, fucking you in their mind in every position possible. 

Then his eyes rolled back to you, seeing your flushed cheeks, dilated pupils and sweet grin. The scent that fell from your body was downright delirious, a sickeningly sweet musk that rolled off your body in waves of thin particles of your scent. The stare in your eyes was dazed, dream-like in the way that you gazed at him. It riled him, made him hungry and predatory. 

”You’re in heat, bunny,” he greeted back, voice coming out deeper and raspier than he intended, the low vibration in his chest appearing by itself from his restrained hunger.

He couldn’t fault the recruits that followed you like lost, hungry pups. You were delicious in the haze of your heat (the first one you’ve ever had, he thought. You’d spoken to him once about never having felt the full brunt of heat, they were supposedly painful and made the hybrid needy from what he’d learned. That scared you.), your scent enveloping you in a cocoon of arousing odour, pheromones that attracted males of your kind of human males to satiate your needs.

He couldn't, doesn't mean he wouldn’t because he would. He was faulting them for staring at you so shamelessly, eyes hungering for you. He wasn’t a perfect man, he was far from it, he was the worst kind to be deemed a perfect model. He was imposing, dominating, possessive and deadly, he was a ghost, the dead that came back alive, having no name or face to call his own. Just like the recruits, he wanted you, to take you for himself in the privacy of his dark room. He wanted to bite into those, soft, fluffy ears of yours, always drooping around your face, but never restraining you in combat (you fared surprisingly well, nearly as merciless as him, in combat, tearing down men twice your size with a knife if needed. You were ruthless to your enemy or those that aimed to hurt your little TF.). He wanted to make you cry, to grab your round tail and yank on it until you begged him to stop. He wanted to bite into the scarless skin of your neck, a perfect place for his mark. 

Bunnies liked marks, no? They loved affection and being taken care of, didn’t they? Although you were a hybrid - mostly human with some bunny genetics in your body - you still had some rabbit-like behaviours. He’d seen how you preferred veggies over meat, though you did eat meat on occasion to keep up with the growth of your muscles. He’d seen how you liked soft and smooth things, you had many blankets and personal items you were gifted or bought. He knew you liked jumping and scouting, a bunny's natural curiousity made it peek from beneath the tall grass at things that caught its attention. 

He, however, hasn’t seen how you act in the throes of painful heat, would you submit to a needy, aroused bunny that would ask anything of him; or would you jump him and demand attention, using him as you like. He stopped himself from wandering down that dark path, or at least for now until he got both you and him to his room for privacy. 

“C’mon bunny, let’s go,” he stood up, bag slung over his shoulder while his other hand rested on your lower back, the dip of your vertebrae and the start of your jerking tail. 

He glared at the cowering recruits as he moved between them, they has separated to form a path for you and Ghost. Black-painted skin, dark eyes and a skull-drawn balaclava made them flee, tails tucked between their legs. He held you closer to him, your hip flush to his as he led you to his quarters. That would teach them who you belonged to (perhaps you would show them who he belonged to).

[sailorwritesstuff]

(cw: light British slander)

"it's not funny, knock it." Hobie says holding your gaze. It was like scolding a child.

"yeah?" You mock, a faux accent deep in your throat, "S'not funny, 'Obie?"

"I hate you."

"I love you." You grin, He smiles and presses a kiss to your lips.

"doesn't feel like you hate me, luv."

He groans at your poor attempt to mock his accent and grumbles, "yeah well... I hate consistency anyhow."

[moonstruckme]

Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt

FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33

Thank you gorgeous!

cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal

(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt. 

“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen. 

Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife. 

“Overruled,” he decrees. 

Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.” 

“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out. 

“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.” 

“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?” 

“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast. 

It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up. 

James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips. 

An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to. 

“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off. 

“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck. 

The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him. 

“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?” 

You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.” 

Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.” 

Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both. 

“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.” 

James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.” 

You sigh. “I figured.” 

“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?” 

You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler. 

James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his touch down your neck. 

“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.” 

You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows. 

“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.” 

“Wasn’t ready for what?” 

“To be sick.” 

The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?” 

“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb. 

When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums. 

“What is it?” James asks. 

“Thirty nine point five.” 

They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate. 

“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?” 

“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius had the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.” 

None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions. 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice. 

James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.” 

“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.” 

Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb. 

“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”

It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows. 

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”

[cloudzoro]

Forever | Roronoa Zoro ♡

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genre: smut (minors dni)

pairings: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

cw: unprotected sex, established relationship, size kink, marriage proposal, husband and wife are used multiple times, Zoro decides that maybe he does care about love, gross couple flirting, I'm british so I say sun cream instead of sunscreen x

masterlist

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“I know we can't get married. Being reputable pirates, no one would risk having a legal record of us in their registry. But I don't give a fuck about a ridiculous party or a piece of fucking paper."

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Zoro isn't marriage material. At least, that's what he thinks. He's never been interested in marriage, and he was never interested in sex or relationships until he met you. The natural progression of your relationship from acquaintances to friends to lovers was slow and casual. There were no grand gestures, emotional confessions or anything else from those horrid romance books you read that make Zoro gag. He had never officially asked you out. One day, after months of flirting and sleeping together, Sanji was getting a little too close to you and Zoro barked at the cook to leave his girl alone. You never denied that you were his girl and later on that night, when he was fucking you into the mattress, you confirmed that you were his and only his.

It's a gorgeous day at sea, and you're out on the deck sunbathing with Nami. Zoro observes you as you lean back with your eyes closed. He tries to continue his daily workout but keeps getting distracted by your figure. Usually, he'd go elsewhere to work out, but with the horny cook hanging around the ship, he doesn't want to take any chances.

Not long into Zoro’s workout, he feels your eyes on him. He turns to meet your eyes, and the way you're hungrily watching him makes him flex his muscles a little harder. You watch him for a few minutes before softly calling his name.

“What is it?” he grunts, acting unbothered. You flash him a grin, holding a bottle of sun cream.

“I can't reach my back”, you pout, and He responds with an eyeroll. He walks over to your sun lounger and sits carefully on the edge. He takes the bottle from your hand and squeezes it.

“Turn over for me”, He instructs. Zoro squirts a generous amount of the cream on his hands. His large hands rub and trace everywhere they can over your back. Zoro uses sun cream as if it's lotion to massage you. As his hands work their magic on your tightly-wound back muscles, the cute noises falling from your lips make his cock twitch.

“Do you two mind not doing your awkward foreplay out here?” says Nami as she tries to ignore you and soak up the sun. “y'know I can't reach my back either”, her tone teasing, clearly mocking the two of you.

“What a shame”, Zoro deadpans. He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade and gets back to his workout.

“Damn, I guess back rubs are wifey exclusives,” says Nami sarcastically. Neither you nor Zoro respond, but the word ‘wife’ rings in his head for the rest of the afternoon. Zoro's not one for marriage, but he thinks you'd look beautiful in a wedding dress.

A few days later, You're on a new island and pass a jewellery shop. You stop to look at the jewellery in the window, and Zoro stands behind you, eyeing the ring display. Thoughts of slipping a beautiful gold ring on your finger and claiming you as his forever taunt him. You're pirates. You could never have a legally recognised wedding. He makes a note of the ring that had caught your eye and thinks to himself that he must be crazy. If you had told Zoro from a few years ago that he'd be contemplating buying a ring for you and ‘marrying’ you, he'd laugh in your face and call you an idiot.

Once your short adventure on the new island is wrapped up, he tells you to go on back to the ship as he needs to take a detour. He instructs Chopper to take care of you, and the tiny reindeer gives a dramatic salute and promises the swordsman to get you home in one piece.

Zoro arrives home about twenty minutes after you and heads straight to your room, where you're already waiting for him. He thinks about dropping to his knees and asking you to marry him the traditional way, but nothing you've ever done has been traditional. You're literally pirates, after all. His heart squeezes when he sees you waiting for him, and it's almost painful. It passes him off how soft he is for you. You've tamed a demon; all it takes is a pretty smile from you, and he's ready to give up his entire life for you.

When you jump up from your shared bed - Franky had installed a couples suite not long after you'd started dating - to greet him, Zoro immediately backs you to the edge of the bed. He connects his lips to yours. He pushes his tongue into your mouth as your hand slides into his hair. He lifts you so you wrap your legs around him, and then he sits on the edge of the bed so you can straddle him. His hands grip your ass and guide you over his hard cock. He groans at the pressure of you over his lap, and it seems you're getting impatient as you whine and rock your hips faster.

Zoro smiles into the messy kiss as he flips you so you're on your back, and he's hovering over you. Your legs are locked around his hips, keeping him pressed against you. He reaches to your lounge shorts and pulls them off with your assistance. He then moves to your top, groping your chest.

“Take this off for me, pretty girl”, he rasps, his voice making your pussy throb. You follow through with his request and remove your shirt alongside your bra. He leans down to kiss and lick over the skin of your chest. His thorough worship of your tits and lack of attention to your pussy have you growing desperate for him. He listens in amusement as you whine for him to touch you. Your voice is the prettiest thing he's ever heard. Your voice is as precious to him as the sound of a blade swinging through the air. His life was all swords, blood and guts until you showed up. Sometimes, he resents you and your determination because he's lost all credibility among the crew after being caught behaving softly with you. “Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you, I promise.”

“I just want you”, You whimper, using your legs to push him against your soaked panties.

“you've already got me. I'm right here” You should have known he'd want a more specific answer from you.

“I want your cock, Zoro. Please” He's almost flat against you at this point, body pressing you down into the mattress.

“You'll get my cock, I promise. Just answer something for me first.” He asks, and you try to clear your thoughts as you nod. “You're mine, right? forever?”

You are. In every sense of the word, you are his. He's yours, too. He has been since you flashed your pretty smile at him. Suddenly, for the first time in his life, Zoro feels nervous. You nod, telling him that you'll always be his. He digs around in his pocket, and at first, you don't have time to process what he has in his hands because he kisses you aggressively. You feel cold metal press against your ring finger, and your eyes snap open, pushing Zpro back slightly to talk to him.

“Is that a ring?” you ask, and he sheepishly nods. You've never seen Zoro this shy as he attempts to explain himself.

“I know we can't get married. Being reputable pirates, no one would risk having a legal record of us in their registry. But I don't give a fuck about a ridiculous party or a piece of fucking paper. You don't have to consider this a marriage proposal. You can call it a promise ring or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. I just wanted something to symbolise that you're mine and no one else. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you” You're stunned into silence by his heartfelt words; he's never been this open and vulnerable with anyone. Part of him thinks you've broken him.

“Are you asking me to be your wife?” you ask, finally getting a look at the ring. Zoro nods, dropping his head to your neck. He reminds you it doesn't have to be a marriage thing. You're constantly out getting into fights and life-threatening situations, so he feels a tangible symbol of your relationship might help keep peace of mind. A small thing to ground you when the world around you gets too hectic. You pull Zoro's head from the crook of your neck so you can look him in the eyes. He's embarrassed about his secret sappiness, but he's secure in his feelings about you.

“I'd love that”, You breathe, leaning up to kiss him, and he's slipping the ring onto your finger within seconds. That's it. He's your husband now. When he's done exploring your mouth with his tongue, he moves his wet kisses down to your neck. He leaves a smattering of purple and red marks over your beautiful tits and traces his tongue down your body. During his descent down your body, he whispers. When he kisses your neck, he tells you that he's a lucky man to have someone like you. He tells you you're beautiful and intelligent as he kisses your tummy. When he kisses your thighs, he tells you how much he admires your strength.

His hand grips your underwear, and he tears it from your body. He adjusts so he's lying on his front between your legs. He leans down to lick at your pussy. His mouth feels so good. You try to lift your hips to grind into his mouth, but one of his large hands holds your hips down. He brings his other hand to your mouth and presses two fingers against your lips. You greedily accept his fingers into your mouth, getting them all nice and slick for him. He pulls his fingers from your lips and pushes them into your hole as he suctions his mouth onto your clit. The combination of his fingers and tongue makes you cum embarrassingly fast, and your legs squeeze his head as the pleasure takes over. Your husband stays in place, licking and fingering you through your high, prepping you for his huge cock. Zoro sits on his knees and admires you when your deep breaths begin to subside. His beautiful wife, laid out in the sheets, looking up at him with a dazed expression. You look satisfied, and that makes pride bloom in Zoro's chest. He removes his trousers to join you in your nakedness and taps the head of his fat cock against your sensitive clit.

“You ready for my cock, baby?” he asks, teasingly rubbing his cock between your folds.

“Please, Zoro” you whine. “Please fuck me.” He'd never say no to you, and as long as he's aboard this ship, no one else is going to either. He pushes his cock, now slick with your juices, into your hole. You both moan at the way your walls have to stretch to accommodate his size. He's no stranger to teasing you, but now that your warm wet cunt is wrapped around his cock, all he can think about is fucking you open. He starts with a brutal pace; he can't help it, your pussy is addicting. He's convinced you have him under some kind of spell.

“Perfect fucking pussy was made for me,” he punctuates each word with a harsh thrust. “This is mine. All mine,” he says.

You try to respond, but you're constantly interrupted by your own moans. Zoro has you whining and gripping the bedsheets beneath you. You feel how deep he is, and the way his hand presses onto your tummy over where his cock is inside you makes your legs tremble. You're close already, and you're rapidly approaching delirium. You're mindlessly babbling about how much you love him and how big his cock is. Zoro may be busy thoroughly fucking your sweet pussy, but he's still listening intently to every slurred word that leaves your mouth.

“I love you too, baby,” he says, responding to your shaky rambling. “You ready to cum for me? he asks with a hungry smile on his face. It always shocks you how Zoro went from someone who couldn't care less about sex to someone who can't go a day without seeing you cream on his cock. You're dangerously close, and Zoro can feel it, too. The way your pussy pulses around his cock. The perfect vice grip of your pussy has him just as desperate. He leans down so your foreheads are touching and rocks his hips harder. You hold on to his biceps as he drills into you, trying to pour all his feelings about you into every thrust.

Your orgasm starts small in your lower stomach, and the satisfying tingly feeling spreads outwards till your hands and feet are numb. You cum hard, gushing around his cock while the squeezing of your walls drags Zoro over the edge with you. He cums inside you, filling up with every last drop of cum. After one last heavy thrust from the large man, he slowly pulls out and lies next to you.

“Y/n,” he says, voice raspy from the moaning and exhaustion. You hum in response to show him you're listening. “if you want, in the next place we dock, we can look for a proper registry office”, he says.

“Yeah, because they're gonna see two pirates with high bounties and scary nicknames and let us in,” you say sarcastically, covering the fact that you really would like that.

“I'm sure we can find at least one,” he says. You hold up your left hand, showing off your ring.

“This is enough for me, though”, you muse, admiring the jewellery.

“Agreed” Zoro lifts his left hand, and a gold wedding band sits on his finger. You hadn't even noticed because you were so busy getting ravaged by him.

“I love you,” he says. He didn't care much for love until he met you. “You're mine, forever.”

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thank you so much for reading and enjoying!!!

slip me a comment, dm or ask if you want to be added to the taglist! (specify fandom!)

likes, comments and reblogs are all greatly appreciated. I read every comment and tag and they mean a lot ♡

taglist: @priv-rose

[yawnderu]

Had the sudden thought of Pimp!Ghost right after waking up efjbefjhb

cw: prostitution, brief mentions of SA (not done by Ghost), mentions of violence.

Pimp!Ghost, who is so damn nice to you. How can he not be nice if you're the one bringing in most of the money compared to the other girls? You're a prime example of pure perfection in his eyes, always keeping you by his side when you're not working.

Pimp!Ghost, who handpicked a pair of older women to help you clean up and take care of you, keeping it a secret from the other prostitutes so they don't treat you differently. You're his special girl, but he doesn't want to cause tension despite how obvious his preference for you is.

Pimp!Ghost, who is fully aware of how tired and detached you must be from sex, so he never expects it from you. He likes letting you sit on his office and takes you shopping, using his free time to go around the city with you, shopping for new things for your apartment.

Pimp!Ghost, who surprisingly never tried making a move on you no matter how much time you both spend alone. He doesn't enjoy his job and is thinking about switching paths, but he has to make sure he can take you with him once he leaves the business.

Pimp!Ghost, who you saw fuming for the first time when you came to him crying with messy clothes and a busted lip, telling him how one of your clients tried to cross a line and got angry when you rejected him.

Pimp!Ghost, who disappeared for two days straight after that, only seeing him again when he knocked on your apartment's door. He looked like a mess, eye black smeared all over his cheeks and eyes, as well as bruised knuckles that you couldn't ignore.

Pimp!Ghost, who refuses to tell you what happened but convinces you to leave your life behind and start anew with him, promises of you never having to sell your body ever again.

Boyfriend!Ghost, who kept his promise, buying a small cottage in the British countryside. You convince him to adopt a few farm animals to take full advantage of all the free space you have and before you both realize, you're raising 20 chickens, a goat, and two baby cows who seem to be attached to your hip. A new stray cat appears soon, and Simon is unable to say no when you ask if you can keep it.

[russellsppttemplates]

I'm right here! (Oscar Piastri)

People seem to forget you're dating Oscar

Note: english is not my first language. Another Oscar piece 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: jealous themes

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Do you think this will translate as well on the track though?", Phil, the head of the engineering department, asked as you showed him the latest set of data.

"Even with the interval we've set for changes, these numbers show it could improve performance, especially in race pace", you pointed to the calculations on the side.

"We would only have it for Miami, though", he reasoned, "we don't have enough time to get this done for Shanghai and I don't think it would be wise to test this in a track we haven't raced in five years", Amelia argued as you nodded in agreement, "but it looks promising - good job, Y/N", she patted your back.

"Would you feel comfortable talking about it in the meeting with Zak, Andrea and the mechanics? You have been the one working the most with this, makes sense for you to be the one taking point. Lando and Oscar should join you as well - I think they're doing something on the Sim", William mused.

"Absolutely! Yes, Oscar said he was driving a new set up and strategy Tom also wants to discuss in the meeting", you offered with a smile.

"Having insider information makes this easier - I don't have to check every single e-mail and wonder about things, especially Oscar's schedule", Amelia chuckled, rubbing your shoulder before she got up.

As everyone gathered in the meeting room, you set your laptop up so the latest data would be seen by everyone as you spoke about the changes, "we don't think nor expect this will be ready for China, but we're hoping to have the new package in Miami already - gives us enough time to work on it and the track there is ideal for us to have an idea of how this could play out for the rest of the season", you concluded.

"I agree - I think China will be damage control racing and we're accepting it as it goes", Andrea stated.

"We just need to get going with these then and also get the guys to try it out on the- Oh! Speaking of the devil", Zak chuckled as Oscar and Lando stepped inside the meeting room.

"So that's that, I think - thank you for all your work and let's hope we can bring some points next weekend", the British driver said before everyone scattered out.

Closing your laptop and getting your tablet, you held them against your torso so you could go and set them back to your station before lunch. You didn't make it very far as Oscar stood just outside the room, his hand snaking up your back carefully as he didn't want to startle you.

"Good morning, love", he smiled, kissing your cheek and walking with you.

"Morning, Osc", you kissed his cheek back, "how was training?", you wondered.

"Same old - went for a run this time, though, it was nice enough outside", your boyfriend offered as you reached your desk, tidying it a little bit before leaving to get some lunch, walking hand in hand.

You didn't expect to fall for a driver, especially after the relationship you had with Lando. You behaved like siblings, often pranking eachother, and it had helped you grow more confident around him and the senior staff when you felt you were all but a small intern. Over the years, you grew more comfortable as your ideas and pitches would get considered and tested, finally feeling like your place was well earned and that at the right time, the development would come to bring McLaren to the top where it belonged.

When Oscar joined the team, however, you didn't expect to feel the way you felt about the Australian driver. He was handsome, very shy and very kind and thoughtful as he sat all through the meetings as you explained the changes. Jeopardising your career was something you didn't want to do, but after some not so careful touches and glances, the team assured you it wouldn't be an issue in case you and Oscar were to pursue a relationship together.

"Here's my favourite team-mate! And she brought Oscar with her!", Lando joked as you sat at the same table as him.

Swatting his neck playfully, you sat down next to him so you could face Oscar as he put his tray down, "I will revoke new updates package from you and you'll be stuck in the midfield", you taunted before you started eating.

"Do you want to spend the night at my place? I need to sort a few things out still this afternoon, but I'm hoping I can leave on time today", you squinted your eyes.

"What do you mean on time?", Lando quirked an eyebrow.

"Yesterday, she got so caught up in the calculations, I barely got a text out of her when I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me", Oscar chuckled as you held hands on top of the table, playing with his fingers, "what was it you texted me? 'I'm having a breakthrough' I think it was", your boyfriend offered.

"I did, though! Amelia checked it over and we might be onto something - I have to go to Race Base this afternoon so they can check them out", you shrugged your shoulders."We're spending the whole afternoon in the sim", Oscar checked with you, "when you get off, then we can leave together - how does that sound?".

Coming back to your place after you stopped by the supermarket, you set the bag on the counter and pulled out all of the ingredients you bought to make sure the dinner would be suitable and appropriate to Oscar's plan.

"I haven't had a proper cuddle today", Oscar pulled you to him, beggining to litter kisses on your forehead all the way to your cheeks and jaw, "I can't ever do this at the center", he mumbled against your neck, tickling you.

"We could, just where there are no other team members", you giggled before cupping his cheeks, "which happens to be nowhere most of the time", before you kissed his lips.

"I'm going to start working on the chicken", Oscar said after you stole a few kisses, "are you going to be in the Center for the race?".

"No, I'm travelling with the team", you smiled as you took the fresh pasta out of the bag, "which means we can spend more time together - and people will actually see us together", you mumbled the last part.

"People know we're together, love", he smiled, cutting up the last bit of garlic and tossing it in the pan.

"Sometimes it doesn't seem like it - they didn't see me in Jeddah and the rumours flew out of control", you wiped your hands on the kitchen towell before hugging Oscar's back, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

"You know how the media works - they see the smallest hint to something they want to see and then they're there", he offered, taking one of his hands to squeeze your hip, "you're the one here, aren't you?", he tsked.

.

"Where are you going?", Oscar asked as he saw you grab a tablet and push the chair back under the table, "I thought we could have some time together now".

"The stewards picked out eight cars at random to get checked over a few components - Mike and Barry are waiting for me", you offered, pecking his lips quickly, "hopefully they're just not messing around with our schedule because everything is supposed to be how it is!", you smiled before you started to walk out.

"I'll go with you, then", your boyfriend assured, "can't have you go to the wolves on your own when you can have company, beautiful".

Oscar walked up to the building with you, kissing your temple before you stepped inside, "I left some data from the sprint for you to look at, and tell Lando I also left a file for him with his tire deg - I told Will to do it, but he might forget!", you alerted before letting him go.

Knowing how long it would take, he went back to the McLaren garage, stopping whenever fans snapped a couple of pictures or autographs.

By the time you were back in the hotel room after the sprint and qualifying, Oscar went to the bathroom so he could have a shower, leaving you to lay on the bed and scroll through social media.

You looked at the photos the media team had posted, along with the stories where you could spot yourself in the background and spotted a few comments as you flicked through the carrousel of pictures, the comments under it weren't something you hadn't seen before.

Hear me out, Oscar and Elaine are the perfect match

I know, right? 😭 honestly, they need to get together! They would be so cute together

She's so polite and put together, but I get rhe vibe that she's really shy too, they would be perfect for eachother

Are we forgetting Y/N? aka Oscar's girlfriend

I still can't believe the people at the top have let their engineer date a driver

Y/N's way too out there, I call PR relationship

She couldn't even build a great car, I'm not sure why you would defend her

She was literally the reason the car and the turnaround last year and we started getting podiums?

These have been the best 12 months in terms of development, what are you on about? Just because she's with Oscar, you can't dig at her like that

The last few comments don't come up too often, but you had to admit it was nice when they did even if they did nothing to the way you felt.

The green eyed monster took over more times that you'd like. You work with numbers, probabilities and direct correlations, so it was hard to miss the reason behind how you were feeling.

"Why are you looking at your phone like that? You promised you wouldn't work once we got back to the room", Oscar warned, using the towell to dry his hair before he looked at you again.

"I'm not working", you mumbled, locking the phone and setting it on your stomach, pondering whether or not you should talk to Oscar about this.

"That long silence tells me that there is something bothering you", Oscar began, "I'm not saying you have to talk about it right now - I won't force you to -, but I'm here for you when you want to do it", he offered earnestly.

"I'm jealous of you and Elaine", you stated, earning a quirked eyebrow from your boyfriend.

"Me and Elaine? The communications' intern?", he looked for some clarification.

"Yes!", you answered loudly.

"We don't - I don't even spend that much time with her, what do you mean?", Oscar asked.

"I know you don't, but people online seem to think you should! First, it was that actress that McLaren invited for Abu Dhabi - the weekend where Natalie and Naomi kept approaching us because they wanted to chat and there was actual visual proof we were together after all the rumours -, now they're saying how you should go out with Elaine!", you admitted, "they're all saying you really should have someone and that she should be the one to go, that she has all the qualities you should look for and I-", you took a big breath in, "I'm literally over there, every single day of the races - in the garage, sometimes in the pitwall!", you stated, "I barely do any races from the Center anymore, so it's not like people forgot that I exist!".

"Love, I'd never do that to you - you're the only person I care about like that", Oscar replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone when our relationship is public - I'm there, I see them, they see me!", you let a tear fall down your cheek, "there's only so much I can do to make it obvious, Osc!".

Oscar sat down next to you on the bed, throwing the towell on the floor for the moment so he could pull you to face him.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much, I don't even notice all of that", your boyfriend craddled your face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears that continued to fall and looking into your eyes.

"I never told you and I know you don't read all of the comments", you reasoned, "I just thought it would stop at some point! Everyone keeps saying that you should have someone and I want them to think I'm that someone - because I am!", you said bitterly.

"Is there something you'd like me to do? That would make you feel better about it?", Oscar combed your bangs away and behind your ears.

"What can we do anyway? Have you walk around with a t-shirt that says "I have a girlfriend - Y/N, the engineer"?", you scoffed.

"I will do that if you think it will help - throw in a headband with "Y/N's boyfriend" too if it helps!", he tried to pry a smile out of you.

"Don't be silly", you playfully shoved his chest before holding his hands in yours, "I honestly have no idea what to do, but I know I want it to stop without putting our jobs on the line", you pouted.

"Maybe an Instagram post from us then? Something chilled but serious enough so anyone can get the hint - and I wouldn't mind arriving into the paddock with you in the morning", your boyfriend suggested.

"Oscar, I have to be there way earlier than you need to", you argued.

"Then I'll be there earlier, I'll have breakfast there with you and we'll spend more time together in front of everyone - as much as you feel comfortable with", Oscar offered you an assuring smile, "I don't want anyone else the way I want you, I don't love anyone the way I love you, Y/N".

Smiling at the honesty and safety he was transmitting you, you kissed his lips, starting with small pecks before one last long kiss, letting your foreheads touch as you pulled away, "thank you, Osc, I love you".

The next morning, reporters were surprised when they saw the McLaren driver show up in the paddock so early, his hand laced in yours as they asked a couple of questions.

"My girlfriend had to come in earlier, so I thought I'd join her and see a little bit of the preparations", Oscar replied before you continued to walk to the McLaren hospitality.

"Is it bring your boyfriend to work day?", Anna asked after her usual morning greeting.

"He's always with me at work though", you squinted before giggling, "but I really need people to know he's mine and that I'm here!", you half joked.

[bits-and-babs]

Im so sorry I didn’t see this till after request were closed but so idk if you gon see this but, f!reader had her nipples pierced? I’m sorry but I feel like price would be obsessed with readers piercings like if she had a tongue piercing too? Manz would go crazy. Smut? Dw if not <33

✦ 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 6: NIPPLE PIERCINGS

cds!john price x recruit!reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words

summary: three months into your sas training course, chief directional instructor captain john price drills you on cold-water-shock survival.

cw: f!reader, cold water shock, power imbalance (recruit x directing staff), secret relationship, breast/nipple play, p in v sex, cream pie.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 7: INCUBUS ⇾

It wasn’t as though there hadn’t been sufficient warning, but three years of service in the British army was nowhere near enough to prepare your body for the brutal battering that SAS selection subjected it to. Your blisters had blisters, and your body pulsed with a bone-deep ache every time you managed to crawl into bed upon dismissal. 

You had been sufficiently warned… About everything except this. 

Freezing cold water drips from your nose as you hoist yourself out of the pool at the base of the waterfall. Cold-Water-Shock training was a standard part of SAS selection– the ability to control your own discomfort and maintain a level head whilst also teaching the fundamentals of surviving sub-zero. January weather meant temperature levels were unsurvivable past a handful of seconds, and you could feel why. 

The process was simple. Fully submerge yourself into the icy depths before raising to the surface and keeping your chin above water. Next step; breathe. Regain composure and steady your breathing to fight the effects of cold-shock. Recruitment Staff would then ask you a handful of simple questions to assess competency before heaving you out of the water. 

You’d passed, you felt, with flying colours. The savagery of the otherworldly Brecon Beacons had failed to shake your resolve, answering the questions with ease. Even now, drenched to the bone and involuntarily trembling, you maintained a strong eye contact with Chief Directional Instructor Price as he eyed you with a stern expression. 

It’s momentary— barely there. You’d have missed it had you blinked. Price’s thick eyelashes, made damp by the sleet that had been battering the group all morning, dipped below your face. Sapphire blue irises glint in the low light when they zero in on their target. You hadn’t worn a bra this morning given you’d been forced out of bed at the arse-crack of dawn and expected to be in the van within five minutes… They’d left you little to no choice. 

Regardless of this reasonable explanation, you suddenly begin to regret your decision to forgo the cover, Staff Price gazing at the way your grey t-shirt clings to your pebbled nipples and the exposed shape of the piercing balls either side of each mound. 

“That’ll be all, 16,” he says, that raspy grit to his voice warming you from the inside-out. That fever encroaches on the apples of your cheeks when you realise he’s yet to pull his eyes away. 

“… Yes Staff.”

✦✦✦

“You did that on purpose.”

John’s voice, husky and full, was surprisingly even considering how tight your pussy walls clenched around his thick, veiny cock. You wail quietly at the soft breath that dances across your assaulted skin, nipples so incredibly sensitive. Sucked and nibbled and licked, the tender skin screams when Price drags the flat of his tongue over your pierced nipple with a delighted hum. 

“N-No—“ you choke out, the overstimulation of your nipples sending another shockwave of bliss down your spine. You know you’re squeezing him, because John ruts up into your fluttering pussy with a far less composed groan. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to!”

“You’re not foolin’ anyone, Love,” John murmurs, gently taking your pebbled nipple between his teeth and rolling it. 

You see stars— swirls of technicolour dancing behind your eyelids with how tightly you squeeze them shut against the cataclysmic pleasure that seeps between your thighs. When John jerks his hips up again, you can hear how wet you are. It’s sloppy, disgustingly soaked, and Price loves it. 

“Fuckin’— Hah-“ John moans against the supple flesh of your breast, wrapping his lips around it and sucking on the hypersensitised skin. This time, when you arch your back from the bed with a wail of his name, he begins a slow and leisurely pace with his hips. 

Burying your fingers into the short-crop of his hair, you brace against the ticking bomb of your orgasm as it approaches. Each long stroke of John’s hips makes another disgustingly wet sound, your cunt greedily sucking him in and creaming around his throbbing dick as he flicks his tongue back and forth across your abused nipple. His other palm, battle calloused and rough, squeezed the other breast, thumb equally torturing your second nipple. 

It comes in waves; cresting, crashing tsunamis rather than soft laps of the ocean on a beach. A prickling heat that singes away the Beacon’s icy cold from your toes and creeps up the inside of your thighs. Your heart slams against John’s lips, your hands pushing into the back of his head to keep him there while you chase what could only be described as liquidation. 

“Ohmygod—“ you slur, and it’s as though the edges of your vision blacken. In truth, you’re not sure what you call him as you come apart on his cock, sobbing out a hapless string of garbled noises that don’t sound anything like his name. Toes curling either side of his hips, you fail to brace against the overstimulation that rips violently through you. 

“Fucken’ ‘ell—“ he groans deeply, a guttural growl that seems to vibrate the atoms in the air around you. The deliberate, methodical thrusts of his hips suddenly pitch to a sloppy, desperate gallop. John’s hands grasp the bed sheets so tight you almost hear the threads strain against the pull. 

He cums, coating the inside of your cunt with a rumble of your name that sounds so foreign to your ears with the afterglow buzzing in your eardrums. John continues to fuck you through it, taking pleasure in the way you squirm and squeal and cry until his cum seeps between your legs, coating the inside of your thighs with his seed. 

Sharp, heaving breaths echo in his small quarters, and you’re almost certain that his fellow DS had definitely heard you this time. But when John places his damp forehead to yours, eyes closed as he relishes in the bliss of being so close to you for just a moment longer, you struggle to find it in yourself to worry. 

“You should wear a bra,” John mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips— but missing in the haze of post-orgasm-bliss and settling for a peck on the corner of your mouth. 

“Why?” You muse, still a little breathless as he works his lips down your chin and over your jaw. The gruff, burly Chief of Directing Staff was so affectionate when the door was closed. You knew that this thing you had going on was more serious than a thing when you stopped being anxious about getting caught and being kicked off the course— instead stressing about John offering his tenderness to another recruit. “If this is how you react to seeing me with a wet shirt and no bra, I’ll dunk myself in that water every damn day.”

In a moment of sobriety, John pulls back to look you in the eye. His aquamarine irises hold a heavy seriousness that makes your breath stall for a moment, afraid you’d said something out of line. 

“Love, I completed that whole trainin’ session with a rock hard cock.” 

A beat. 

Just before peals of laughter burst from you. John rolls his eyes, turning onto his back on the mattress. Still, he’s unable to bite back the smile that pulls on his lips.

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh

[phas3d]

Annoying Habits || Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire, blaise zabini

summary :: annoying ass things they do because at the end of the day they're teenage boys and are bound to be insufferable in some way possible (i do all of these exact things as a woman)

DRACO MALFOY pauses movies every 5 minutes

After watching the movie for about an hour, you and Draco have only made it 15 minutes into the film. Why? Because despite it being the introduction, Draco found himself criticizing and questioning every single thing possible.

Right when the movie started and showed the main character, Draco slapped the pause button and asked, "Who is that?" only for you to sigh and unpause the film because you knew fully well the movie would tell you themselves.

"I'm Enola Holmes and-" said the character through the screen, proving you right, but she was rudely cut off by Draco slapping the pause button yet again.

"I don't like that name." he says, "Doesn't sound British enough. Sounds like an American trying to make up a British name. You know, I really hate when Americans try to make content based around Britain because-" blah blah blah as he starts to begin his 5 minute long rant about whatever that fuck he was talking about.

You didn't even utter a word back, knowing that if you responded he would only argue more. Even though you were not disagreeing with Draco, he still found himself ranting to the air.

Ironically, although Draco loves to over-explain and question things, he has refused to join the speech and debate team because he views them all as losers. But, you knew deep down that he would wipe all of them clean if he wanted to.

"That's why Americans should stick to American films." He says, finally ending his rant. He unpauses the movie, allowing the character to only move for 5 seconds before he pauses it again.

"The outfits don't look very accurate. I doubt they actually dressed like that back in that time era. Wait what time period is this movie in?" He says as he whips out his phone, beginning to research whether or not the film's costume design is accurate.

This continues on for the entire film. Never once does this man shut his mouth. It's better if you just watch the film on your own at this point.

TOM RIDDLE full volume for everything

Everyone thinks that Tom loves silence and peace, but that's actually the farthest thing from the truth. He only prefers silence because he finds everyone else's voice extremely annoying. If he could, he would make all of Hogwarts mute just so he could enjoy not hearing some annoying 2nd year ranting or the boring lectures.

When you went to his dorm for the first time, you were instantly overwhelmed by all of the noise and lights. It was as if you entered an emo Cocomelon video in real life. Although his room was colored in calm cool colors, the audio was the opposite.

His computer was playing some classical music at full volume. His TV was playing Breaking Bad at full blast with captions that took up almost half of the screen. His phone was connected to a speaker that was blasting an audiobook of some king and had the voice of an old 90 year old man. Despite all of this noise, he was still humming a random tune and tapping his fingers.

Although now you're used to it, it's almost impossible to visit him at times. Of course he'll turn down everything and turn off certain things when you ask. But some days he can't be bothered to accommodate for you,

"Tom, can you please turn off your audiobook?" You ask as you struggled to read the textbook in your lap.

"Why? Do you not like it?" He asks while doing some random task.

"No no, I don't care about it. But it's just a bit distracting. I can handle the music and the TV and your humming but the audiobook is throwing me off from studying."

Tom rolled his eyes and sighed, he had so much sass in him that no one else got to see besides you. You see his eye roll and instantly want to smack him because of his sore attitude.

"Come on, you're not even listening to it!" You say defensively as he squints his eyes at you, obviously upset by what you said. Tom was exactly like a cat, sassy and judgy despite being the weird one.

With a painfully slow pace, Tom walks to the speaker that's playing the audiobook. You are relieved, it was pretty rare for Tom to actually listen to your requests.

But, to your dismay, Tom's finger presses the "+" button, making the speaker even louder than before as he goes to sit back in his chair and continue his task. You groan loudly as he smirks to himself due to his petty actions.

MATTHEO RIDDLE flexes in every mirror in sight

Mattheo always made sure to treat you right by taking you out on nice dates every once in a while. He spoiled you rotten and you couldn't be more appreciative of it. You always had a reason to get dolled up and wear cute outfits.

But the one con that came with this was the inability to have alone time to get dolled up. Although Mattheo didn't know a thing about makeup or hair care, he always stayed with you to watch your process. I use the word, "watch" extremely lightly since he comes for one reason only.

And that's to flex in every single mirror you own. You can't escape it. He will flex and he will gawk at himself no matter the time or place. You thought he was doing this to impress you, but he wasn't. If he's being honest, he forgot you were even using the mirror due to how focussed he was on getting the perfect angle for his muscles to pop out.

Using a vanity? He's flexing to himself in the background as you do your makeup. He's showing off his legs and back muscles. Every time he found a good angle, he would whistle to himself and hype himself up.

Using the bathroom mirror? He's flexing his arms and shoulders, making sure he knows the best pose for his next mirror selfie. He doesn't care that you're doing your hair, he will tell you to move and hog the mirror to flex.

Using a hand held mirror? Well, I hope you brought two because he will take your mirror and check out his jawline and cheekbones. Even if you need it desperately, he won't listen and instead make out of pocket jokes, TOWARDS HIMSELF.

"God, you're so lucky" He says as he smirks to himself, winking in the mirror. "If I was a girl, I would shoot up a whole nursing home just to fuck myself."

THEODORE NOTT looks like he's held captive in every picture

Theo and you have this joke that he's completely whipped for you, because it's true. Anything you want, you get instantly. Anything you don't like, he'll fix instantly. He's so down bad for you that there's a joke in your friend group that you beat it into his head to worship you.

The joke became even more solidified when one day you posted a picture with Theo and it looked as if Theo just got yelled at by his mom. So, Theo took this joke and ran to the edge of the Earth with it.

Now, his favorite thing to do is to feed into it. Every time the two of you take photos, he always looks guilty and sad in it. He makes sure to frown extra hard and make his eyes water. He hangs his head lower and makes sure to look as if he's as miserable as possible.

"Theo!!" You shouted as you looked at the photos your camera roll. You and Theo just went to a fancy restaurant with friends to celebrate their birthday.

As you swiped through the photos, you saw Theo frowning and teary-eyed in every photo. You're not even sure how he managed to do that. You groaned as Theo walked into the room with a huge smile on his face, knowing exactly why you called me.

"If you look miserable in another photo again I'm literally gonna punch you," You say as you shove your phone into his, allowing himself to see the photos of you two.

He chuckled and smirked at you. "You know I could never be miserable with you." He gives you a small peck on the cheek and walks away, as if he solved any of the issues.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE dances to anything with no precautions

You were used to Lorenzo's random antics by now but one thing you could never get used to was his obsession with dancing to anything he hears. At first it was cute and reasonable. He danced to the music in stores, danced to random street performers, or the sound of the microwave beeping and begging to be opened.

But, his dancing has no limits. No matter the time or place, he will dance if there's a beat. And his dance skills are extremely below average, probably a D- if you're being honest. Although he could find a beat in anything, his body did not move to that beat no matter how hard he tried.

Once again, he got the urge to dance. But this time, to the sounds of your sniffling as you two finished watching "Everything Everywhere, All at Once". You could relate to almost every character and the inspiring message of pushing forward despite everything made you break down in an ugly cry.

As you sobbed into your 10th tissue, your choked breathes became a pattern. And although Lorenzo was comforting you and hated the sight of you crying, his body moved on his own.

He began to dance to you sobs as you started to cry even harder, hoping that it would make him stop. But it only made him dance harder.

Instantly, every feeling you felt towards the movie was gone as you watched your boyfriend do Fortnite dances extremely off-tempo and off-beat from your sobbing.

"L-Lorenzo" You said, trying to speak as you let out a soft chuckle at his horrible dance moves. "Lorenzo!!" You shouted as he stopped dancing and pouted.

"What?" he said with sass laced in his tone, as if he was in the right for dancing while his partner sobbed.

"Don't "what" me! I'm crying! Comfort me!" You say as you throw one of your snot filled tissues at him, making him scream as if you threw a grenade at him.

read more here! :D

[on-leatheredwings]

Second Chances 18+

Yandere! Older! Damian Wayne / AFAB Reader

> romantic, 18+ > tw/cw: dub-con, manipulation into sex, gaslighting(?) > request: Can we get damian gaslighting and manipulating a fem reader into sex when she tries to leave him please :? Like the typical "we've never talked about (insert issue) you know I wouldn't keep doing it if I knew it was upsetting you" and "let me make it up to you" > a/n: this reader is captain fix-a-hoe i can't > word count: 2187 > damian wayne is 21

You crane your neck away, but he takes it as an invitation. 

“Damian, I…” you struggle. 

His hands slide forward underneath your arms, kneading your chest. It does feel good, you regret to admit. 

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, trying to inch away but his hands drag you back once more. Not by force, just by suggestion. By pulling the invisible strings that play your body like a fiddle, and it seems this morning Damian wants it to play his favorite song. You shrugged on your flimsiest robe on your way out of bed this morning, and nothing else. So here you were, paying the consequences. 

“Mm, maybe later, Damian. I have–” you gasp at a wandering digit “–to run errands today.”

You hear a huff, feel an exhale hit the shell of your ear.

“Errands? Where? With who?” 

The questions, absolutely dripping with disdain and suspicion, make something in you snap. 

“Oh, that’s it– I want to break up!” you cry out, throwing your hands up. You bound out of his hold, whirling around.  

Damian flinches backward as if struck. He had snuck up behind you in the kitchen, peppering kisses along the column of your neck. A sweet gesture, but too little, too late. Fuck waiting until you were better prepared – better scripted – to break up with Damian. You just can’t take it anymore. 

Damian stares at you in disbelief.

“You... What?”

You sigh, annoyed at the squeeze of your heart at his dismayed expression. Life as Damian’s girlfriend had been great at first. Like, really great. 

Despite his surly exterior and sharp tongue, Damian proved to be nothing less than devoted, adoring, and awfully caring. He was giving and generous. During dates and every minute besides, he was a perfect gentleman. None of your exes had ever opened doors for you. Or pulled your chairs out. Or guided you gently through a crowd of paparazzi with a protective hand on the small of your back. 

Maybe it was his unique rich kid training that made him the perfect lover for you: the presence of a British butler in his developmental years paired with the strict assassin upbringing. Or maybe, as your friends claimed, you simply had standards below sea level and were lucky enough to fall for a man who could throw money around without blinking. 

You didn’t listen to them, didn’t question your good fortune. You had been glad Damian was in your life. You had been.

“I want to break up,” you say, nearly a whimper. You look away from his shell shocked face. He must have seen this coming, right? How could he not see this coming? You two seemed to barely be getting along these days.

You recall green eyes narrowing after a glance over your outfit. “... I never liked her,” from a sneered lip, when you mention you’re going to your friend’s birthday party. The guilt tripping that occurred once you got home. The unsaid accusations of entirely untrue infidelity. You recall many more instances identical to that. How draining it all was. How you rarely seemed to go anywhere without hesitation, a niggling feeling bidding you to see how Damian felt about it first. 

Without missing a beat, Damian’s jaw hardens. He folds his arms. 

“You want to break up,” he responds in a clipped voice. “Why.” 

‘Why,’ he asks. Though it was hardly a question. He was demanding you answer for yourself. Answer for your crime of daring to maintain agency in your life. How dare you dump him? You narrow your eyes.

“You… you isolate me,” you say, folding your arms and mirroring his stance. You wish you could get angrier. Damian could really bitch out in an argument when he wanted to. Fights felt more balanced if you decided to get angry too. If you didn’t let him kick you around. But any lingering fury has simmered into hurt at this point. Decayed into you prematurely grieving a good thing gone bad. 

“You accuse me of things. You don’t trust me! Or worse, you do trust me, and still want to monopolize me because I’m something you own. I… That’s not good,” you blurt.

Damian isn’t moved. He taps his foot, and your eye twitches. “Is that all?” he says.

Perhaps you did have enough anger, after all. Before you can curse him out, Damian takes a step forward, like a piece on a chess board. 

“If I had known I would have stopped. Immediately,” Damian presses, not looking very apologetic or thoughtful. He instead looks determined. He seems entirely like his old self, at the very beginning of your then-tenuous friendship. That was three years ago, and you liked to believe he had grown a lot since. 

You roll your eyes. “Okay. Good to know,” you return flatly, unsure what he expects you to do with that information. 

Another step, and he grasps your arm. Had it been anyone besides him, you would’ve felt fear. But Damian – for all his faults – could never hurt you. Even if he already has, you think drily.

His grip trails down to your hand, and brings it to his chest, above his heart. Your own heart skips a beat at the gesture. “I would have. You’re everything to me.” His heart beats under your palm. It beats for you, he always liked to say.

You cringe. Not at his words, but because of how they’re said. Damian wields them like a weapon. And they’re effective. You already feel guilt begin to fester.

You swat your hand away, scoffing and shaking your head. “It feels like half of the time, you say that to make me feel like shit. It’s… it’s manipulative.”

“Manipulative? So every time I’ve said I… care for you, you felt manipulated?” He looks at you, in a pitiful expression crossed between crestfallen and offended. You sigh, exhausted. That’s not what I meant, you want to interject, but he continues. “I feel… very deeply. For you.” 

Even now, sharing his feelings was hard for him. You feel proud that he’s trying. You feel angry that he’s trying. You feel angry that you’re the bad guy. The croak in his voice makes you want to reach for him, but...

“Feelings… feelings aren’t enough,” you say mournfully. You hug yourself, because you need one. And giving one wasn’t his place anymore. 

You two stand in silence in his kitchen, which you’ve shared together for a year now. You glance around. You spy your colorful cooking sets, the couple's aprons that hang beside the pantry, the photos of you two at Wayne family holiday parties stuck to the fridge, and other paraphernalia.

You haven’t even left yet, but already you can see the ghost of you that will haunt this house. The hollow chill of guilt sweeps through your body, but you ignore it. You instead tread to one of the kitchen barstools under Damian’s watchful eye and settle on the seat.

“I’ll… I’ll stay at a friend’s,” you say, fighting admirably to keep your voice from cracking. “And I’ll have all my stuff packed within a week.” And you can keep the cat, you want to jest, but you luckily were born blessed with the skill of reading the room. Damian blanches, as if realizing, finally, what you were saying.

“You’re leaving.” God, his utter shock was not making things easier on you. 

“We fight all the time now, Damian,” you reason, almost pleading with him. Why was he making this so hard? The entire situation seems so … undignified. ‘Unlike him,’ is what most people would say. But no, this is entirely like Damian. Always deceptively more delicate than what meets the eye. Always trusting you to hold his heart gently. Not rend it to pieces. Guilt swirls once more, while Damian’s shock yields to insistence. 

“We fight because we’re in love,” he asserts, confessing. You are in awe of his cheeks flushing - what a pure display to be had during a break up. “People fight when they’re in love. Sometimes.” You frown, knowing he’s referring to his father’s failed relationships. What great role models, you scoff inwardly. You had zero desire to emulate that dysfunction.

“... Don’t you?” he says, a desperate lilt in his voice. You bristle. “... Love me?” And the way he says it breaks something in you.

You respond, the words like ash on your tongue, “Of course I... I do love you, Damian. But–”

“I love you, too,” he says quickly. “... so please, don’t leave.” You start to get up from your seat, unable to withstand anymore of this, when Damian falls to his knees in front of you.

You fill with mortification that Damian may start begging. And you don’t know if you can withstand that. He’s Damian Wayne. He who does not beg. 

“... Please,” he begins, as if the word was physically taxing. For him, it probably was. Damian bows his head, dots kisses on the expanse of your thighs. Each kiss is loosening your resolve. Each a balm over bitter wounds. 

“You haven’t given me a fair chance to correct myself. That… that’s not fair. That’s cruelty,” he whispers, along with other such mutterings that drive knives into your heart.

How heartless you were being. Were you going to give up on him so easily? Had he not shown he could change? The guilt swarms into an evil, dark monster. One you know you cannot defeat. You throw back your head, trembling from his butterfly kisses.

“Let me… let me make it up to you,” he says after he finds you writhing under his lips. You don’t know what to say, mesmerized by the need in his eyes and the promise in his words. “I can be better. I will be better.”

No, your mind begs you to say.

Yet looking into those green eyes, lost in its dark forest, you can’t deny him.

“... Okay,” you condone. Your okay is barely audible, weak and helpless like pollen in the wind. But it’s enough for him. It’s going to be enough for you, too. It’s okay. He’s going to change. He knows if he doesn’t, you’ll leave. You’ll leave.

You sate yourself with these thoughts, numb to Damian’s continued affection. You finally do realize he’s still licking at you, when a pair of hands gently separate your knees. 

“Damian!” you exclaim, snapping your knees shut. Your robe flutters with the action as you look at him with disbelief. “D-Damian,” you say. His eyes flutter open at the calling of his name. You sharply inhale at the lustful glaze over his pretty eyes. 

“Let me show you how deeply I feel for you,” he requests. 

But you know this is … strange. Maybe even wrong, if the uncertainty in your gut meant anything. You had just agreed to mend your relationship. You didn’t need the throes of an orgasm to complicate and muddle your feelings.

“... Please.” His voice mutters into your thigh. You’re so close you feel the vibration of the sound, and your skin prickles over with goosebumps. That’s the third ‘please’ he’s said within the hour. It's usually three a day. “Unless," Damian says, brows pinched, "you do not want me anymore.” The look on his face makes you feel sick. 

You don’t know how you can ever leave him in good conscience. Damian’s grown, yes, but he’s still that confused, frustrated boy from when you met. Still searching for acceptance and belonging.

“Yes,” you blurt. “I want you, but–”

“Then, ‘but’ nothing. You are mine.” You fill with heat, from irritation as well as arousal. It’s not as though you’d stopped being attracted to him, after all.

“I–” am not yours, you begin to combat, when Damian licks a hot stripe up your cunt that makes your mind blue screen. 

“And of course, it goes back the same way. I am yours.”

Damian lowers his head, wasting no time in suckling on your clitoris. He knows exactly how you like it, after all. Your hands leave your side and find his hair. You pull on short raven locks, enough that it’s probably painful, but Damian doesn’t protest. 

Damian hikes your legs onto his shoulders, and he’s off to work as if you hadn’t been about to break up with him just ten minutes ago. You feel whiplash. It’s all back to normal. You’re together. He’s between your legs. And despite his administrations feeling great, amazing – it also somehow feels like punishment. 

He may need you, but you need him as well. Only he can make you feel like this. Only he has ever made you feel like this. The heavy tongue that’s probing into you, the hands whose thumbs draw circles on your skin – they’re his. The pressure building in your body, the pleasure being wrought from you – he causes it. The devotion, safety, security and love you have in your life – it’s due to him. 

When you eventually finish in his mouth, you come with a whimper, eagerly being lapped up by the boy before you. He's right. You do belong to him.

And a growing part of your mind is having a hard time finding that so wrong.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

The Alchemy

AU where Harry is the star quarterback at his college and y/n is an English major.

Based very loosely off The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

CW: Smut

Word Count: 6,871

Leaving my family to go to University was a bittersweet decision. My heart tugged at the thought of being away from them, but my passion for mastering the art of English pulled me towards my dream. My family had always been my biggest supporters and I wanted to make them proud by becoming an English professor. This meant leaving behind my comfortable life in a small suburban town in Florida to study abroad at one of the most prestigious universities. The campus was nestled in the very heart of where literary greats had once roamed and created their masterpieces. It was as if the walls exuded inspiration and creativity, urging me to chase after my dreams with even more fervor. Though I missed my family dearly, I knew that this journey would lead me to become the best version of myself and honor their unwavering support and love.

It was a whirlwind of experiences as I made my way through the unfamiliar streets. The currency conversion was a constant challenge, with every transaction feeling like a game of guesswork. And then there was the driving - on the opposite side of the road no less - which required all of my concentration to avoid any mishaps. But perhaps most daunting of all was the non-stop partying at pubs, a culture shock for someone like me who had grown up in a small town in America.

Thankfully, I was able to find a flat that was within walking distance from the school, and even luckier to have another American girl as my roommate. Mia was a sweet, bubbly girl from the middle of nowhere Kansas, embracing every aspect of British culture including the pub scene and the charming local lads.

Living with Mia meant constantly having people over, and it seemed like every night brought new faces into our home. I didn't mind too much, mostly enjoying the lively atmosphere and meeting new people. However, there were definitely some moments that tested my patience, like when one of Mia's friends named Arthur ended up getting sick and leaving his mark in our kitchen. Despite these occasional hiccups, I was grateful for this experience abroad and all the unique encounters it brought my way.

Though Mia's social butterfly nature could be trying at times, I appreciated her warm companionship in this foreign place. It was on one such night, after we had cleaned up the remnants of Arthur's ill-fated escapades, that we found ourselves cozied up with mugs of tea and watching the rain patter against the windows. 

Mia was unusually pensive as she stared out into the drizzly Manchester night. "You know," she began softly, "sometimes I wonder if I'm chasing the wrong dreams. My parents wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, something stereotypically successful, but I just wanted adventure. Now here I am, living it up in England, but it all feels...empty, like I'm still searching for meaning."

I nodded thoughtfully, sensing the vulnerability in her words. Though Mia put on a bubbly facade, there was more depth to her than met the eye. 

"I think the great thing about being here is that we have time to figure it all out," I offered gently. "We're writing our own stories, not just following someone else's script." 

Mia smiled, some of the spark returning to her eyes. "You're right. That's exactly why I love being here with you."

As the rain continued to drum against the windows, Mia and I sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Mia turned to me with a curious expression.

"Do you ever have doubts about your dreams, too?" Mia asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

I considered her question for a moment before responding, "All the time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm on the right path or if I'm just going through the motions."

Mia nodded understandingly, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of uncertainty. "It's scary, isn't it? The idea that we might wake up one day and realize we've been chasing a dream all along."

I placed a comforting hand on Mia's shoulder. "It is scary, but it's also part of the journey. We're allowed to question and evolve along the way."

She smiled weakly, her gaze drifting back to the rain-splattered window. "I guess that's what makes life interesting, right? The uncertainty of it all."

Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Mia got up to answer it, revealing a group of our friends who had decided to brave the rainy night for an impromptu gathering.

"Come in, come in!" Mia exclaimed cheerfully, ushering everyone inside. The room quickly filled with laughter and chatter as our friends settled in.

As I looked around the group, my eyes landed on a few familiar faces who have crossed paths with me several times before. Among them was Arthur, a friendly face that always brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. As everyone piled into the room, my gaze wandered to him - Harry Styles, the renowned quarterback of our school's football team. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement at being in the presence of such a well-known athlete. When I first arrived from the United States, I had assumed the term "football" referred to what we call soccer back home. But as I soon discovered, American Football was just as beloved and popular in the UK.

Harry noticed me looking his way and met my gaze. There was an intensity in his green eyes that made me quickly avert my own, focusing instead on my friend Grace who was animatedly sharing a story next to me. 

I tried to tune into her words, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the handsome footballer across the room. By all accounts, Harry was cocky, brash, and a bit of a player. And yet, I couldn't deny there was something magnetic about him. He carried himself with a self-assured swagger, his athletic frame filling out his clothes in a way that betrayed his strength. 

I scolded myself internally. Just because he's nice to look at doesn't change the fact that he seems like an arrogant jock. Still, when our eyes met again, I felt a flutter in my stomach I couldn't ignore. 

Harry said something to his friend that made the group erupt into laughter. He flashed a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I quickly looked away once more, but the image of his smile lingered in my mind.

Get it together, I told myself sternly. Harry is off-limits. With his reputation, getting involved would only lead to trouble. I turned my focus back to Grace, pushing all thoughts of Harry's eyes, smile and broad shoulders out of my head. 

For the rest of the night, I avoided looking in Harry's direction, though I could feel his gaze on me periodically as the hours wore on. By the time people started trickling out, I felt certain I had avoided any direct interaction with the dashing footballer. 

That is, until I went to lock the door behind the last guest and found him standing there. He flashed that crooked smile again as he leaned against the door frame. "See you around, Y/N," he said, holding my gaze for a moment before disappearing into the night. I stood frozen, my heart racing as I replayed those five simple words in my head.

As I stood there in shock at Harry's unexpected presence, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. His parting words echoed in my mind, leaving me slightly breathless and unsure of what to make of the situation. Gathering my composure, I locked the door behind him and turned to find Mia watching me with a knowing smile.

"Looks like someone caught your eye, Y/N," Mia teased, nudging me playfully. "Harry Styles, huh? Quite the charmer."

I flushed slightly at her comment, trying to brush off any implications. "Oh, come on, Mia. It's not like that," I deflected, hoping to downplay the significance of the moment.

But Mia wasn't convinced. "Sure, sure," she replied with a wink. "Just remember, not all that glitters is gold."

Her words lingered in my mind as I bid her goodnight and retreated to my room. Sitting on my bed, I couldn't shake off the image of Harry's smile or the way he had looked at me in that brief moment by the door. The conflicting thoughts swirled in my head, leaving me restless and contemplative.

The following day at school, as I made my way through the bustling halls, I noticed a familiar figure leaning against the lockers up ahead. It was Harry, his usual confident demeanor on full display as he chatted with his friends. As our eyes met briefly, he flashed a grin in my direction before turning back to his conversation.

Feeling a surge of boldness, I approached him tentatively. "Hey, Harry," I greeted him, trying to keep my tone casual despite the flutter in my stomach.

"Hey there, Y/N," he responded with a smirk, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Didn't think you'd show up here again so soon."

I felt my cheeks flush at his words. Clearly he was referring to my abrupt exit last night after our brief encounter at the door. I scrambled to think of a clever response. 

"Well, we do go to the same school," I pointed out, trying to keep my voice light despite the nerves I felt. 

Harry chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he regarded me with amusement. 

"True enough," he conceded. "But I got the sense you were trying to avoid me last night. Did I make you nervous?"

His bluntness took me aback. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Harry's eyes danced with mirth at my flustered state. 

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased. 

I took a steadying breath, determined not to let him get the best of me. "You wish," I retorted, hoping the bravado in my voice sounded more convincing than I felt. 

Harry laughed, a rich warm sound that made my knees weak. Our eyes locked and in that moment, it was like the noisy hallway melted away and there was only the two of us.

"Feisty. I like it," he murmured. Before I could respond, the warning bell rang, snapping us both back to reality. 

"See you around, Y/N," Harry said with a wink before disappearing into the swarm of students heading to class. 

My body froze in place, heart thudding against my ribs as I gazed at the infamous Harry. He exuded an undeniable air of trouble, and yet, as our charged banter replayed in my mind, I couldn't deny the adrenaline pumping through my veins. With a determined stride, I made my way to class, refusing to let this boy be the cause of my tardiness.

I took a seat in my Studies of Shakespeare class, the one subject I truly loved. The works of William Shakespeare never failed to captivate me, and if you could understand the Elizabethan lingo, his witty humor shone through brilliantly. Unfortunately, this particular teacher seemed to have a talent for draining all the life and humor out of these masterpieces.

I tried to focus as the professor droned on about the themes in Romeo and Juliet, but my mind kept wandering back to my encounter with Harry. Something about our charged banter had awakened feelings in me that I didn't quite understand. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a folded piece of paper land on my desk as if taken out of a scene from a movie. I looked around furtively before opening it. In an unfamiliar scrawling handwriting it read:

"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." - H

I felt a thrill run through me and quickly tucked the note into my bag before the professor could notice. So Harry was in this class too? I scanned the room subtly until I spotted him a few rows behind me. He caught my eye and gave me a roguish wink.

I turned back to the front, trying to ignore the simmering exhilaration I felt. Over the next few days, the notes kept coming during Shakespeare class, each with a quote or two from the Bard himself. They were usually cheeky and flirtatious, hinting at some blossoming rapport between us.

I found myself anticipating each one, my heart skipping a beat when I would spot a new folded note on my desk. Our eyes would meet across the room, a hidden smile just between us.

After class one day, as I gathered my things, I sensed Harry approach my desk. "So when's our study session?" he asked nonchalantly, though there was a glint of something more in his eyes. I hesitated, knowing I should keep my distance, yet unable to deny I was intrigued.

I nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, I don't know... I've heard you're not the most dedicated studier," I teased, giving him a playful smile.

Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I may not look like it, but I'm quite the Shakespeare aficionado," he replied with a grin.

I raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Is that so? Well, I suppose we could arrange a study session... if you can prove your expertise," I challenged, a hint of challenge in my tone.

His grin widened, accepting the challenge. "Consider it done. How about we meet at the library tomorrow after school?" Harry suggested, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated for a moment, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. "Alright, it's a date then," I agreed, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Harry flashed me one last grin before disappearing into the bustling hallway. My heart raced with both nervousness and exhilaration as I packed up my belongings, eager for our upcoming study session.

The following day at the library, I found myself anxiously scanning the room for Harry. My pulse quickened when I spotted him sitting at a table in the corner, a stack of Shakespearean plays spread out in front of him.

I made my way over to him, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside me. "Ready to impress me with your Shakespeare knowledge?" I asked with a teasing smile as I took a seat across from him.

Harry flashed me a charming grin. "Just watch and learn," he said confidently, picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet and flipping to a random page.

As he began to recite lines from the play with passion and flair, I couldn't help but be captivated by his enthusiasm. His eyes lit up as he delved into each line, bringing the centuries-old words to life in a way that was both mesmerizing and captivating.

By the time our study session ended, I found myself completely enthralled by Harry's interpretation of Shakespeare's works. As we gathered our things to leave, he turned to me with a twinkle in his eye, he knew a lot more about the works than he let on to.

Harry turned to me, “So now that I’ve shown you i’m smart, I know Shakespeare, when are you coming to one of my games?” he asked confidently.

I was taken aback by his forward invitation. Attending one of his football games felt intimate in a way that made me nervous. 

"Oh, um, I don't know..." I fumbled over my words, suddenly feeling shy. 

Harry tilted his head, giving me a crooked smile. "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even give you a personal tour of the field afterwards," he joked. 

I bit my lip, considering it. There was no denying I felt drawn to him, despite trying to keep my distance. And the thought of seeing him command the field sent a little thrill through me. 

"Alright, I suppose I could stop by," I finally conceded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously. 

Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant! Our next game is on Friday. I'll leave a ticket for you at will call," he said eagerly.

I nodded, butterflies taking flight in my stomach. "Okay, yeah. I’ll see you then," I replied softly. 

Harry gave me a dazzling smile and I felt my knees go weak.

Friday night arrived and I found myself filled with nervous excitement as I made my way to the football stadium. I couldn't believe I had actually agreed to come watch Harry play. As I approached the ticket booth, I gave my name and they handed me the ticket Harry had left for me. 

I found my seat in the packed bleachers and waited anxiously for the game to start. When the players rushed onto the field, I immediately spotted Harry's mop of curly hair. He looked focused and determined as he took his position on the field. 

As the game began, I was immediately drawn in by Harry's commanding presence on the field. His movements were fluid and precise, each pass and dodge executed with passion and skill. With each successful play, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, mirroring my own excitement. It was impossible not to join in, jumping to my feet and cheering for Harry along with everyone else.

At halftime, Harry made his way over to the sidelines, sweat glistening on his forehead and tattooed arms, his chest heaving from exertion. As he scanned the crowd for familiar faces, his eyes locked onto mine and a wide grin spread across his face. He waved enthusiastically, causing my cheeks to flush as I shyly waved back in return. 

In the second half of the game, Harry's presence seemed to radiate even more brightly. With each touchdown he scored, his fists pumped triumphantly in the air. The crowd roared and cheered as he ripped off his helmet and hoisted it victoriously above his head, his teammates swarming around him in celebration.

As the stadium emptied out, I stayed behind with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I couldn't wait to see Harry once again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the locker room, his hair still damp from his post-game shower but his eyes shining with joy.

"So, what did you think?" he asked eagerly as he approached me.

"You were truly spectacular out there," I gushed earnestly. A wide grin stretched across Harry's face.

"Come on, let me give you that promised tour," he said playfully, offering me his arm. Laughing, I happily took it and followed him onto the empty field, my heart racing with excitement and admiration for the amazing athlete by my side.

Harry led me onto the empty stadium field, the night air crisp and cool against our skin. He pointed out spots on the grass where pivotal plays had happened, describing them with a passion that revealed his deep love for the game. 

I found myself enthralled, leaning into him as we walked, his arm solid and warm beneath my hand. When we reached the middle of the field, he turned to face me. His eyes were soft, searching my face in the dim glow of the stadium lights. 

"You know, I was afraid you wouldn't come tonight," he admitted quietly. 

I tilted my head. "Why's that?"

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "You never seemed to like me much before. I figured I wasn't your type."

Heat rose to my cheeks. He wasn't wrong - I'd unfairly judged him as arrogant and cocky. But tonight had shattered those assumptions. 

"I guess I realized there's more to you than meets the eye," I said softly. 

Harry's smile widened. He lifted his hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath caught at his touch. Slowly, he leaned in. I let my eyes fall shut in anticipation...

But suddenly, the stadium lights flickered off, plunging us into darkness. We jumped apart in surprise. 

Harry laughed. "Guess that's our cue to head out." 

He took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and led me towards the parking lot. I walked close beside him, hyper-aware of his palm pressed against mine.

As he towered over me, Harry's eyes scanned the street, searching for a car. "Where did you park?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

I shifted nervously on my feet, avoiding eye contact. "Oh. Uh. I didn't drive. I just live around the street," I murmured, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The thought of navigating English roads was terrifying to me.

A warm chuckle escaped from Harry's lips as he looked back down at me. "I can drive you home, love," he offered, extending a hand towards me. His scent wafted towards me - a mix of cologne and something woodsy - and I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my stomach at his closeness.

As Harry and I walked towards his car, our hands still entwined, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation build within me. "So, tell me more about this amazing game-winning touchdown," I teased, trying to break the silence that had fallen between us.

Harry laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced at me sideways. "Oh, you mean the one where I body-slammed the other team's runner into oblivion?" He pretended to flex his muscles playfully. "That was pretty epic, if I do say so myself."

I shook my head, feigning disbelief. "You're such a show-off," I said with a grin. "I bet you were the star of the school playground too."

Harry snorted. "Hardly. I was more of a loner growing up. Spent most of my time with my nose buried in books."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And here I thought all jocks were brain-dead."

He laughed again, his laughter echoing through the empty streets as we walked towards his car. When we finally reached it, Harry unlocked the door and gestured for me to get inside. As I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but notice how perfectly he filled the driver's seat - broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips and long legs. The image of him all sweaty and wet from a shower flashed through my mind, making my cheeks heat up again.

"So," Harry began as he started the engine and pulled out onto the road, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, "tell me more about yourself."

I felt myself blush even harder at his directness but decided to play along. "Well," I said slowly, thinking quickly. "I'm a huge bookworm too - Harry Potter is probably my favorite series ever."

Harry chuckled softly as he glanced at me briefly before looking back at the road. "I can see why you fit right in here in England then."

We drove through the quiet streets in companionable silence for a while before Harry spoke up again. "You know, you don't have to act all tough around me," he said quietly, his eyes still on the road as he slowed down at a stoplight.

I turned to face him fully now, surprised by his words. "I wasn't trying to be tough," I said defensively. "I just didn't want you to think that... well, never mind what I didn't want you to think," I muttered under my breath.

Harry's face softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear once again - a gesture that sent shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the car interior. "It's okay," he murmured soothingly as he took my hand in his once more and squeezed gently before letting go when the light turned green again.

The rest of our drive was filled with more easy conversation punctuated by moments of awkward silence broken only by the sounds of our breathing and occasional traffic noises outside. When we finally pulled up outside my house I found myself hesitating before opening the car door knowing that this was goodbye.

Under the dim glow of the street lamp, I tentatively turned to face Harry. "Thanks for...for tonight," I stammered out, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. 

His emerald eyes twinkled mysteriously as he simply nodded and began unbuckling his seatbelt. His eyes never left mine, setting off a simmering warmth between us that was hard to ignore. 

"I should probably walk you to your door," he said softly, accentuating each word with an inexplicably seductive lilt. My heart pounded in my chest as we exited the car and made our way towards my apartment.

Once at the front door, we stood facing each other in silence, the air around us thick with unspoken words and desires. I felt his strong fingers gently cradle my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. The intensity of this simple touch sent sparks racing down my spine, pooling heat in places I hadn't even known existed.

"Can I come inside?" His voice was barely a whisper but it echoed loudly in my ears.

My mind screamed caution but my body had other plans. “Yes,” I breathed out, unlocking the door and pulling him inside.

Inside, Harry's lips found mine in a searing kiss that left me breathless. His tongue teased against mine, creating a warm and delicious friction that sent shivers down my legs. As he pressed his hips against me, I could feel the unmistakable hardness growing between us. Our hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring new territory and seeking pleasure through every touch.

Harry's fingers made their way to the waistband of my skirt, pulling it down over my hips and letting it fall to the ground. He lifted me up onto the edge of a nearby table, spreading my legs slightly as he stood between them. The feel of his fingers brushing against my inner thigh caused me to gasp and arch my back in anticipation.

Harry pulled back abruptly,“I’m sorry,” He started, “that was really inappropriate.”

As Harry apologized, his eyes were drawn to the hint of my arousal peeking out from between my legs. His hesitation vanished as his fingers brushed against my wetness once more, this time without pulling away. He groaned in approval and leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine once more. I craved him in the worst ways.

Our tongues tangled as he pushed me back onto the table, spreading my legs further apart. His hands found their way under my shirt, skimming over my stomach before lifting it up, exposing my bra-clad breasts. He took a deep breath, inhaling my scent and trailing his fingers lightly across one tight nipple.

"Harry," I moaned, cavinginto his touch. "Please don't stop."

He smirked wickedly down at me before pulling back slightly. In one swift motion, he yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it aside carelessly. Grabbing hold of both sides of my bra, he pulled it down too with such force that my breasts were freed from their confinement.

I gasped at the sudden rush of air hitting my sensitive nipples but before I could catch my breath, he took one of them into his mouth sucking hard while pinching the other between two fingers, teasing it mercilessly.

"Fuck," I whimpered, clawing at the table underneath me as pleasure coursed through me like lightning. The intense mix of pain and pleasure sent waves of desire crashing over me as I felt myself becoming wetter with every passing second.

Sliding one hand down towards his pants, I slowly undid the button and zipper before slipping my hand inside his boxers to grip him firmly around his growing erection. He groaned into my breast at the contact sending shivers down my spine.

"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered hoarsely against my skin leaving a trail of saliva along my collarbone as he ran his tongue upwards caressingly .

"Yes," I breathed out between parted lips unable to form complete words due to the intensity of emotions running through me. 

My heart raced as his erection throbbed in my hand. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, mixed with the desire that seemed to emanate from him. His other hand slid down my back, over my ass cheeks, and gripped them roughly, pulling me closer against his hardness.

"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are? You and your little shy good girl act" he growled into my neck, nipping at the skin there softly. With one swift movement, he lifted me up onto the countertop, pushing my legs apart with his hips. His mouth trailed kisses along my jawline, down my throat, and on my breasts. 

I arched my back slightly offering myself to him more fully as he took a hungry mouthful of one of my nipples into his mouth sucking on it hard while pinching the other between his fingers causing a sharp intake of breath from me which made him smile devilishly before moving on to devour the other one.

My body trembled with anticipation as he bit my neck playfully, his rough hands sliding over my hips and ass cheeks before pulling me against him. His cock twitched against my wet core, making me whimper in want. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"Harry," I moaned, my voice reduced to a desperate whimper as he continued teasing me with his words and touches. "Please..."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with our ragged breathing and the occasional moan. I could feel myself getting lost in the sensations, my body responding eagerly to his movements. His hands were everywhere, tracing over my curves and gripping me tightly as he pounded into me.

My own hands were roaming his back, digging into his flesh as I tried to hold on to something amidst the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through me. Every inch of my body felt on fire, and I couldn't get enough.

"Fuck," he grunted, his face contorting with pleasure. "You feel so good."

I whimpered in response, unable to form any coherent words as he continued to move inside me relentlessly. My whole world had narrowed down to this moment – his body against mine, the sound of our bodies coming together in a perfect rhythm.

My mind was blissfully blank as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming rougher and more urgent. I could feel my climax building up within me, like a fire threatening to consume me whole.

And then it hit me like a tidal wave – intense and all-consuming. My back arched off the counter as I cried out his name, my body trembling with pleasure as every nerve ending exploded with ecstasy.

He followed soon after, letting out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside me. We stayed still for a moment, trying to catch our breaths and bask in the aftermath of our passion.

But eventually reality came crashing back around us. Panic started creeping up inside me as I tried to gather my thoughts and make sense of what had just happened. 

As I lay there, my heart still pounding in my chest, he gently pulled out of me and straightened up. His eyes, dark with desire just moments ago, now softened with a mixture of tenderness and regret.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of our heavy breathing. "I shouldn't have let things go this far."

I sat up slowly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me – confusion, guilt, and a lingering sense of pleasure that refused to dissipate. 

"It's not just your fault," I murmured, avoiding his gaze as I tried to gather my clothes around me. "I wanted this too."

He reached out a hand to touch my arm, but hesitated before making contact.

"We should talk about this," he said finally, his tone serious. "About what it means for us."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settling between us. What had started as a moment of passion had now morphed into something more complicated, something that demanded attention and discussion.

As we dressed in silence, the air in the room felt charged with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The intensity of our physical connection lingered like a ghost between us, refusing to be ignored.

We began to gather our clothes from around the room, now tainted with the evidence of our reckless choices. Harry buried his face into his shirt before pulling it on, perhaps ruminating on what just occurred, or maybe trying to drown out the reality with the lingering scent of his cologne.

"Y/n," he started after a long silence, pulling his trousers up. His voice sounded strained, an indication that he was struggling with the right choice of words. "I... I didn't mean for this to... I mean, I like spending time with you." He sighed heavily, rubbing his face between his large palms.

I remained silent as I fastened my bra. The finality in his voice was suffocating, making it harder for me to breathe with each passing moment. I felt my heart thumping loudly in my chest – a crude reminder of the complication we had willingly dived into.

"I like you, Y/N," he said finally, his voice a hoarse whisper. The words hung in the air between us, hovering like a dense fog, obscuring any clarity that might lie beyond.

I stopped fumbling with my blouse, my fingers stilled by his confession. "Harry," I began, my voice barely audible. Fear clung to me, making my words tremble.

"I know," he cut me off before I could finish what I started. "I know we're both in different places... Me with football and you with your studies." There was a tingling silence after his statement, as if he was waiting for me to confirm or deny his declaration.

I sighed heavily, tugging at the hem of my blouse, feeling the cool fabric against my still heated skin. "It's not that simple Harry," I admitted, blinking back tears that had started to sting my eyes. "This," I motioned around the room, encompassing our discarded underwear strewn haphazardly around the room - a silent testament to the passion that had just consumed us, "this complicates things."

He ran his hand through his tousled hair and nodded solemnly. "I understand," he replied, a hint of resignation etching lines onto his face. His gaze was heavy with something akin to regret as it met mine.

My breath hitched in my throat at the intensity of his stare. I wanted desperately to reach out and ease the burden that seemed to weigh heavily on him. But reality was an insidious shadow that lurked in our midst, reminding us of the impracticality of our desires.

"I think it's better if we keep our distance for now," Harry broke the silence after what felt like an eternity. His words were like cold water dousing the fire that our bodies had kindled only moments ago.

A feeling of sudden emptiness clawed at me. His words, though probably said in goodwill, felt like a punch to my gut. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

I nodded, unable to bring myself to utter a word. He stepped towards me and for a moment I thought he would pull me into his arms one last time. But he merely extended a hand that I shook lightly, the gesture felt impersonal after the intimacy we had just shared.

Without another word, he turned and left the room. I stood still in the silence that followed, the sound of his departing footsteps echoing in my ears long after he was gone.

Mia came home later that night, oblivious to the charged atmosphere that still lingered, suffocating and heavy in the air. Her chatter about an extra credit assignment she’d completed was a stark contrast to the silence that had enveloped the room just hours ago. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” she asked suddenly, noticing my distant gaze. I gave her a weak smile in response before excusing myself to bed.

As I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Harry's words echoed through my mind. "I think it's better if we keep our distance for now." His voice was etched into my memory, roughened by regret and something else I couldn't quite place. His face bore an expression that told me this was as hard for him as it was for me.

The next day was a blur. My classes seemed trivial compared to the turmoil swirling in my mind. My interactions with others were mechanical and flat as if I was watching myself from outside my body.

Football practice was going on when I walked past the field on my way back from the campus library. My eyes instinctively sought out Harry among the sea of players. I found him focused on his game, every muscle in his body straining as he kicked the ball towards the goalpost.

His world seemed unchanged—still revolving around football—while mine felt like it had been knocked off its axis.

The following weeks were no easier. Everywhere I went, I could feel his presence like a phantom pain - a dull ache that refused to fade away. In every conversation, every song playing in the background, every corner of campus - Harry was there.

I knew we had made a rational decision, given our circumstances. But my heart couldn't comprehend what my mind had already accepted.

Months passed and winter set in, blanketing Manchester in white. Serene and beautiful yet so melancholy it mirrored my mood perfectly. The once familiar campus looked different under the soft glow of the snow as if to mirror the change that had occurred in my life.

One evening, as I was walking back from the library, I spotted Harry sitting alone on a bench, bundled up in a thick coat, his breath misting in the frigid air. His eyes were trained on the football field, currently blanketed by snow, and his hands were tucked into his pockets, his usual energy replaced by a pensive quietness.

I hesitated, weighing my options. We hadn't spoken since that night – the night when our worlds collided and then abruptly fell apart. But something drew me towards him – an inexplicable magnetism I had been fighting for so long.

Stepping tentatively closer, I cleared my throat to announce my presence. "Harry," I said softly, trying not to startle him.

He looked up at the sound of my voice, surprise flickering across his features before they settled into guarded neutrality. "Y/N," he responded with a curt nod, but made no move to invite me to sit.

Taking a leap of faith, I lowered myself onto the bench next to him, maintaining some distance while also bracing for the icy cold through my jeans. For several minutes we sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the snowy field.

"I've missed you." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

He turned toward me then, his emerald eyes soft and searching as they met mine. His lips opened as if to say something but closed again as if reconsidering his words.

"Y/N..." His voice trailed off and there was a long pause before he continued. "I’ve missed you too."

Relief washed over me at his confession but it was quickly replaced with a gnawing sadness as I realized that missing each other wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between us. Our realities were still the same - he was still the star football player with ambitions bigger than Manchester itself and I was still an English major trying to carve out a place for myself in academia.

“Do you ever think about…?” I started, swallowing hard as I tried to voice the question that had been eating at me.

“Us?” He completed my sentence, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was heavy but he held it steady, openly showing the vulnerability he usually kept hidden beneath his star athlete facade. “All the time.”

The honesty in his confession hit me harder than I expected. We were both stuck in our respective worlds, looking at each other from afar but never truly reaching out.

I took a deep breath, feeling the biting winter air fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. “We can’t keep doing this, Harry,” I said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

He looked at me then, his gaze filled with understanding and something else I couldn't quite place. “I know,” he replied softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

The future was uncertain and full of challenges. But if there was one thing I had learnt from this whole ordeal, it was that some chances are worth taking. No matter how daunting they may seem.