#except he’d press her face into the pillow

[evansbby]

what would POYT steve have done if he saw peter and his omega together before him and omega got together?

would he beat peter up?

would he have cornered omega?

Good question! I never thought about that before! I can imagine Steve would be caught off guard a bit, and he’d feel a lot of emotions at once. Mainly anger. Bc how dare this nerdy omega from his class be kissing and holding hands with some random skinny nobody boy??? Could she possibly have a boyfriend?

And it would really irk Steve but he wouldn’t understand why… he’d rationalise in his head that it’s bc an omega should be with an alpha… not whatever this random guy is. Yeah, that’s totally the reason why he’s so affected, it’s not like Steve’s jealous, pffft… definitely not jealous.

Then some juvenile behaviour would ensue. Steve would trip someone up and they’d go flying into omega, who would fall at the impact. Then Steve and co would laugh at her. Then Peter would try and stand up to Steve, and that would give Steve (and Sam and Bucky) a reason to beat Peter up😩

But it would end with omega cleaning up Peter’s wounds, and Steve feeling not nearly as fulfilled or happy.

[chrisevansonly]

Nap Time

lando norris x wife reader

summary: lando’s favourite time of day is nap time, and he does everything he can to make it home in time

warnings: none, very fluffy!

a/n: i know im so bad with updating now, life is insane for me but i promise ill be trying to get more done, this is bad and short but 🥲🩷

The house was quiet, it was another rainy day in London but the sound was almost enough to lull you to sleep along with little 3 week old Amelia Norris. The absolute apple of both yours and Lando’s eyes, she was the most special gift to your family.

Everyday around four in the afternoon Amelia would go down for another nap, though mostly all she did was eat and sleep, Lando never missed an afternoon nap time with his little angel.

Lando had been gone all day doing press and taking a few meetings with the team, and it was nearing four now, but you weren’t worried.

Lando never missed her afternoon nap.

Amelia was changed into a comfy onesie, her soft sleep pillow nestled in the middle of your king sized mattress. Though you didn’t co-sleep, these naps were an exception, mainly because you stayed awake and let the father daughter duo have their rest.

“I’m here! I made it!” came Lando’s voice softly as he came into the bedroom, a soft smile on his face seeing you just finishing putting her sleeper on.

“Perfect timing baby, as usual..”

Before picking up his little girl he came to you, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his hand rubbing up and down your back.

“How was today Lan?”

“Long, tiring and boring..just wanted to be here with my girls all day”

Smiling you handed him his sweatpants to change into

“Well now you’re here and can spend the rest of the day loving on us hmm?”

Lando couldn’t agree more, once he’d gotten rid of his dirty clothes from the day he pulled on his sweatpants and picked up the now sleeping Amelia.

“Hi my angel…daddy missed you so much”

Seeing the Brit cuddle her to his chest was enough to make you swoon, he was the best dad to her, so gentle and protective, a daddy’s girl she’d be there was no doubt about it.

Laying her softly down on her sleep pillow he pulled a little quilt over her before getting comfy on his side of the bed, one arm laying over the pillow, careful not to disturb the sleeping baby.

After getting into your own comfortable clothes you joined the two, of them in bed, leaning your back against the head board as you pulled your book from the bedside table. It was almost comical how quickly Lando could fall asleep, but it made you smile.

“Sleep well my loves…” your voice softly filled the space around you.

Lando had never missed a nap time, and he didn’t plan to anytime soon.

[emmyrosee]

Can I request a little thing with Sukuna where they’re having a soft moment on his bed or something and he pulls reader in for a hug before places slow kisses onto her neck?

The newscaster on the tv is long forgotten as Sukuna’s attentions are directed to you and you alone, their voice dull and droning as he takes his time focusing on you.

Next to him, on your back with your head turned to the side away from him as you giggle at something on your feed, you’re completely unbothered by the feeling of his eyes on you. He bites his lip at the sight of your shaking shoulders before extending a long arm to wrap around you, snaking across your shoulders and squeezing you tight, relishing in the small, surprised squeal you let out, “what’re you watching that you can’t show your perfect, funny, handsome boyfriend?”

“Look,” you mewl, and he pulls you into his side. You turn your phone to him, presenting him with a video of a dog waking up with its owner in an (allegedly) funny way.

Well, it was. But he’d never tell you that.

“It’s cute right?” You mewl, and he takes the phone from your hands and puts it on the pillow behind you.

“I’m cuter,” he murmurs.

“You are,” you assure, flipping onto your side to face him. He smirks as you do, your faces only a few inches apart. You nudge his legs to become tangled with yours, and he allows it with a small hum. “There’s no way you’re jealous of a dog on TikTok though, right?”

“So what if I am?” Sukuna asks, and you giggle. “I can’t make exceptions for you ogling at every cute creature you see- where’s the line?”

“You’re my favorite cute thing,” you hum, and he gags. “What! You can say it but I can’t?”

“Exactly.” The hand on your body wanders, over your side and arm, using his knuckles to delicately touch you. He slips his other arm under your pillow to finally close the distance between you both, the arm you’re now laying on caressing the back of your head while his free arm moves over the space of your back. You burrow into his chest, your own fingers gently playing with the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. He huffs and buries his head deeper into you, and you gasp as his lips find their way to your neck, peppering down your jawline before taking home in your neck.

“Sukuna-“

“Mhmm? You’re interrupting me.”

You snicker, “jus’ not used to you being so affectionate.” You shiver as his tongue licks over your flaring pulse point before going back and pressing wet kisses to your sensitive neck. “Tickles.”

“Good,” he murmurs, biting softly to make you writhe, only to soothe that with a kiss. “Submit to me and maybe I’ll stop.”

“What if I don’t want you to stop?”

He snickers softly. The hand on your back rubs soothing circles and the one caressing your head massages the nape of your neck, and you feel your eyes growing heavier at the orchestra of sensations that work together to relax you.

“No marks,” you warn him, voice a slight slur from being so soothed. He grunts in agreement, but he does suck ever so slightly behind your ear, and you tug his hair. He hisses and glares at you. “No. Marks.”

“Alright, fuck, no marks,” he grumbles. “Didn’t know I was in the presence of the fuckin’ fun police.”

“I’m always fun.”

And even though a protesting tease dances on his lips, Sukuna says nothing, merely leaning down to press and lave his tongue at the base of your neck by your collarbone. You mewl, and he chuckles and sucks there, and you know you’ll have to cover those bruises with a higher-collared shirt.

You don’t have it in you to scold it again. Not when you’re melting like chocolate in his hand.

[mapis-putellas]

Emotional support bunny

Pairing: Nat x you

Words: 1362

Warnings: none

Summary: you gift a stuffed bunny to Natasha on your one year anniversary. She adores it, names it, and promptly sleeps with it every single night. Well, that was until disaster strikes and bunny goes missing.

Notes: It’s been months. I have no explanation other than I’ve had some major writers block. I am, so sorry. And I hope this makes up for it.

It was on your one year anniversary that you’d gifted it to her. A small, grey bunny adorned in a cute black t-shirt with the phrase, this is my emotional support bear written on the front. It was meant as a joke. At least, that’s how you intended it to be at first. She was Natasha Romanoff. The black widow. Why would the black widow want anything to do it’s something so childish?

But surprisingly, she’d been delighted, and she’d quickly given it a name. Tiny. Tiny the bunny. For the first few days, tiny had sat on her dresser next to a photograph of you and her together. Natasha would give it soft smile and fond touch as she passes, and that was that.

But then, tiny would appear in your bed. Just during that day at first, propped up against the pillows when neither of you were there. But then one night, after returning home from a mission with Yelena and Clint, you noticed tiny was neither on her dresser or propped up against the pillows.

Upon closer inspection, as you’d crawled into the bed next to her, you realised that the reason tiny wasn’t in either of his usual spaces was because he was held clutched to Natasha’s chest. Your heart immediately melts at the sight, and after pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you’d laid down and pulled her close to your chest before too drifting off to sleep.

From that moment forward -with the occasional exception of course ;) - tiny was in your bed every single night. Sometimes Natasha cuddled him, and sometimes you would because Natasha liked him to smell of you. Natasha had never been too settled when it came to sleep. Insomnia, nightmares. You helped of course, but there was something about tiny that would settle her immediately. You guessed it had something to do with healing her inner child.

Tiny would soon start coming on missions too. Of course he remained safely hidden in her bag, out of sight and out of mind from everyone else, but knowing he was there often helped. A reminder of sorts that she always had a piece of you with her no matter where she went.

Everything was great. Until it wasn’t.

You see, Natasha had misplaced tiny before. Whether it be he’d slipped out of bed during one of her restless nights of sleep or he’d fallen to the bottom of her bag after forgetting he was there and unpacking everything but him. But she’d never completely lost him before. Or well, she hadn’t until now. And her reaction to losing him wasn’t anything like you expected.

You’d walked into the bedroom to see her clad in nothing but a shirt and underwear determinedly ripping the blankets off of your shared bed. The rest of the room was a mess too, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you pocket your phone and make your way over to her.

“Nat?” You question, reaching out to touch her arm.

She startles at the touch as she whips herself round to face you, and you hold up your arms to show her you meant no harm as you take a small step backwards. “Baby, what’s going on?” You slowly lower your arms as you sit on the now bare mattress and give the shirt burying her small frame a gentle tug, coaxing her closer.

She steps in between your open legs, and you wrap one of your arms just beneath her rear end as the other one comes up to brush a messy strand of hair out of her face. Her eyes, you realise now, are bloodshot, bottom lip quivering as if she was doing everything possible to stop herself from crying.

You frown in concern as you give her thigh a gentle tug, coaxing it over your lap and against your hip. She complies, and you wrap an arm around her waist to keep her supported as she brings the other leg up so she was effectively straddling your lap.

She burrows her face into your neck, and your heart breaks when you feel hot tears beginning to stain your neck. “What’s going on my love?” You murmur, bringing one hand up to settle on the back of her neck.

Natasha shakes her head with a soft sniffle, and you frown as you give her a soft squeeze, not really understanding why she didn’t want to confide to you but happy to sit here and hold her for as long as she needed. It takes a while, but she does eventually sit herself up in your arms. Your arms move from resting against her shoulder blades to just above her behind, fingers slipping beneath her oversized shirt and grazing across soft skin.

“I can’t find tiny.” She whispers, one of her hands rising to cling to the front of your shirt as her face scrunches up and another soft sob escapes her lips. Your heart breaks, your hand rising up the bare skin of her her back and coaxing her back to your chest. She seems to allow herself to cry freely now, her body trembling as she clutches fiercely to the back of your shirt.

Some may think this was an overreaction to losing a measly stuffed animal, and maybe they were right. But this wasn’t just any stuffed animal. It was her comfort. Her safe place. And whilst that may seem childish to some, for Natasha, someone who had denied herself the most simplest of comforts because she was under the impression she didn’t deserve them; someone who didn’t have any ounce of a childhood, tiny was her everything and you thanked god she trusted you enough to let down her walls and allow you to comfort her.

“Is he in your bag?” You question as you begin the motion of gently rocking her back and forth in your arms.

Natasha shakes her head. “N-no. I looked there.” She manages to choke out, and you nod in understanding as you look around the room to see if there were any spaces tiny could have hidden himself in. When you come up empty, you attempt to wrack your mind for any more ideas.

“You looked under the bed?”

Natasha nods again as she sits herself up in your arms, hands rising to roughly wipe away the tears. You shake your head slightly as you gently knock her hands away, replacing them with your own and tenderly wiping off her cheeks.

You’re about to suggest looking elsewhere in the house for the beloved bunny until a familiar fluffy hand appears in your peripheral vision. You gently pat Natasha’s back to get her attention, waiting for her teary eyes to meet your own before pointing to the corner the room where a pile of clean laundry sat in its basket.

“Did you by chance change our bedding today?” You ask, rising to your feet before easing her down onto her own. Natasha doesn’t acknowledge your question as she all but sprints to the corner of the room, knocking that large pile of laundry to the floor in her haste to grab tiny from here he was hidden at the bottom of it before clutching him to her chest.

She lets out a quiet breath of relief, and you realise, as you make your way over to her and tug her into a hug, that she must have tossed him out of the way whilst changing your sheets this morning and had forgotten to put him back. Natasha’s arms rise to settle around your neck, tiny clutched in her hand, and you immediately bend to lift her up into your arms. Her legs loop tightly around your waist, and you place a single arm beneath her behind whilst your hand rises to rest against her back.

“He was hiding from you.” You laugh slightly, and you feel the way Natasha smiles against the skin of your neck as she moves tiny to settle against her chest.

As you stand there, holding your favourite girl in your arms, you thank your lucky stars that you’d found him before disaster totally struck.

**

@goldenempyrean - finally got something written 😭 @alotofpockets @natashasnoodle @widowsistersandfriends @widowbitessting

[jarofstyles]

HARRYS WIFE WALKS IN.

YES!!!!!

Ok I wrote this and then didn’t post it for some reason but this is pure filth and I obviously don’t condone cheating but…. h is obsessed with y/n, what can I say 🤷‍♀️

Check out our Patreon for early access and 190+ exclusive writings

Warnings- infidelity (harry WITH reader), unprotected sex, kinda angsty, he’s a dick for doing that but he wants what he wants, filthy filth as usual

——

Harry was slowly pumping into her from behind, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he thrust his hips back and forth. He didn't notice when his wife walked into the room, her eyes widening in shock at the scene before her. She stood frozen in the doorway, her mouth parted open as she took in the sight of her husband fucking a woman she had only met in passing in their bed. Y/N's face was pressed against the pillow, her hair messy and her body shaking with each thrust. His fingers tightly gripped on her, making it clear he had no plans on letting her go anywhere- not that it looked like she would ever want to. The sounds that left her mouth were ones she had never made in her life, especially not by Harry’s hand.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a small bedside lamp. She lay on her stomach, her body spread out on the bed as Harry thrust himself into her from behind. She moaned softly with each movement, her hands gripping the sheets tightly.

The room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and the wet noises of their bodies slapping together. Harry's face was scrunched up in concentration, his brow furrowed as he slowly pushed himself in and out of Y/N’s welcoming cunt as his wife watched, her face a mask of shock and betrayal.

Y/N's ass jiggled with each thrust, her body shaking as Harry fucked into her. She reached back with one hand, grabbing onto the headboard for support as she tried to stay steady. Her other hand was buried under the pillow, muffling her moans as she tried to keep quiet.

"Fuck, baby, you're so tight," Harry whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "So perfect." He reached around with one hand, rubbing her clit in slow circles as he continued to fuck her from behind. Nothing and no one had ever felt this good. Once he’d given into the temptation, he wasn’t able to look back. She had stolen him without even trying. "Look at that ass, bouncing on my cock like it was made for me. Think you were, Angel."

He leaned down, pressing his lips against the curve of his lover’s neck as he whispered vulgar praises. His hips smacked against her ass, the sound echoing through the room as he fucked into her harder, his fingers still working her sensitive little pearl, making her drip all over his cock- the sheets. Making a whole mess of the both of them.

It was a shift of the light that had him looking to the side, finally noticing his wife standing in the doorway, frozen as her eyes took in the scene- but he didn’t stop. No, his fingers continued to rub into his lover’s swollen clit, panting against her neck.

Harry's eyes locked onto his wife's, his face unreadable as he continued to thrust into the soft, pliant body underneath him, his fingers circling her clit, not once neglecting her pleasure. The room fell silent except for the wet sounds of their bodies coming together and Y/N's muffled moans into the pillow.

His cock was bare, slick with Y/N's wetness as he continued to fuck her from behind. He didn't seem to be affected by his wife's presence, instead focusing on the pleasure he was giving and receiving from Y/N. Call him sick, call him twisted, but finally getting the intimacy and sex he had been desperate for years was enough tale him lose his mind a bit.

The room was dimly lit but the small amount of light that filtered in was enough for his wife to take in the scene. Harry plowed into Y/N, unprotected and wet with where he had been buried deep inside her. It meant this wasn’t new, this wasn’t impulsive- this was habit. He wouldn’t fuck anyone without a condom unless they meant something.

Harry continued to fuck Y/N deep, his hips slapping against her thighs, the wet sounds from their bodies filling the room. He didn't seem to care that this was their marital bed, the same bed where he used to make love to his wife. He didn’t seem to care about anything, actually, other than the girl under him. Didn’t care about the fact that his marriage was over and she was watching the most intimate act of betrayal.

Y/N whimpered, turning her head to the side with her eyes closed. “Kiss, please.” She pleaded.

At the plea, Harry leaned down, his mouth crushing against hers in a slow, desperate kiss. His lips moved against hers as he continued to fuck her, his tongue pushing past her lips to tangle with hers. He kissed her like he was starving for her, like he needed her to breathe.

It wasn't just a one time thing, this was a full blown affair. Harry had been cheating for months, hiding his infidelity behind closed doors and lies. He had been seeing his lover regularly, making excuses to his wife about where he was going and who he was with. He was a bad person for it, and he didn’t give a fuck. This was what he wanted. This was what he was going to want for the rest of his life. Having her catch him was the quickest course of action that could have been taken.

As the months went by, Harry found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with Y/N. He loved the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she looked at him like he was the only person in the world. He loved everything about her and it terrified him. Being given the love he had always wanted and felt he deserved after being neglected intimately for years, he had little sadness about the marriage ending and more excitement over this new relationship. The bitterness had faded away into a true uncaring state- now that he had Y/N, he didn’t care about much else.

So when she let out a gasp, Harry didn't stop. There was no semblance of hesitation in it either, almost annoyance that he had been interrupted and had his attention momentarily drawn from the girl writhing underneath him. He only buried himself deeper inside of her, his hips grinding against her clit as he whispered soft words to her, his voice dripping with affection and love. "I love you, baby." he breathed against her ear. "Only you." A knife to the gut for his wife, probably, but he wanted the blow to be fatal. Let her hear the truth and know it was over.

Y/N had him now.

“Love you.” She slurred into the pillow, arching her back to keep him in deeper.

"Love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone." Harry replied, his voice thick with emotion. His hand snaked around her waist, the other braced against the headboard as he pushed himself further into her.

His wife watched from the doorway as Harry groaned, thrusts getting harder. "M’gonna cum inside of you." His voice filled with desire for Y/N- and her alone. He didn't care about his wife at that moment, all he cared about was the woman beneath him and the intense pleasure he was feeling. “Gonna fill you up.”

As Harry's climax built, he closed his eyes and let out a groan, the feeling of warmth spreading through him. Y/N whimpered beneath him, her body slick with sweat as she felt him empty himself inside of her, bare cock pulsing as his balls emptied inside her honeyed cunt. Painting the walls white, fucking it in a few times for extra measure. As the last waves of his passion subsided, Harry's eyes fluttered open and locked onto his wife's. He watched as her face crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks as she took in the sight of him buried inside of Y/N, his arms wrapped possessively around her waist.

“Sorry you had to find out like this.” He murmured, pressing a few kisses to Y/N’s cheek as he looked at his wife. “But we’re getting a divorce.”

[kairawrites]

sweet escape.

🌺 masterlist 🌺

pairing: lewis hamilton x his wife

requested: A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.

summary: It's your turn to host the sleepover, and the house is crawling with kids. All Lewis wants is to enjoy his favorite snack in peace, but someone else has beaten him to it.

words: 1.7k

It was your turn to host the sleepover, and Ariel and Mason, along with their friends, had been buzzing with excitement all week. Their friends always claimed that you hosted the best sleepovers, and tonight was no exception. The living room had been transformed into a comfort kingdom, a cozy haven that would make any child’s sleepover dreams come true.

The sofa was covered in blankets and pillows, perfectly prepared for you and Lewis to cuddle up later. Roscoe was already settled in, burrowed into one of the blankets. Air mattresses, each adorned with fluffy blankets and an array of pillows, covered the remainder of the living room floor. Pressed together and ready for the kids, they formed cozy nests. String lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, twinkling glow over the room, and each air mattress had a customized snack basket placed at the foot, filled with treats specially chosen for each child.

In the kitchen, boxes of freshly delivered pizza sat waiting on the island, their aroma mingling with the sweet scent of the homemade treats you had prepared. After picking up the kids and their friends from their respective homes, Lewis had returned to find this magical setup already prepared and waiting for the night’s festivities. The sight of it had brought a smile to his face—this was exactly what a sleepover should be.

Once Ariel and Mason, along with their friends, were fed and changed into their pajamas, you managed to get them to agree on a movie. They were going to watch Monsters, Inc., a classic that never failed to entertain. The kids settled into their cozy nests of blankets and pillows, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the string lights as you switched off the overhead light. Lewis watched in awe as you effortlessly managed all eight of them, your voice calm and soothing as you adjusted the volume and made sure everyone was comfortable.

You were wearing pajamas that matched Ariel’s and her friends’—a cute set in soft pink with Hello Kitty prints scattered across the fabric. Lewis, on the other hand, was dressed in black pajamas adorned with Spider-Man prints, matching those of Mason and his friends. His pajama top was emblazoned with the superhero’s web design, while the pants were red with a Miles Morales pattern.

As the kids finally settled into their makeshift beds, Lewis watched you walk over, a smile playing on his lips as you let out a breath, clearly relieved that the evening was under control. He reached out, his fingers lightly touching the hem of your shorts. “Cute pajamas,” he noted.

You giggled as you glanced up at him. “Thanks, but you’re one to talk.” You gestured to his Spider-Man pajamas, and he grinned.

“Hey, don’t be mad I got the better pair,” Lewis said with a chuckle, leaning down to steal a quick kiss.

“I have something for you,” you said, reaching around him. Lewis’s eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement as you produced a personalized snack basket just for him. “The kids wanted to try the peanut butter bites, so I had to give you only two,” you said with a playful grin.

Lewis’s grin widened as he took the basket from you. His hand instantly moved to retrieve a peanut butter bite. A soft moan of appreciation was muffled as he bit into the sweet treat. He’d been looking forward to this moment all day, from the moment he found you pulling out the ingredients in the morning.

“You always spoil me,” he said, giving you a quick kiss before moving to join Roscoe on the sofa, ready to enjoy the treats.

Lewis was sprawled comfortably on the sofa, Roscoe resting contentedly against his chest as he scratched behind the dog’s ears. The kids were thoroughly engrossed, laughing at the antics of Sulley and Mike.

However, something felt off. The absence of your laughter was unusual. You were always the one who laughed the loudest at this film. Lewis lifted his head from the armrest behind him and scanned the room, searching for you.

Seeing that you were nowhere in sight, he figured you might have slipped upstairs for a bit of peace and quiet. With a small smile, he reached into his personalized snack basket, hoping to grab another peanut butter bite. To his dismay, he found that there were none left.

He set the basket aside and rose from the sofa, leaving Roscoe to stretch out in his spot. Lewis headed to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and checked every shelf and corner for any remaining peanut butter bites. His search proved fruitless, leaving him mildly frustrated. He sighed, shutting the fridge.

A thought crossed his mind—maybe, just maybe, there was one last stash hidden away in the pantry. You had the habit of storing treats in the pantry when you wanted to keep them away from the kids.

Lewis opened the pantry door, only to stop in his tracks. There you were, standing in the small pantry, looking a little too guilty for someone just grabbing a snack. Your hand was tucked behind your back, your eyes wide with surprise as you met his gaze.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding?”

“Just…getting a snack,” you replied.

Lewis’s gaze passed over your face, his eyes lingering for just a moment. He had known you long enough to recognize the subtle signs when you were hiding something. The way your eyes shifted slightly to the side and the faintest of smiles that didn’t quite reach your eyes were all dead giveaways.

He could tell you were trying to play it cool, but he could see through it. “What are you hiding back there?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice. His expression was one of playful suspicion, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but you took a step back as he advanced.

Lewis leaned in, the familiar scent of chocolate and peanut butter widening his smile. “Is that the last of the peanut butter bites?”

Before he could say another word, you quickly stepped forward, covering his mouth with your hand. “Shh!” you hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the kitchen as if expecting the kids to burst in at any moment.

Lewis chuckled, his laughter muffled against your hand. You guided him by the front of his shirt, pulling him inside the pantry as he reached back to shut the door behind him. The small space felt even smaller with the two of you squeezed inside.

You tried to maintain your composure, but with him this close you failed.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, you looked up at him. “Alright, fine,” you admitted, unable to keep up the pretense any longer. “I took the last of the peanut butter bites.”

Lewis’s eyes lit up with a mix of triumph and amusement. “So, you were hiding them?” he asked, his voice full of mock surprise. “I thought you made these for me.”

Your eyes rolled, yet you allowed him to take a bite out of the bar in your hand. “What if I want them for myself?”

Lewis paused, a mock-serious expression on his face. “Then you shouldn’t have made them so good.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you watched him take a second bite. “Guess that’s on me, huh?”

“Yeah, means you gotta share.” Lewis leaned in, his smile widening as he kissed you softly.

You broke the remainder of the bar in half. You held out one piece to Lewis.

“You know,” he said with a chuckle, “I didn’t kiss you just to get that bar.”

You giggled, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

With a mischievous grin, Lewis leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he placed a second, more lingering kiss on your lips. The sweet taste of peanut butter lingered between you. You could feel the warmth of his hand against the back of your neck.

As he pulled back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours with a playful glint. “Maybe that's all I'm after,” he mumbled, lips brushing against yours again.

Despite the warmth of your husband's lips against yours, you can't help but giggle. “Why are we hiding snacks in our own home?”

The sound of your laughter pulled a smile to your husband’s lips.

“Have you seen the way those kids look at me the second they realize I have food?” His brows raised, Lewis popped the last of his bar into his mouth. “They’ve got their mother’s eyes—big, innocent, and impossible to say no to.”

The two of you stayed there for a few more minutes, savoring a few moments of quiet. Eventually, the sound of muffled laughter pulled your gaze to your husband’s.

“Thanks for sharing,” he smiled softly, gently cupping your face, leaning in for a kiss.

You found yourself pressed against the pantry door, your breath catching as his lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate intensity. His touch slipping beneath your pajama top.

When he finally pulled back, you were both slightly dazed, your heart racing in your chest. Lewis rested his forehead against yours, his voice a low murmur. “Whose idea was it to invite a bunch of kids to our house again?”

You giggled, remembering the enthusiasm in his voice when he suggested it. “Yours.”

He groaned, shaking his head as he kissed you again, a little less serious this time, more playful. “Remind me to never get any bright ideas.”

“Don’t let them stay up too late,” you warned with a smile. “Or you'll have to wait until tomorrow to get what you want.”

“They’re not the issue,” Lewis teased, his voice soft as his fingers traced your jawline. “Keeping you quiet is.”

You gently rolled your eyes at his teasing, but your heart fluttered as his gaze drifted back to your lips.

“Get rid of the evidence,” you whispered, your smile widening as you reached behind you to open the pantry door.

But before you step out, you stood on your toes and kissed him quickly, a soft, sweet peck that was over almost as soon as it began. Lewis watched you go with a lingering smile.

[irndad]

hi im back! okey so def can see spencer still wanting to hug and snuggle with you even when fighting or mad at each other. he even gets genuinely ??? confused ??? when you try to sleep on the couch instead of in bed at night. he holds you and either reader or him is like "i know we are snuggling right now but i am still super pissed off at you." lol i can just see it. he may be petty when mad but he wont stop trying to touch you bc its a biological need of his and no argument is more important than needing you 🥺

enjoy this I did it very fast!!!! ily

He knows he’s not easy to be with sometimes. She would never say it, but it’s true. He doesn’t always get the jokes, sometimes pushes things too far and without even knowing it the ground gets pulled out from under him. 

And sleep- Sleep is so complicated. The memory of the first time she slept in his bed is etched into a place he could never erase. Spencer had always had trouble sleeping, either fear or alertness plaguing him into the late hours of the night. He used to lie awake, the kind of exhausted that feels like it’s seeping out of your bones, while constantly facts he’d unwittingly memorized about how sleep deprivation can cause brain damage. 

But then she’d come into his life. All soft words and gentle disposition, and there really is something magic about the way that everything just dissipates when her warm, soft body curves into his own. He’s slept well almost every night since. 

Except today, she isn’t coming to bed. 

It’s his fault, and he knows it. He wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t seen him for two weeks (and he hadn’t slept nearly enough without the weight of her form beside him since the last time he saw her) and she’d said that she wanted to be prioritized more. 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks, Spence!”

His head was killing him. Was it actually possible, for a headache to kill you? Her voice is audibly upset, and it’s alarming how he could be the cause of it. 

“Please,” he had said through labored effort, “Can we talk about this later?” 

“When would you like to talk about it? Because I don’t ever know if you’re leaving-“

“Do you even know what it is that I do?  That it’s not a choice for me to go? I have to do this. I can’t pick and choose and honestly, I don’t want to. If you don’t get that, we’re not doing what I thought we were doing.”

It sounds foreign, his own voice. And it’s after he’s said it that the sick taste reaches his throat because oh, that means the end. Her lovely face is unreadable for a brief moment, before something like grief splays over her expression.

It’s silent for a beat, and Spencer wishes he could swallow the words back up, rewind his life like a battered VHS tape where he’s not so stupid to mess up the one thing that’s ever brought him peace.

“You’re not yourself, Spencer. I’m gonna give you a minute.”

A minute, it turns out, is hours in the living room. She hadn’t left, thank fucking god, but she hadn’t come back. Of course she hadn’t. She wasn’t the one who needed to apologize. 

He’s just so tired. 

He thinks of her so-sweet voice, the curve of cheek- the junction of her neck and shoulder, and how much he would like to have her pressed against him. He pads out into the living room like a nervous puppy, and sees her sleeping on the olive green couch she had picked out. Her hair was splayed across the arm of the sofa, and her head laid on a throw pillow, their fuzziest blanket draped across her form. 

His first thought is how low he’s dropped, that he’s jealous of a blanket. 

His second his that she is not coming to bed. He sits beside her gingerly, and the scent of her body wash lingers in the air. 

“Are you planning on coming to bed?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” He can tell she wants to sound cold, but the truth is much worse; she sounds guarded. 

“I always want you to.” It’s the most honest thing he’s said today, and it’s just not fair, how much he revolves around her. How he has waited 14 days, 13 hours and 34 minutes to hold her again and managed to ruin it within the first 20 minutes of having seen her again. He grabs her hand, soft and pliant against his in a way that almost makes his heart leap. “Please? Come to bed?”

Her gaze softens, the warmth and light that guides him back in her eyes, and he hopes his relief isn’t too visible. It’s then that she drinks him in. It feels too revealing like she can see right through him. His clothes are old. He’d rushed off the jet to see her, and the half moon circles under his eyes only lend to the unimpressive picture of himself. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, touching the side of his face. He instantly leans into it, the contact more than he’d be willing to give up to save his dignity. “Come here.”

She wraps her arms around him, and he pulls her into his lap, squeezing her tight to his chest, like she might disappear. 

“I’m still mad at you,” she says, looking at him with such affection it betrays her words.

“That’s okay,” he says into her collarbone, “As long as I still have you.”

[reiding-writing]

Incessant Insomnia [ s.r ]

summary:

The BAU had just finished a case across the country in California, and were now finally on the jet to fly back home, needless to say, everyone was absolutely exhausted and very ready to get some shut eye during the 5 hour flight. Trouble was, Spencer couldn’t sleep, even though he had managed to bag the jet’s sofa, which was arguably the comfiest place on the plane.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers?

warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of child death, mentions of touch-starvedness, no use of y/n

wc: 2.4k

masterlist!!

a/n: this is my first upload so please bare with me i’m still learning 😭

As you board the jet alongside your team, you can't help but notice the exhaustion etched on Spencer Reid's face. It had been a grueling week, with a disturbingly gruesome case across the country that took all semblance of mental energy out of the team to solve. Spencer, ever known for his genius-level intellect and unwavering dedication, didn’t take a single moment to rest throughout it.

And even as he scored the jet’s long sofa for the flight, arguably the most comfortable place on the plane, that moment of rest still didn’t arrive, and Spencer had long given up trying to fall asleep by the time the jet had stablised at 40,000 feet.

He’d tried everything, a Tchaikovsky Sonata playing through his cheap headphones, a travel pillow around his neck, his shoes discarded on the floor so he could curl up his legs under him, he’d even counted the amount of dimmed lightbulbs in the light strips and the number of creases in the leather bound chairs. Nothing. And he was becoming increasingly jealous of the rest of the team resting soundly in their seats.

He’d battled with insomnia for most of his life, a curse of his intelligence as he liked to call it, his mind constantly running so fast it never gave him any time to relax. But this was a little different. Spencer hated working cases involving children, for what ever reason they seemed to press all of the wrong buttons in his mind, and in this instance, the child they’d been called out to save had died before the team had even arrived in California to help.

Spencer couldn’t seem to get the image of anguish from the child’s mother from his mind, replaying like a faulty cassette player with no pause button as he rolled onto his back and let his eyes fall back open. There was no way he was going to get any sleep on this flight.

He instead took to an ever-living comfort of his, reading, in the hope that his inner monologue would drown out the guttural sobs ringing through his ears from the grieving mother when the team had uncovered her child’s body, buried underneath her own house.

He pushed himself to sit upright, his legs stretched out in front of him to the point where his feet were hanging freely, and he rifled through the go-bag left tucked under the sofa beneath him for his hand-bound anthology of his favourite poets, a book you’d gifted him for his birthday a few months prior. A book he’d read a dozen times since then.

His fingers traced over the familiar cover. He could almost feel the indentations of the embossing on the hardcover, a tactile memory that was as comforting as the words within. The pages were already dog-eared from countless readings, corners turned down to mark passages that had resonated with him, pen marks and streaks of neon yellow over phrases that had touched his soul in ways that only the poetic articulation of human emotion could.

It had become more than just a collection of poems to him; it was a sanctuary, a haven he could escape to when the horrors of his job became too much. He cherished each line, each word, each letter, as they provided a counterpoint to the harsh realities he faced daily. Except, this time it didn’t seem to work.

His mind was still overrun with images of the recent case, each line of verse morphing into a haunting reminder of the child’s life cut short. The words that usually brought him solace now echoed with a sorrowful undertone, amplifying his guilt and making his insomnia all the more pronounced.

The jet’s engines hummed steadily in the background, a usual comforting sound, now merely adding to the cacophony of his thoughts. His eyes, red-rimmed and weary, scanned over the pages, but the words blurred, morphing into a tale of despair that was not originally intended by the poets.

He tried to divert his mind, to block out the pictures of the crime scene, the teary eyes of the distraught mother, the lifeless body of the child, but it was all in vain. Their faces, their voices, their cries, they clung to him, refusing to let go.

His fingers tightened around the book, knuckles whitening with the strain. He could almost hear the deafening silence that followed after they’d found the body, the grim realisation that they were too late, that a life was lost before they could even try to save it.

Spencer felt a lump rise in his throat, the weight of the guilt and sorrow threatening to suffocate him. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the emotions that threatened to break him. He was a profiler, a genius, he was supposed to save lives, not let them slip through his fingers.

He closed the book, the once soothing words now a stark reminder of his failure. He leaned back against the plush leather of the seat, his legs stretched out in front of him, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. The soft hum of the jet's engines was the only sound that filled the silence, a silence that was deafening in its own right.

Sleep was a distant dream, an elusive solace that he knew wouldn’t come. The guilt, the sorrow, the failure, they were his companions for the night, refusing to leave.

“Spencer…”

Your voice cut through the chaos ravaging his mind, and he flickered his eyes to his left, where you were comfortably curled up under a fleece blanket, head nestled in the small gap between the padded chair you were sat on and the jet’s wall, eyes resting closed.

“Why are you moving around so much..?”

Your question was cut short by a yawn, voice laced with an obvious exhaustion. His restlessness must have woken you up.

"I can't sleep," he confessed, rubbing his temples. "The case... it's still playing in my mind." His voice was barely a whisper, the silence of the jet amplifying its weight.

Your eyes fluttered open at his confession, a mix of concern and understanding washing over your face. You knew how deeply these cases affected him, how they seemed to burrow into his mind, refusing to let go.

"Spencer," you murmured, your voice barely louder than his own. "You did everything you could. You always do."

He glanced at you, his weary eyes meeting your earnest ones, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t have the words to explain the turmoil churning inside him. “We didn’t- none of it mattered…”

You sighed, removing yourself from the comfortability of your previous position, letting yourself sit with your legs in front of you and your feet on the floor. “Spencer of course it mattered,”

Spencer pushed himself upright as you did, subconciously mirroring your actions as you wake further from your half-asleep daze.

“He still died-”

“He was dead before we even landed Spencer, there’s nothing you could’ve done to change that,”

You cut off the inevitable start of a ramble from Spencer, raising your voice a little to take over the conversation whilst still making sure not to wake your sleeping teammates scattered around the jet.

“I know… I’m sorry i’m just-”

Spencer sighs, dragging his hands over his face and through the unruly mess of his hair, flattened and tangled from his incessant restlessness. “I’m fine… Sorry for waking you,” He let himself fall backwards to lie down again, turning onto his right side so that his back was facing you, as if not being able to see you would put an end to the conversation.

You didn’t say anything else, and Spencer resigned himself to listening to the mind-numbing drone of the jet’s engine as he heard you shift around, presumably getting back into a comfortable position to fall asleep again.

Except you weren’t quite done with him yet, and your weight on the edge of the sofa shifted his position as you sat down, your hand ghosting over his shoulder, not quite sure if you should actually touch him or not.

You knew Spencer had an aversion to physical touch, he always had, as long as you’d known him anyway. He’d rattled on about the number of bacterial colonies on human skin and how their transference could lead to illnesses you wouldn’t even try to name, swerving handshakes for awkward waves and keeping a pocket-sized bottle of hand sanitiser on his person at all times. He’d insist on keeping his distance, even from the people he was closest to, claiming that ‘you never knew what illnesses someone could be carrying’.

But you also knew that he needed comforting, and that words seemingly weren’t enough.

You gently placed your hand on Spencer's shoulder, your fingers just barely grazing over the sleeve of his shirt, offering a silent comfort that words couldn't provide. He tensed for a moment, his body still on high alert from the intensity of the never-ending rampage of his thoughts, but then slowly relaxed into your touch. The weight of his exhaustion seemingly lifting off his shoulders as he allowed himself to lean into your presence.

The soft warmth of your touch seeped into his skin, soothing the deep-rooted ache within him. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes, conveying a depth of understanding and empathy that words could never fully capture. In that moment, you became his anchor, providing a much-needed respite in the midst of his turmoil.

As Spencer leaned into your touch, his eyes closed, shutting out the harsh realities that had plagued his mind. He found solace in the simplicity of your presence, the tangible reminder that he wasn't alone in his pain. The weight of the guilt and sorrow that had threatened to suffocate him slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of comfort and support.

You sat there in silence, your hand still resting gently on his shoulder, offering a steady presence that allowed him to find a temporary refuge from his racing thoughts. You didn't need to offer empty reassurances or try to fix what couldn't be fixed. Instead, your mere presence and the touch of your hand conveyed a profound message: "I am here for you."

Time seemed to stand still as you sat there, connected by that simple touch. It was a fragile moment. Fragile, but powerful.

You slowly added a gentle pressure with your fingers, rubbing your thumb over the curve of his shoulder as his behaviour showed that the contact wasn’t crossing any boundaries, as Spencer felt the tension in his shoulders ease and his racing thoughts begin to quiet, a sense of calm washed over him.

The weight of the case and its tragic outcome still lingered heavily on Spencer's mind, but your presence provided a much-needed respite.

“I’m so tired…”

You slowly escalate your touch, running your hand slowly over his shoulder and up the side of his neck, careful to watch for any signs of discomfort from him.

“I know Spence…”

The soft nickname rolling off your tongue only fuelled to add an extra blanket of comfort over him in the moment, although joined by an uncertain ache that spread through his chest until it felt almost suffocating. Your touch comforted him more than he could ever thank you for, but it also upset him beyond belief.

Spencer couldn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes, nor could he stop the slight tremble of his shoulders as they threatened to spill down his cheeks, and the shaking of his breath only proved to expose him further as you slowed the gentle caresses of your fingers to a halt.

As you felt the weight of his emotions, you gently pulled him into a comforting embrace, allowing him to release the tears he had been holding back as he buried his face into your lap. You held him tightly, offering a safe space for him to let go of the pain and sorrow that had consumed him.

“I’m sorry-”

Spencer choked out an apology through his tears, as though his emotions were burdening you. His tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn't mind. You were just grateful that he felt comfortable enough to let his emotions out, to release the pent-up pain that had been haunting him.

“Don’t apologise Spencer, it’s alright…”

You whispered soft words of comfort and reassurance as your hand moved to slowly run through his hair, reminding Spencer that he was a brilliant and compassionate person who had done everything in his power to help. You reminded him that he couldn't shoulder the weight of the world's tragedies alone, that he needed to take care of himself too.

Slowly, Spencer's sobs subsided, replaced by deep breaths as he regained control of his emotions. He pulled away slightly, his eyes red and puffy, but there was a glimmer of gratitude in them.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with both exhaustion and appreciation. "I don't know what I would do without you."

You gently guide his head back down into your lap, allowing him to use your thighs as a makeshift pillow so he could finally get some rest from his own mind. “It’s alright Spencer, just relax for me alright?”

As Spencer finally succumbed to the exhaustion weighing him down, his breathing gradually slowed and his tense muscles relaxed. You continued to stroke his hair gently, your touch offering a sense of comfort and security that Spencer desperately needed.

The weight of the case and its devastating outcome had taken a toll on him, both physically and emotionally. He had carried the burden of the child's death on his shoulders, blaming himself for not being able to save a life that was already lost.

But in your embrace, he felt a glimmer of hope.

With each gentle stroke of your hand, Spencer felt a wave of warmth wash over him. It was as if your touch carried with it a healing energy, easing the pain and sorrow that had consumed him. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to fully surrender to the comfort and safety of your embrace.

In the silence of the jet, Spencer's exhaustion finally overcame him. His body relaxed completely, finding respite from the relentless strain it had endured as it fell into a peaceful slumber. You continued to hold him, providing a sense of security and warmth that he hadn't felt in a long time, and you slowly fell into your own exhaustion, your fingers slowing their movements through his hair to a halt as you drifted into your own state of sleep.

[stylesloveclub]

sunshine (epilogue)

In which Harry's still grumpy, except for when he's with his sunshine girl.

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“How was it?” Maddie asks y/n, sitting in the driver’s seat of her beat up red Toyota Corolla. The engine is running as y/n climbs into the passengers side, carelessly throwing her backpack in the backseat and buckling herself up. 

“I don’t want to think about integrals ever again,” y/n responds. She’s just gotten out of her calc midterm, and she feels horrible and miserable and exhausted. Although she’d promised herself to go to sleep early last night so that she’d be alert and prepared for her exam… she actually hadn’t fallen asleep until 4 AM. She’d been twisting and turning in her bed, flipping her pillows and trying to lull herself to sleep all night, unsuccessfully. 

Thankfully the class wasn’t until noon, so she was still able to get at least five-ish hours of sleep. But she still woke up feeling like shit. Her heart had been pounding nervously all morning, and she hadn’t been able to get any food down except for three sips of some coffee she made for herself in the morning. She didn’t put any makeup on as she left for campus, only a pair of sweats and a burgundy sweatshirt… Harry’s burgundy sweatshirt. The one he’d given to her in the car when he’d driven her home. 

Now, she has a reason for wearing it! You see… it still smelled like him. And y/n somehow convinced herself that by wearing Harry’s sweatshirt (the sweatshirt that smelled like him!) she might be able to…  absorb some of his math skills? And do better on her midterm? 

She’s pulling at straws here. She still feels like she failed it. 

“Listen…” Maddie says, pulling out of the parking lot. “I need to go over to Blake’s, I left my makeup bag in his bathroom and then we’re gonna go out for lunch.”

“Okay,” y/n mumbles, not caring. She closes her eyes to try and soothe the pounding in her head. She’s gonna nap as soon as she gets into her bed. 

“Do you want me to drop you off at home first? Or… did you want to come and see Harry?” 

Y/n’s eyes flutter open. Harry. 

Maddie looks over at y/n knowingly. Y/n turns bashful. “Yeah, I’ll come and see Harry.”

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Harry looks like he’s just woken up when he opens his bedroom door for y/n.

His eyes are puffy and his curls are flat and messy. A smile immediately spreads on his face when he sees it’s y/n.

“Hey.” His voice is deep and raspy, and it’s probably the first word he’s said all day. 

“Hi,” she says, twisting her hands in the sleeves of her sweatshirt. No– his sweatshirt. 

Oh. Oops.

Harry smiles down at the burgundy sweatshirt that’s swallowed y/n’s body. 

“I– I wore it so that I could return it,” she stammers. A lie! Harry sees right through it, and finds his smirk growing even wider. 

“I like it on you,” he grins. She grows shy under his gaze, heart bubbling with that familiar feeling. The feeling of a crush. “How was the midterm?” he asks, closing the door behind himself and y/n.

He lays back down in his bed, the way he’d previously been before y/n came knocking on his door, and y/n sits down next to him. “I dunno,” she shrugs. Her eyes are downcast and dull, lacking the happy sparkle he usually searches for whenever he’s in her presence.

“I’m sure you did okay,” he says, resting a reassuring hand on her knee. “At least it’s over now!”

She nods. A certain weight had been lifted from her chest as she walked out of that lecture hall. No more studying integrals and derivatives for hours straight…

“There was this one problem,” y/n can’t help but say. “It was like… ln(x) to the power of two…”

“Do you want to write it out?” Harry asks. He knows that y/n probably won’t be able to let this midterm go until she gets all of her questions out of the way. 

With a pen and paper in hand, she messily writes the problem out, the paper tearing a little bit when she presses down too hard. “It was ln(x)^2… and i split it into ln(x)*ln(x). That’s allowed right?”

Harry nods, “Mhm. That’s what I would’ve done too. What next?”

“Um… I did a U-sub. I don’t know if that’s right though… I was running out of time and just did something so that I could get at least partial credit.” 

“A u-sub is right,” he grins.

“Really?” She blinks with wide eyes as he nods. “So… wait– tell me if I did the rest of it right.” She messily writes down what she remembers putting down on the test, then gives the paper to Harry. 

“S’good,” his dimple pops out as he smiles up at her, “It’s all right. And you didn’t forget the +C, good job!” 

“No way!” she exclaims, disbelievingly. Her hands land on Harry’s chest as she giggles triumphantly, “No freaking way I did it right! I thought I was just making math up! Oh my gosh!”

“Told you,” he laughs along with her, holding the hand that she rested on his chest. “Stop stressing out, sunshine. You studied, and now you’re done!”

There’s that name again, the one that makes her entire body tingle with happy chills. >sunshine. The sparkle in her eye is back, and Harry feels pride for being the reason she laughed. The entire world feels brighter now that she’s happy again. 

Y/n’s giggles die down slowly, and she looks down at Harry, eyes flickering between his. Her stare is intent as she chews on her lip, the remnants of her cheery smile still present in the apples of her cheeks.

Something thuds on the floor behind Harry. They both peer over the side of the bed to see what fell from his bedside table. It’s just a book… but when y/n looks closer…

“Wuthering Heights?” 

His cheeks turn pink. “Yeah…” he coughs dryly. “I um… I remember you reading it. Thought it might be nice if I picked it up, and that… we might be able to talk about it or something.” 

Her heart swells in her chest. “You’re reading Wuthering Heights?” 

“Well– trying to,” he chuckles at himself lamely. “I’m like 10 pages in.”

She wants to kiss him. She really really does. Like… he’s perfect and beautiful and kind and sweet and amazing. But… god would it be weird? After last time?

Harry pushes himself up on his elbows. He can feel the tension too. But when he inches closer to her, her eyes flicker with doubt and she looks away. 

“No,” he pleads, cupping her jaw. “Please… please don’t let it be different.” She meets his gaze again. 

“I like you,” he swallows thickly, “and I want… something with you. Whatever you want.” 

He inches upward, and this time she doesn’t pull away. Her heart races in her chest and she lets the magnetic force between them take over. 

“We’ll take it slow, at your pace…” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut. “No rush. Just trust me, please.”

She nods. She trusts him.

Their lips connect, a spark flying through y/n’s body the second she makes contact with him. It’s wonderful, better than last time, even, and she realizes the reason kissing Harry is so great is because it’s >Harry. Because she can feel how much he cares for her when he kisses her. He speaks poems with his lips when he kisses her and writes sonnets on her skin every time he touches her. He tastes like minty toothpaste, freshly washed, and his lips are so soft and sweet and gentle. 

He pulls away from her lips with a soft click, then stares up at her with hearts floating in his eyes. 

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Y/n is out of breath, huffing and puffing in front of Harry’s door and knocking like a madwoman. She ran here from her own apartment, too excited to wait and ask Maddie for a ride. She needed to see him >immediately. 

Harry opens the door with concerned eyes and furrowed eyebrows, a little bit scared. He still has his headphones on with his controller in his hands, staring down at y/n as though he just had a heart attack, “What? What is it?” 

A huge grin is plastered on her face. “Harry!” she beams. “I passed!”

“What?” he’s still confused. What did she pass? Why is she at his door?

“I got a 77% on the midterm!” she squeals, jumping up and down in her place. 

His eyes light up and a smile spreads across his face. “Yes!” he cheers. He pulls the headphones off of his ears and hangs them around his neck, just in time for when y/n wraps her arms around him. He’s taken aback, stumbling a few steps backwards from how hard she pummeled into him, but easily steadies himself and wraps his arms around her back. He hugs her so tight that her feet leave the ground, and she’s laughing in his ear sweetly.

“I can’t believe it!!!” she says, her hands on his shoulders as he puts her back down on the ground. Her eyes glimmer with the shine that he adores so much, and it makes him grin even harder. His dimple pops out, a rare sighting for anyone else except for y/n these days. 

He kisses her without a second thought.

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The scene is all too familiar. Harry, sitting at a party with his eyebrows furrowed grumpily. His friends are sitting around him, laughing and chattering, but Harry says nothing. He takes a bored sip from the jungle juice in his hand. Three girls have approached him tonight, batting their eyes up at him and biting their lips teasingly, but he’s brushed them off without so much of a glance. He’s not interested in the slightest.

He looks around himself, eyes searching for a certain someone, and he sighs to himself. She’s still not here. His pout grows more prominent, and he whips out his phone. He does not care for anyone at this party, and though his friends are fun and all… they’re having a weird conversation about Elon Musk that he doesn’t want to even listen to.

He huffs. He stares at the last text he received, 19 minutes ago.

sunshine: omw!! be there in 15 :)

She’s 4 minutes late, he pouts. It’s probably Maddie’s fault.

A firm poke is pressed to his forehead. “Hey grumpy.” His heart jumps as he recognizes the sweet sunshine angel voice speaking to him. 

“Sunshine,” he coos, the furrow his brow immediately melting into a soft smile. He holds a hand out for her, which she immediately takes. She has a soft smile on her face, her eyes kind and warm and gentle, the LED party lights haloing around her head and making her look like a fairy. “Missed you.”

He pulls her down into his lap, her butt comfortably sat on his thighs, and nuzzles his face into her neck, trying to get as close to her as possible. A content hum rumbles through his chest now that he’s surrounded by her scent, his pretty girlfriend in his lap, drowning out all the other people at the party. She giggles cutely when his curls tickle her chin, simultaneously trying to escape the kisses he’s pressing to her sensitive throat while also wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“Watcha drinking?” she asks. 

He offers her his drink, “dunno.” She grimaces as she takes a sip, and he imitates her grossed out face. “Yucky, isn’t it?”

She gets the drink as far away as possible from herself. “Gross.” 

He chuckles. She’s so beyond cute, her cheeks so soft and biteable as she scrunches her nose. One of his hands is on her back, holding her upright, while the other one rests on her thigh comfortably. His fingers on her back find the ends of her hair and start twisting them, playing with the soft strands and curling them around his fingers, while his fingers on her thigh trace up and down and up and down. Goosebumps rise along the path of his fingers, and it makes him smile. She’s so reactive to every single one of his touches… he wants to have his hands on her 24/7.

If she wasn’t so shy and sweet and innocent, he’d start kissing her pretty, glossed up lips right here and now, even with all of their friends sitting around them. He’s obsessed with her! Obsessed with kissing her all the time and teaching her all the secrets of intimacy. But he knows she’d probably get bashful and embarrassed with that much PDA (even getting her to sit in his lap took a bit of coaxing at the beginning), so he settles for pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re so cute,” he murmurs to her, resting his head on her shoulder. Is it too early for them to leave this party and to his room? He’d love to be snuggled up in bed with her… have her read to him a little bit while he plays with her hair… yeah that sounds nice.

“M’gonna go get a juice box from the fridge,” she whispers (his fridge is stocked with juice just for her). He whine when she pulls away, looking up at her with big pleading puppy dog eyes, begging her not to leave him when he’s just gotten her, but she pecks his cheek with a dismissive kiss. “Do you want one too?”

“No,” he pouts. “I’ll just have some of yours, if that’s okay?”

She squints her eyes at him, “you get two sips, and that’s it.” 

He shrugs with a teasing smile. “M’kay.” He resists the urge to pat her ass as she walks away (that’s for when they’re alone in his room).

He’s stuck in a lovey dovey lavender haze as he watches her get swept away by a group of her girlfriends, smiling to himself fondly as they all giggle and look towards Harry mischievously. He knows she’s probably getting grilled about how little miss sunshine finally got a boyfriend! 

A shove from Blake jostles him out of his daydream. “Who are you?” Blake snickers. All of his friends are staring at him too. Nobody has ever, ever seen grumpy Harry be so soft with anyone. Kissing her cheek and cuddling into her neck and whining like a love-struck puppy… it’s funny. 

Harry rolls his eyes and tells his friends to fuck off, trying to furrow his brows and look all serious again. But his heart flutters happily in his chest, and those pretty dimples dent his cheek. 

He can’t be very grumpy when his sunshine girl is skipping back to him, juice box in hand as she settles back down on his lap. 

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

perfect ending for my fav story:( TELL ME WHAT BLURBS U WANNA SEE!!!! MANY MANY BLURBS TO COME BC I LOVE THIS STORY:(

sunshine masterlist

[eddies-ashtray]

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, here’s Eddie jerking off to the thought of you <3 (18+ ONLY)

***

It had started somewhat innocently. Well, as innocently as this could get. But still—Eddie hadn’t meant to let the thought slip into his mind while he gripped his cock in his hand, the combination of his pre-cum and spit acting as a lubricant to create that delicious, toe-curl-worthy slide.

When normally he would be perusing one of his dirty magazines, right now Eddie didn’t need—didn’t want—any of them. All he needed, all he wanted, was the thought of you.

Who could blame him though? His best friend was just so pretty. And today she’d worn that red skirt that drove him wild, made his head spin and his cock twitch in his jeans. But the worst part? She wore black socks that reached a few inches above her knees, showcasing a sliver of the pretty, soft dough of her thighs.

That’s what had made him desperate to get a hand around himself. A part of him felt ashamed for it. For thinking of her this way. But, God, it felt too good to stop. Any restraint he might have usually embodied was smashed to bits the moment you had showed up at his doorstep that day.

And now? Now he was left alone. The entire trailer to himself. And all Eddie could do the moment you’d left was touch himself to the thought of you. Of your gorgeous, biteable thighs.

Eddie’s grip on his cock tightened just slightly on an upstroke, causing him to groan, deep and needy. The image of your thighs pressing together flashed in his mind, pulling another unrestrained moan from his throat as he ran his thumb over the deep red tip.

Continuing his quick rhythm, the filthy, wet sound intensifies as his tip leaks more sticky pre-cum. Eddie’s free hand descends down his body to roll his balls in hand briefly. He lets out an honest to God whimper, incredibly sensitive.

Again, your thighs cross his mind, and all he can think about is licking them, biting them, marking you up with dark bruises. Later being able to casually reach over and grip the flesh of your thigh to make you squirm as he digs his fingers into the bruises he left. Eddie groans at the thought, head pushing back into the pillow below his head restlessly. He desperately needs to bury his face between your thighs, their fat pushing against either side of his head, muffling the world around him.

And then, of course, Eddie thinks of the worst—best—thing of all. He thinks about being in his exact position—laying back on the bed—, except you’d be on top of him, hovering over him. Kneeling so your thighs are on either side of his head, sinking down until he has his mouth on your wet cunt.

“Fuck,” Eddie drawls, hand impossibly speeding up over his cock. He’s close, closer than he’d thought. But, he guesses, this is what you do to him.

You’d have your thighs on either side of his head, your cunt being devoured by Eddie’s hungry mouth, and he’d snake his arms around your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer, wanting you to invade his every sense. Rob him of feeling, seeing, tasting anything else. He’d be happy to only ever be able to feel, see, and taste you forever. Take anything you want from him. Ride his face while he tongues at your puffy clit, licks you out, and laps at your cunt like he’s starving for it. Because he is. He needs it more than he needs oxygen. Needs your thighs around his head, needs to lick you and mark you and make you cum and cum and cum until you can’t feel anything anymore.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Eddie moans, scratchy and weak as he cums, releasing over his fist and stomach, and he swears he sees stars exploding behind his eyelids. Tiny, bright pops of light as he releases with the thought of your lovely thighs around his head and your sticky cunt on his tongue. As he opens his eyes for the first time since he’d wrapped his fist around himself, he’s panting heavily. Looking down at himself, he finds the big, sticky mess he’s made, and groans, dropping his head back onto the pillow. Eddie imagines that if his desires were to become reality, he wouldn’t just see stars as he came, but galaxies.

***

PART 2

[pogueswrld]

How about requesting for Harry, you and Harry are seeing each other but keeping it on the low and between free periods you pull him to make out and dry hump each other until he come in his pants

*•.¸♡ shadow kisses ♡¸.•*

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader

summary: EVERYONE’S OF AGE!! harry doesn’t know how to act when he wakes up desperate for his girlfriend’s touch, and yet he has to spend the entire day without her by his side. By the end of it, he’s almost ready to lose his mind for a kiss, thankfully she’s got other plans ;)

warnings: (everyone’s 18 here) hot harry 😩 this is gonna be nsfw so; make-out sesh, built-up sexual tension, vulgar language (?), dry humping, semi-public.

note: LEGIT LOSING MY MIND. GOING FERAL SO BAD RIGHT NOW. ANON ILYSM TJSHSJSJHDHD

Dating the Chosen One definitely has its downsides, especially when no one knows, but it also had its perks.

Like sneaking into dark rooms with greedy hands and short breathes, or side glances from across rooms and tables.

It was exhilarating, truly, and it seemed like neither one of the teenagers was able to get quite enough of the other, because at the end of each day, they’d find each other in the common room with bouncing legs and fidgeting hands, waiting painfully for it to empty so they can be in each other’s arms again.

Today was the same, except Harry had awoken with the desperate need of Y/N’s touch, the realization made him let out a groan of embarrassment, and he continued to regret it after Ron and Seamus started making fun of him for it. He chucked a pillow at their heads while using another one to press against his crouch. 

He was embarrassed and had to shower in freezing cold water to calm down, but his minimal effort went down the drain when the boys went down to breakfast and his first sight was her, in her knee-long skirt brushing up her thigh, and her tie squeezing around her neck. Immediately, his face went up in flames as his mind wandered to the previous night, when he had her on her knees before the fireplace in the common room, the way her eyes glistened as she looked up at him with adoration. Suddenly the room was on fire and his shirt was suffocating and his tie was choking him.

He cleared his throat as he took his place beside Ron and Hermione, adjusting his pants as he tried to sit down comfortably. His mistake was looking up in her direction, only to find her already staring up at him with glowing eyes and a spoon buried in her mouth. She looked like the absolute embodiment of mischief, and he almost whined at the hungry look in her eyes.

He couldn’t stop her on the way to class for a quick hug or even a kiss because they didn’t share the first three classes together, and Harry cursed his luck. He couldn’t believe he’d have to spend four hours without her near, and the longer he spends away from her the more painful sitting still got. The slightest move caused friction and he has to physically hold himself back from whimpering. He’s only grateful for the robe draped across his shoulders, without it he would’ve been long caught.

By the fifth hour, Harry could almost cry just from the sight of her, and when he takes a quick sweep around the hall to make sure there was no one to spot him dragging her away, he turns back to her, his fingers wrap around her wrist, and tugs her into a dimmed hallway.

Immediately, Y/N grabs his face with her free hand and smashes her lips against his. Harry, for the first time that day, let out a high-pitched whine at the warmth of her lips against his cold ones. He let go of her wrist and grabbed her waist instead, tugging her as close as he can get her, desperate for anything from her.

“Please,” he whines against her mouth, and it sends electric shots down her body and straight to her core. “I need you, darlin’ please.”

She whines, and her hands go from cupping his face to tugging off his robe. Harry helps her let go of it, but he’s more focused on her and her body than taking off his clothes, so he pulls at her tie until it comes loose, then quickly makes his way down her button-up shirt, all while groaning and whining when she grinds herself against him. He tugs her shirt out from under her skirt before pushing it apart, exposing her bra-covered chest, he whines again before pressing a soft kiss against her lips, then making his way down her neck.

Y/N melts, she arches her back when he gets to her chest and grips his forearms when his teeth graze the bra’s fabric before tugging it down, and she moans when his hot breath meets her nipples.

Her hips continue their desperate crusade of grinding against him, and she can feel him through his trouser. She’s almost tempted to reach down and squeeze him, just to tease him, but he pushes her against the wall while scattering love bites across her chest.

She’s heaving as she soaks through her panties, and her gasps turn into moans with his name. Harry’s eyes squeeze shut, and he lets out another whine of her name, “Do you have any idea what I’ve been thinking about all morning?” he mumbles as he grinds up against her core, and a moan escapes him at the momentary relief he receives. Y/N huffs a sigh when both of his hands tighten around her hips, pulling her closer to him as he continued to brush himself against her. “I think I have a pretty clear idea.” she gasps.

Harry shakes his head as he buries it in the nook of her neck, “You,” he says, “I’ve been thinking about you. Touching me, kissing me, holding me,” he gasps when she arches her back, pushing herself against him, “I’ve thought about you on your knees, like last night, sucking me off.” his voice was hoarse and low, his eyes were closed and Y/N remembered the marvelous sight of him from the night before, completely coming apart at her hands, shaking and whining her name. She moans.

“I thought about you pushing me down on that couch, I thought about you getting on top of me and using me for your own pleasure,” the thought, the image, passed his mind once again, and he didn’t hold back the moan that bubbled up his throat. His hold on her tightened, “I need you,” he gasps, “I need you so bad.”

They were humping each other now, the pieces of fabric were the only borders separating them from one another, and Y/N was getting desperate for his touch all over, she wanted him all over. “Harry please, touch me,” she whines, and his knees almost buckle.

He pulls her off the wall and she wraps her legs around him, he turns them around and slides down the wall, allowing her to have full control over the pace of their grinding. She gasps when she pushes herself down on him, and he leans back on one arm while the other holds her hips tightly. He dares a glance down to where she’s desperately moving on him and Harry lets out another whine when he notices a darkening patch on her panties slowly marking up his dark trousers.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold it, and from the way she’s marking up his neck with soft kisses and gasps of his name, he’s certain it won’t be much longer. When she reaches down between them and presses her hand against the bulge of his pants, that’s when he snaps. Both of his hands shoot up to her forearms and hold her tight, pausing her actions as he uncontrollably jerks upwards, his movement repeatedly bumps into her clothed clit and she throws her head back at how good it feels.

He stills after a minute and buries his face in her chest in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his chest heaving, and it takes Y/N a minute before she’s giggling in realization. She cups his jaw and slowly pushes his face off of her chest, his ears and cheeks going a bright shade of pink, “Harry Potter, did you cum in your trouser?”

Harry groans in embarrassment and hides his face in her hands, the heat transmits to her hands and she’s laughing. “Don’t laugh at me!” he whines, and she continues, “I’m sorry, I can’t help myself! You’re adorable when you’re shy, Potter.”

He rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her into a hug, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise love.”

[jenosbigtoe]

Hey I love ur blog and ur writing. Could u pls make another alpha jeno 🙏🙏🙏 .....no pressure.

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: step brother!alpha!lee jeno x reader

warnings: exes to lovers, stepcest (don’t read if you’re uncomfortable), abo, masturbation (f), marking, scenting, mating press, creampie, unprotected sex,

a/n: i felt like a part 2 to the one i already made wouldn’t make any sense so i added a twist… i kinda went crazy um it wasn’t supposed to be this long

when you found out your mom was marrying your first love’s, lee jeno’s, dad, you cried for weeks.

“m-mom, why would you do this to me?” you sobbed, tears rolling down your puffy eyes. “you know what he meant to me.”

“well y/n i’m sure you know what it’s like for an unmated omega to live in this world,” she responded, rubbing your back affectionately. “i love his dad and he loves me. we are getting married. it’s not like you’re even together anymore so it shouldn’t even matter.”

you jerked away from the contact and stomped all the way back to your room to cry even harder in your pillow all night.

you and your mother moved into your new stepdad’s house the next month. it all felt so fast. one day you found out your mother was marrying the father of the love of your life and now you’re moving into his house. how were you supposed to face your now stepbrother who was also your ex? the last time you’ve seen him was at that stupid wedding and it seemed he was barely acknowledging your existence. what went wrong between you two? he was the first alpha you ever fell in love with. the only alpha you’ve ever loved. the only alpha you still love. you wanted to be mates with him forever, have pups and a life together. and now he was your stepbrother.

it was torture, living in that house with him. knowing that being in love with your now stepbrother was oh so wrong. god, his scent was everywhere. his scent that has always driven you mad, making you so needy and wanting his affection. you would catch glimpses of him around the house, causing your omega to go crazy inside. he would be in the kitchen drinking a glass of water as you walked in for a snack. he’d be working out in the home gym right when you’d go to use the treadmill. he’d be on the couch, watching a tv show as you passed by the living room to get to the bathroom. every single time you wanted to snuggle up against his body and bury your face in his chest. you wanted him to give you one of his grins reserved only for you and call you his omega again. but he was only ever cordial to you, just acknowledging your presence every time you walked by but never going past that. nothing more than a small smile and a wave when he saw you, making you so upset and frustrated. you wanted him so bad.

as fresh newlyweds, your mom and stepdad decided it was a perfect time to go on a three month long honeymoon in europe and leave you alone with your stepbrother at the house. you begged and pleaded for your mom to just wait a little longer to let you adjust to the new environment before leaving you alone in that house, but she was set on enjoying her time with her new husband. so you were left with lee jeno, your step brother, or in your eyes, your alpha. your mate. the one that got away.

for the first week, you pouted and locked yourself in your room, refusing to leave except to eat or use the bathroom. and you avoided jeno even more than usual. the entire time you’d been living at that house, you and he left each other alone, only communicating when necessary. but your sudden reclusiveness even had him worried, as he knocked on your door many times during your tantrum. but you refused to answer, knowing that if you saw him you would go crazy.

then you had the perfect idea. why don’t you get revenge on your stupid mother for being so selfish and doing this to you? marrying your first love’s dad, making you live under the same roof as your ex and his father that you’ve known for only 2 months, and leaving you alone with said ex for three whole months? and what better way to exact revenge than to get with her new husband’s son? really in your eyes it was a win-win. you would get revenge on your mom for putting you in this position and you would get back with jeno, whom you’re still so in love with. (really it was just a win-win for you but who cares.)

for the next month, you used everything you knew about jeno to slowly drive him crazy over you. you started by wearing the little outfits you knew he loved seeing on you. the first time he saw you wearing a thin tank that showed off your plush tits with his favorite lacy bra, you didn’t miss how his eyes almost bulged out of his head. but jeno was a gentleman and continued treating you like normal. you would wear the skimpiest loungewear—shorts that hugged your ass and barely covered your panties, camis that would squeeze your tits, sometimes even going without a bra to expose your nipples. while jeno seemed like he didn’t notice the sudden change in your attire, you knew him better than that. you noticed every wandering eye, every stare that was just a second too long, every avoided eye contact. sometimes you would see him adjust his pants ever so slightly so you wouldn’t notice his growing erection. but you always did anyways.

you started initiating real conversations with him, asking him about his day and what he’s up to. you got a lot closer and more comfortable with him, and he with you. it seemed you were starting to become almost friends again, despite the weird exes and step siblings thing.

then you moved on to getting physically closer to him. when he was in the kitchen, you’d brush up behind him, making careful sure to press your tits against his back in attempts to scoot past. or he would be watching a movie on the couch and you’d saunter up in your little outfits saying, “ooh, i love this movie. can i watch?” as you plopped yourself next to him. you would complain about being cold and beg to lay under the blankets with him. you would snuggle yourself flush to his body underneath the covers, rubbing your head against his scent gland and scenting yourself. or even at night, sometimes you would knock on his door with fat tears in your eyes saying, “jen, i can’t sleep again. it’s hard trying to adjust living in this new house.” and jeno is so sweet, he’d welcome you with open arms and let you cuddle him in his bed as you fall asleep with a smirk in your face.

“best step brother ever,” you’d sometimes tell him, not missing how his body would tense up at the title.

it seemed like your plan to seduce jeno back into your arms was working, but not at the speed you wanted. by now, you wanted him jumping your bones and fucking you like animals. he should’ve claimed you as his mate once again. but he was set on being a gentleman, always so respectful of your space despite all the signs you were giving him. you saw the lustfilled stares he’d give you when he thought you weren’t looking. you saw how he’d have to adjust his pants to hide his erection when you brush up against his cock or show off your tits and ass.

so you decided to take a risk, in hopes of speeding up the process. you were tired of being so needy for him, knowing he wanted you just as bad. you needed your alpha, who the fuck cares if he was legally your step brother now? he was your mate first.

you knew jeno’s schedule like the back of your hand at this point. so you knew it would be a good 30 minutes before he’d come home from going to the gym with his buddies. taking this fact into consideration, you carefully snuck into jeno’s room. you loved his room so much. everything about it was so him, every little trinket or poster or piece of decor was a piece of lee jeno. his scent drenched the entire room and hit your nose as soon as you walked in, leaving you a melting puddle of mush. you had loved his scent so much, and it was the strongest in his room. you felt your panties dampen with the smell of his sexy intoxicating scent.

you heart was alight with nerves. slowly, you stripped down to just your bra and panties, leaving your shorts and tank on the side of his bed. it was his favorite set, the white lacy bra and matching white lacy panties with a small pink bow resting above your ass. you laid on his bed, turning your head to inhale deeply into his pillow. you let out a soft sigh of satisfaction.

slowly, you reached your hand down into your panties. you were already wet just from smelling his scent. you let one hand grope your breasts as you started teasing your hole with your fingers, going around the rim before slightly pumping a finger in and taking it back out. you imagine your fingers to be his, teasing and playing with your leaking pussy so good.

but your fingers were too small, you needed more. you added another finger and another finger, trying to pump them in and out of your pussy to hit that sweet spot but you couldn’t. your fingers couldn’t hit deep enough, couldn’t fill up your pussy like you needed. you were growing frustrated, tears pricked your eyes.

you didn’t even notice him at the door, watching your every move with pupils blown and lustfilled eyes.

“now what do we have here, baby?” jeno growled out, taking slow steps towards your needy body.

you whined and bucked your hips against your hand, one hand squeezing your tit and the other fingers deep inside your cunt. “jen..” you whimpered.

jeno walked over to the bed and crawled on top of your body, taking your hands and pinning them above your head in one hand and gripping your chin tightly with the other hand.

“you tease me for weeks, knowing how crazy you drive me. knowing i can’t do jack shit because you’re supposed to be my ex-girlfriend, my step sister. and now i catch you in my own bed, shoving fingers into your cunt?” he whispered lowly into your ears. you shuddered. he sounded pissed. and you loved it.

you rubbed your legs together. “oops,” you feigned innocence. at this point, your pussy was sopping and dripping onto the sheets below.

he spat out a “that’s it” and ripped your underwear clean off. he used your ripped panties to bound your wrists above your head. “don’t fucking move, brat,” he warned, as he stripped off his own clothes. “you’re getting it this time.”

your heart was about to beat out of your chest. this is what you’ve been fantasizing about for weeks. when he pulled out his angry cock, you almost drooled. he was so so big, tip red and drooling, veins running up and down his curved shaft. and his balls were so big and heavy. you wondered how he ever managed tk fit inside your little pussy, but he was your mate. of course he was going to fit.

with one deep thrust, he bottomed out in your tight cunt. you screamed in delight, body squirming and thrashing beneath his powerful thrusts. he used his strength to pin your hips down and prevent you from moving away from his thrusts, thick muscles bulging from effort.

“oh fuck,” you moaned out.

he put your legs up on your shoulders and smacked your ass. “fuck this pussy is just as good as i remember.”

he went impossibly harder and faster with every thrust. lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and heavy pants and moans filled the room. you struggled against the tie binding your wrists together but jeno growled and held you down tighter.

“fuck, you’re mine now, baby. never leaving you ever again. this pussy is mine. my girl. my omega. my mate,” he panted against your lips, pressing a deep kiss on your mouth.

your pussy gushed and clenched around his hard cock. “alpha,” you whined.

he used his weight to drive even deeper into you, tip kissing your cervix so sweetly. he nuzzled his head against your neck and starting scenting you. “my omega. mine…”

at this point, your mind was turning numb with pleasure. you were in a complete state of bliss. you’d never want anything more than being with your mate, your alpha like this.

“fuck, gonna cum, baby. gonna cum inside this delicious little pussy. everyone’s gonna know you’re mine when you’re round with my pups, when you have my mark on your neck,” he grunted.

you squirmed and bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts. “yes, please, alpha cum inside me! want your pups so bad. want to be your mate forever,” you whined, nuzzling your face into his wild hair.

he gave a few last deep thrusts before bottoming out completely as he came deep inside your dripping pussy. you gave him a sweet kiss as his cock twitched and throbbed deep inside.

he cradled your head and laid his forehead against yours. “y/n, i never stopped loving you. i’m sorry it took this long for me to tell you this but i want you to be mine. i don’t give a fuck about what anyone else will say, what our parents will say. i want you to be my mate forever,” he whispered, staring deep into your eyes.

it felt like he was laying his soul bare to you. tears pricked your eyes, this was all you had ever wanted. “oh, alpha,” you started. he wiped away the stray tears that fell from your eyes. “i missed you so much. i never stopped loving you. nothing will stop me from loving you. i want to be your mate forever.”

he leaned his head down to prod at the flesh of your neck, grazing your skin slightly with his teeth. you shivered and nodded your head, giving him permission to go further.

he left a deep mark on your neck, biting just hard enough to break skin and seal his bond on you. “baby, you’re mine now. no going back ever again.”

[shawtuzi]

no thoughts head empty just househusband!reiner

cw: black fem!reader, breeding kink, exhibitionism, lactation kink, kinda sub!reiner, mommy & daddy kink—i’m probably forgetting something but pls enjoy regardless

sfw

househusband!reiner who gets up before you every morning to make you your favorite breakfasts and coffee—yes he will pour the entire cup of coffee out if it’s even the tiniest bit too sweet. when it’s time for you to go he always makes sure to bid you farewell with a goodbye kiss.

househusband!reiner who will either have your lunch packed in ready in the morning for work (he leaves you a cute or spicy little note in every single one he packs) or will come to your job and surprise you with takeout.

househusband!reiner who spends his free time watching tutorials on youtube on how to style little black girls hair for your guys’ daughter. that is his baby right there and he absolutely loves seeing how happy she is after he finishes her hair.

househusband!reiner who constantly gets hit on by other moms whenever he picks up your daughter from ballet practice but he don’t even pay them women no mind too enamored in how cute his little angel looks in her leotard and tutu.

househusband!reiner who prepares a sweet treat every tuesday and thursday for your daughter when she gets off school or the two of them will make the dessert together and surprise you with it when you come home from work.

househusband!reiner who keeps the house nice and tidy all hours throughout the day—until your daughter comes home. her favorite game is to throw all the throw pillows and couch cushions on the floor and walk on them pretending that the floor is lava. whenever reiner tries to clean up the mess she uses those oh so cute puppy dog eyes and convinces him to join her.

househusband!reiner whose lock screen on his is a picture of you and him at the hospital holding your newborn little girl. his home screen is a picture of the two of you on your wedding day, his arms were wrapped around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek and you were smiling probably the hardest you’d ever smiled in your life. those two pictures meant the absolute world to him and he’d rather take a punch to the face than ever change them.

househusband!reiner who is a superb cook!! your daughter has never been a picky eater and it’s bc reiner’s meals are so damn good! every time you come home after a long day at work the table will already be set and there’s a plate waiting at your spot. if you’re working a late night he’ll have a big plate of leftovers waiting for you.

househusband!reiner who doesn’t give a single fuck that he’s a househusband no matter what anyone says. he loves catering to his daughter and hard working wife and at the end of the day he’s probably getting more play than they ever will. there’s nothing that turns a woman on more than a man who actually helps out around the house so best believe you and reiner are getting it in every other night.

nsfw

househusband!reiner who is a god tier pussy eater like this man is the definition of a munch. his fav thing to do is suckle on your clit while three of his thick fingers are shoved inside your clenching cunt. if you’re on a time crunch he knows how to make you cum in less than two minutes with ease but if he’s taking his time he’ll quite literally spend hours between your thighs until you push his head away in need for a break.

househusband!reiner who is soo whiny when you ride him you have to either cover his mouth with your hand or gag him with your panties. he loves when you take charge and even degrade him. no one on this earth is gonna be able to call reiner braun a ‘whiny little bitch’ and walk away still conscious except for you.

househusband!reiner who sometimes sneaks into your showers in the morning and fucks you silly. his intentions are pure at first but once you feel his hands start to grip at your waist/ass or wander to your lower region you know that he’s feeling a lil needy and who are you to deny your sweet husband?? that’s how you always end up pressed against the tiled wall while reiner hits it from the back, whining and moaning into your neck about how good you feel wrapped around him and how lucky he is to have a wife as beautiful as you were.

househusband!reiner who has the biggest breeding kink known to man. he’ll take any opportunity he can to cum in your sweet pussy and mumbles out little ‘thank you’s every time you let him. he’ll also settle for cumming on your pussy, ass, tits, etc.

househusband!reiner who is also into exhibitionism!! if you’re at your office he has no problem sneaking under your desk and throwing your legs over his shoulder and eating your pussy till your legs are shaking. if you’re a couple of glasses of wine in at a dinner party and suggest to sneak off to the bathroom together he’ll be trailing right behind you, his dick already semi-hard in his dress pants.

househusband!reiner who has a massive obsession with your breasts. he loves loves loves when you let him lay in your lap and and suck on your nipples while you jerk him off into overstimulation. if you’re wondering he one hundred percent drank your breast milk. the first time he did it he just couldn’t help it! it hurt his heart hearing how much pain you were in when your breasts were so full with milk so he quickly, yet gently lifted your shirt up and latched onto one of your nipples.

“r-rei,” you gasped gripping onto his hair to pull him away, your breast milk dripping down his chin. “what are you doing love hm?” you breathlessly giggled wiping the milk from his chin. reiner nuzzled his face into your tits, leaving gentle kisses on the smooth skin. “hate hearing how much pain you’re in when they’re full—i wanna help you. will you let me help you? please?” all it took was one look into those pretty brown eyes and you gave in letting him latch onto your nipple once more. by the time he was done he came in his pants and your panties were a soaked mess—safe to say whenever your breasts were feeling a little extra sore you went to reiner for help.

househusband!reiner who has a raging mommy kink and has no shame about it. it kinda ties in with his breeding kink—whenever he’s got you folded in half, thighs clapping against his pelvis he’s whispering the most dirty promises in your ear the word ‘mommy’ will slip past his kiss swollen lips a couple times.

“f-fuck mommy you feel so good shit,” he growled wrapping his hand around your neck. reiner leant down to give you a sloppy kiss full of tongue and teeth flashing before pulling away, “m’gonna fill you up n’ give you another baby i promise. you’d like that wouldn’t you mommy?” his moans were becoming more whiny and breathy and his thrusts were becoming sloppier by the minute—you could tell he was close and you knew exactly how to make him reach him peak. “yes d-daddy please—ah! p-please fill me up, ‘wanna carry your baby again.” reiner let out a loud groan, his hips stilling as spurt after spurt of his hot cum filled you up, your greedy pussy squeezing him like a vice to get every drop out. reiner rested his sweaty forehead against yours breathing out a small ‘thank you’. although the seemed tired and ready to call it a night that was far from the case. reiner let out a hum before sitting back up—suddenly you were flipped onto your stomach ass up, reiners still hard dick rubbing between your soaked folds. “we have the night to ourselves and you think i’m gonna tap out after four rounds? i must’ve really fucked you dumb huh? silly girl now arch that pretty back for me.”

[here2bbtstrash]

it's sweet (explicit)

genre: a fluffy lil sickfic

pairing: taehyung x reader

summary: you forgot to call out sick from your dick appointment, but he stays anyway.

word count: 4.3k

contains: no smut just fluff????? new year new me 😎 but as this is fuckbuddies to maybe-lovers and there are certainly a few references in here to sex, because of who i am as a person, it's enough that i'm tagging it explicit anyway lmao. but this is all fluff! reader has the flu, tae is a sweet sweet boi and takes care of her, it's all a bit sappy~ 🤧

A/N: happy new year!!! and a very happy belated birthday to my capricorn prince 💜 this soft little idea got stuck in my brain and wouldn't let go, and i had a lot more fun writing it than expected. plus i feel like i only wrote tae as a menace in 2022 (sorry to tae 👹) so i had to right my wrongs with this one lmao. it was a nice interlude before i jump into LDOMLT ch11 (the final chapter 😭) - i hope you all enjoy and that your 2023s are off to a pleasant start!!!

read on AO3!

~*~

You genuinely enjoy being single.

With your last relationship officially in the trash, you’ve found yourself settled into a comfortable peace. There’s no man in your life to mess up your plans, to force you to have to compromise or share anything, to suck up your energy and domestic labor like some kind of emotional vampire. You can do what you want, whenever you want, and you have a reliable rotation of both sex toys and fuckbuddies to keep you physically satisfied when the need arises.

Being single, you have come to learn, is fucking great.

Except when you get sick.

A knock at your apartment door drags you out of your DayQuil-induced slumber. You move to sit up with a sniffle before letting yourself drop back into your veritable nest of blankets on the couch, struck with the immediate recollection: it’s just the food you ordered. You’d specifically put in a request that they leave it at the door, but maybe the delivery person is just being nice and letting you know it’s there.

Except then they knock again.

And ring the doorbell.

“Jesus,” you groan to yourself, aggressively enough that you’re nearly sent into a fresh coughing fit, but you manage to choke down the spasm in your lungs as you drag yourself to standing. You cross the short distance from your couch to the front door, sure you look like death warmed over, and swing the door open.

At first, you’re certain it’s the DayQuil fucking with you.

“Taehyung?”

The corner of his mouth pulls up as he blinks sweetly at you, expressive almond eyes peeking out beneath untidy dark hair— extra fluffy today, like he’s just washed it and waltzed out of the house without any styling. His clothes tell the same story, a plain gray hoodie and joggers, creased a little like he’d just pulled them off his bedroom floor, though everything looks fresh off the runway on him.

As your eyes trail down his frame, you take in the container of ramen you ordered, held easily in one of his large hands, his long fingers hooking over the side.

His presence is typically a welcome one, particularly on Friday nights like tonight, but those are circumstances where you tend to be a little more… put together. So why is he here tonight?

“When did you start working for D—”

The food delivery service name dies on your tongue as your thoughts finally catch up with your mouth. He’s here tonight because it’s Friday, and this is what you do on Fridays. He’s here because you didn’t cancel. You’d had the thought in a drowsy half-awake state between naps, then had promptly rolled over and pressed your face into the pillow, telling yourself you’d remember to text Taehyung when you woke up.

Which of course, you did not. And so here he is, having clearly intercepted your delivery. And, it now occurs to you, having to witness how absolutely godawful you must look in your stained sweatpants, your hair surely a mess from a day spent napping on the couch.

“Oh fuck,” you mutter, quickly crossing your arms over your baggy t-shirt, suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re not wearing a bra. Why that matters when you’re standing in front of a man who regularly leaves hickeys all over your tits, you’re not sure, but in this moment it somehow feels like it does.

“Tae,” you take a step back, trying to keep him out of your germ radius. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to text you. I’m super sick, I think it’s the flu. You should go.”

He frowns a little, his eyes jumping from you down to the takeout container in his hands. “This is like, barely warm.”

That makes you smile a little despite yourself. A very Taehyung greeting.

“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes. “I pay twice as much so it can take an hour and be cold by the time it gets here. Makes sense, right?”

His dazzling smile at your sarcastic remark only heightens your own self-consciousness, and you quickly extend a hand for the container.

“Sorry to make you come all this way. Hopefully next week I’ll be back to normal.”

Taehyung nods, yet makes no move to hand over the soup he’s currently holding hostage. “You should rest. Let me heat it up for you.”

You can’t help but wonder what he expects to happen when he crosses the threshold, and that makes you heave a sigh, then quickly bury the cough that chases after it into the crook of your elbow.

Thankfully your voice doesn’t give out when you manage to answer him. “I’m serious, Tae. I’m not—” you pause, considering how to phrase it: desperate to be railed? “—you know, the way I usually am on Fridays. Nothing’s gonna happen tonight. Except maybe you’ll get sick.”

He shrugs, like there are worse things. “I get it. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

At least he’s been sufficiently warned, you think to yourself, and then you relent, leaving the front door of your apartment swung wide as you step back across the living room to promptly collapse onto the couch again. You bury your face in the blankets with a muffled groan as you hear Taehyung shut the door behind him, then make his way into the kitchen.

As is typical with any man that enters your kitchen, you expect to have to walk Taehyung step-by-step through how to do everything. But, to your surprise, he asks no questions: he seems to find a good-sized pot and figure out how to work the stove all on his own, and you can hear him humming softly to himself as he goes.

Truly a credit to the male species, you think to yourself with a bitter laugh.

You collapse back against the cushions, a little too aware of the fuckbuddy in your kitchen to be able to drift off to sleep entirely. Nevertheless, you still find yourself slipping into a haze, your eyes dropping shut just to snap open again at the tap of a bowl being set down on the coffee table in front of you.

Your eyes widen as you sit up and stare down at your ramen, only to find two halves of a soft-boiled egg staring back up at you. You’d ordered from your favorite place in the city, which is easily the best ramen you’ve had in your life, but you know those fuckers charge extra for an egg. Which is why your cheap ass never orders one.

But here one is. So that means…

Taehyung drops down onto the couch next to you before you can even finish compiling the thought in your brain, but he must be able to read the look on your face. “Oh, do you not like eggs?”

“I— no,” you answer quickly. “I mean yes. I mean, I like them, I just… Thank you.”

You glance up in time to see him shrug, his mouth twisting a little, like he’s suddenly made shy by his own kindness. “Gotta get your protein in,” he offers casually, and you laugh over the steam rising up from your bowl.

He keeps a tentative cushion’s distance away from you, but you can feel his eyes watching as you take your first sip of the rich, warm broth. While you slurp it down, you tell yourself not to get greedy with Taehyung’s time: you expect this will be it, that with his act of kindness done for the day, he’ll get to his feet and be on his way. As soon as your front door slams shut behind him, he’ll probably be pulling up his text messages with one of the many other options that must be available to him.

You try to ignore the way that thought makes your stomach twist, to just eat your damn soup and not think about it. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

But to your surprise, Taehyung leans forward and snatches the TV remote off your coffee table with a triumphant sigh before slumping back against the couch, like he’s settling in. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You shake your head as you take another sip before answering. “You really don’t have to stay, Tae. I can appreciate that I’m not a lot of fun to be around tonight. And obviously you didn’t come here to watch me eat ramen.”

Already starting to scroll through your streaming services, Taehyung runs his free hand through his hair with a knowing, slightly horny smile. “Depends on what you mean by eat ramen.”

You nearly choke on a noodle, but he’s otherwise distracted, mouth dropping open a little as he clicks into one of the options.

“Oh, I know what we can watch.”

When he pulls up A Charlie Brown Christmas and promptly presses play, you can’t help smirking. “Christmas? You’re, what, five days late?”

Taehyung’s mouth opens again, like he’s going to say something, and then he just smiles that same self-conscious smile. “Ah, I just like the music.”

His long fingers splay out in front of him, miming along to the opening melody while he adopts the faux-cool expression of a jazz pianist. You hide a giggle in another sip of broth, and he quickly shrugs the impression off, crossing his arms over his chest as if to keep his limbs under control.

“And it’s cute,” he adds, voice halfway between shy and sentimental. “The little tree.”

It occurs to you now that you’ve never seen Taehyung so… your brain can’t find the right word. He’s just different tonight.

You nod as you slurp up a strand of noodles, and you can’t deny that he’s right as the movie plays on. It’s been years since you’ve seen it, not since you were a kid, but it’s just as enjoyable now, somehow timeless. You find yourself smiling softly as you finish your meal and settle back against the couch, tugging the blanket up to your chin.

All at once, Taehyung jumps up, and you watch dumbfounded as he silently scoops up your dishes and disappears off to the kitchen. When you hear the tap switch on, your jaw drops in sheer disbelief, and you sit up again, peeking over the back of the couch to get a glimpse of him: he’s pulled on the dishwashing gloves you keep tucked next to the sink and is making short work of not just the bowl and the pot, but the takeout container too, and your various other sick-person dishes you’d regrettably let pile up. Humming to himself along with Vince Guaraldi, like it’s something he does every day.

Your head spins as you drop back down against the cushion. What is happening? Did you take too much cold medicine?

That thought only reverberates louder in your brain when he returns, still humming the last few notes of the song. This time he chooses to settle in right beside you on the couch, as if entirely unconcerned about the contagious virus running rampant in your body— he just pulls you into his side, one arm wrapped over your shoulders, fingertips casually starting to play with the ends of your hair. Like it’s that easy.

You glance up at him, shaking your head a little, and Taehyung looks down to meet your gaze. “What?”

“This is just…” An incredulous laugh cuts off the end of your sentence. It’s hard to believe you’re looking at the same person. This can’t be the man who wraps his hand around your throat as he spits into your mouth, who will keep you in his bed for hours until you’re crying from overstimulation, who fucks you so good you can hardly walk the next day.

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” you admit, pairing the words with a finger driven gently into Taehyung’s ribs. He squirms a little. “You’re… sweet.”

Taehyung’s lips part, and then he pauses, clearly considering how exactly to answer you. His mouth turns up soft at the corners, hesitant, as if he’s embarrassed to say what comes next. And then he says it. “You didn’t seem like you wanted sweet.”

The words settle over you, offered quietly in the low, rich tones of his voice, and as you keep gazing up at him, it strikes you: he’s not wrong. If he’d pulled this cozy domestic housewife act on you any earlier, on a normal Friday, you would’ve sent him packing without hesitation.

That thought makes you a little sad.

You tuck back in against Taehyung’s side, trying to refocus on the TV screen as you snuggle in under the blanket. Pressed close like this, you can feel the sturdy thud of his heartbeat in his chest, at a rhythm not dissimilar to yours.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone,” you breathe, and you swear you can hear him smile.

His touch lingers as the last few minutes of the movie play on: slipping from the ends of your hair to trace over the fabric of your shirt, then sliding further up to dip beneath the collar of it. The talented fingers you’ve become well-acquainted with work their magic in a new way, pressing firm circles into the muscles of your shoulders, muscles you didn’t realize were pinched so tight until he starts to work them open.

“Fuck,” you murmur, shifting a little to allow him better access as he continues. “That feels so good.” You can’t quite help the laugh that flutters out after your words; it’s certainly not the first time he’s made you say them.

There’s a small huff of breath from Taehyung beside you, and then his hand moves up to cup the back of your neck and give a gentle squeeze. It’s a comforting motion, and just arousing enough to make you sigh a note, your eyes briefly dropping shut. When they flutter open again, you realize the movie has ended, that he’s looking down at you, a knowing smirk toying at his lips.

“Don’t start,” you warn, unable to keep your voice entirely serious. “I meant what I said, I’m tapped out for the night.”

Taehyung raises his palms in the air, as if to claim his innocence, and you find yourself instantly missing the heat of his hand on your skin. “All I was thinking is that I kinda want dessert. Too tapped out for that?”

“I’ll never say no to dessert,” you admit with a soft smile. “I think I have ice cream in the freezer.”

Something glints in Taehyung’s eyes at your words. All at once he untangles himself from you and, rather than standing up and walking the long way around like a normal human, chooses instead to vault himself over the back of the couch, as if to get your freezer as fast as possible. You tip back against the cushions, momentarily overcome with laughter, and thankfully, it doesn’t trigger a cough attack.

After a second, you cocoon the blanket around yourself, then get up to follow after him, dropping unceremoniously down onto one of the barstools tucked on the far side of your kitchen island.

Taehyung glances up, clearly surprised, then continues trying drawers until he finds the silverware and retrieves two spoons.

“Just want to keep you company,” you say by way of explanation as he hands you one, and you reach down to pry off the lid of the pint of chocolate ice cream he’s set down on the counter. It’s only as you glance up again that you realize he’s grabbed something else, too, and is continuing to rummage through your cupboards. “Wait, what are you doing?”

There’s an innocent look on Taehyung’s face as he rights himself, the handle of a pan clutched in one hand. “I found something when I was looking for the ice cream. It’s my favorite. And I thought it might make you feel better, too.”

“Uh huh,” you intone, though your mouth is already starting to tick up, endeared. “A completely selfless act, I’m sure.”

“Of course it is,” he answers with an over-exaggerated wink, flipping the pan cooly in his grip. You squint at the bag as he thuds it down on the counter beside him, then sets the pan on the stove and flips on the burner beneath it.

Hotteok. You’d completely forgotten you’d even picked the bag of frozen sweet pancakes up a few weeks ago, that you had purposefully tucked them into the back of your fridge for a particularly good— or bad— day.

“Chef Kim,” you ask, feigning the tone of a journalist conducting an important interview as you fish your phone out of the pocket of your sweatpants. “Can I interest you in some background music, or do you prefer to cook in absolute silence?”

Taehyung glances back over his shoulder at you, his grin nearly too big for his face. “How about Sinatra?”

You raise one eyebrow at the admittedly unexpected suggestion. “Frank or Nancy?”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering. “Either.”

It’s only a few taps, and then Come Fly With Me is floating out of your Bluetooth speaker, and Taehyung is singing along to himself as he drops a frozen disc onto the heated pan, occasionally turning back to deliver lines to you with an extended hand.

You roll your eyes as you drag your spoon through the top layer of softening ice cream, sucking it into your mouth in an attempt to hide the grin that’s spread over your face.

By the third song you find yourself humming along too, trying not to put too much strain on your still-weak throat. The kitchen has started to smell of sweet, toasted dough as Taehyung works diligently at the stove, and he finally flips the burner off before turning back to you, a plate in each hand and a thick pancake stacked atop each plate.

“Sous chef, will you please apply the ice cream?” he asks, eyes wide and blinking as he sets the dishes down.

Quickly playing along, you nod as you begin to scoop a healthy amount onto each plate. “Yes, chef!”

“And sous chef, do you, uh… have any chocolate sauce?”

You bite back a laugh as his roleplay falls apart as quickly as it began. “It’s in the fridge.”

Taehyung promptly turns and pulls the door open, eyes searching the shelves before he finally spots the dark brown bottle and lets out a triumphant hum. He nudges the fridge shut again with his hip before striding back toward you.

“Plating is key,” he muses. You answer with an appreciative nod and a giggle when he uncaps the sauce, then leans down close to the plates, feigning intense focus as he drizzles each dollop of ice cream with stripes of chocolate.

Once his artful design is complete, he steps back, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth as he spins one plate to admire his handiwork.

“What do you think, chef?” you tease, and he nods once, decisive.

“It’s perfect.” He glances up, shooting you a grin that knocks the breath from your lungs, and you try to collect yourself as he nudges a plate toward you, encouraging you to take a bite.

You carve your spoon through the pastry, right down the middle where it’s stuffed full of sweet brown sugar syrup. The flaky layers pull apart at the impact, warm enough that you can see steam rising off of the golden dough. You pair a small piece of pancake with a wedge of ice cream on your spoon, then bring both into your mouth at once, and the contrasting mixtures linger on your tongue: hot and cold, sticky sugar chased by rich chocolate. It’s so good that you can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise as you press your hand to your mouth and chew.

“Do you want to know something?” Taehyung’s voice pulls your attention back, and you look up at him.

“What?”

“Today’s my birthday.”

There’s a split second where you wonder if this is another imagined scenario, and then your eyes widen as you take in the look on his face and realize he’s entirely serious.

“Wait, Taehyung, really?”

He nods once, bringing a spoonful of ice cream to his lips.

“I-I had no idea,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like an asshole. His birthday, and he’s here waiting on you hand and foot, while you haven’t so much as said a word of felicitations. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he’s waving away your apology with his spoon, then proceeding to answer around his bite of food. “It’s not like I expected you to know. I don’t really make a big deal of it.” He shrugs. “I tend to… I don't know. I get sort of melancholy this time of year. The holidays, my birthday. It’s a lot all at once. A lot of pressure. To be happy. To have everything figured out.”

Nodding slowly, you let his words fully wash over you before you respond. “I get that,” you finally murmur, working off another piece of hotteok. “Nobody ever talks about it, but I feel like birthdays are kinda weird as an adult. You have enough of them and it just starts to feel like a day, you know? Not special.”

“I usually find myself just hiding out, waiting for it to be over,” Taehyung admits.

You take a second to think back. “Yeah. I didn’t even do anything on my birthday this year.” A self-pitying laugh rises up before you can stop it. “Honestly, this whole year was such a flop. I’m glad it’s nearly done.”

Taehyung makes a face like he can’t disagree. “Hey, sometimes that’s life.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly, then reaches a palm across the table. “Can I play a song?”

“Go ahead,” you offer, pushing your phone into his hand. You scrape your spoon along your dwindling dessert, and haven’t even managed to bring the assembled bite to your mouth before the music changes— from one Frank Sinatra song to another, this one with a driving blues rhythm.

Taehyung is already on his feet, hips starting to sway. “Ah, come on. You have to dance with me.”

He’s closed the distance between you before you can even protest, his hands smoothing across the blanket still wrapped over your shoulders.

“Let me take your coat, ma’am.”

You shift off the stool and onto your feet with a smile as he unwraps the blanket from around you and tosses it toward the back of the couch, missing by at least a foot.

“Why thank you,” you tease, feigning some kind of Transatlantic lilt to your voice that makes him really laugh. “Such a gentleman.”

Taehyung turns to face you again, and then you feel his large hand pressing to the small of your back, warm even through the fabric of your shirt, and your heart stutters a little. You take his other hand in yours and let him lead, let him pull you all the way in until you can turn your head and press your cheek to the firm plane of his chest.

Frank Sinatra croons on about how you can’t let life get you down, and suddenly there’s a weight settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I feel bad, Taehyung,” you admit, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking right back down at you. “That you’re here with me tonight.”

“Why?” he asks, like he really doesn’t know.

“Because,” you shake your head. “I don’t know. There’s a million better places you could be. I can’t even give you birthday sex.”

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t want to,” he answers simply, then leans back, guiding you under his arm for a spin.

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, catches on the first syllable of your reply as you twirl. “A-are you sure?”

Taehyung nods, thoughtful, when you come back to center again. “This is a good reminder that… I like taking care of people. It’s been a while since anyone’s let me.” The hand holding yours gives a gentle squeeze, and you can’t help but squeeze back.

“Well, thank you for taking care of me,” you answer softly. “You did a good job. Pretty sure I’m on the mend already.” You blink up at him through your lashes, and the way his eyes are fixed on you makes your heart squeeze, too.

It’s nearly overwhelming, taking him in like this, close enough that you can see every stray beauty mark kissed over his handsome features. Fluffy-haired, big-dicked Kim Taehyung— who would’ve thought?

Taehyung’s adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows, and you feel a sudden rush of heat all over, one you don’t quite think you can blame on a fever. It hardly even occurs to you that the two of you have come to a complete standstill now, barefoot in the middle of your kitchen, Taehyung’s palm pressed to your back, the fingers of your joined hands now shifting to lace together.

“Taehyung,” you’re breathing his name before you even realize it. “Would you… want to stay here tonight? Like, sleep together, literally?”

The smile that flashes over his face is nothing short of brilliant. “Yeah, okay.”

Your voice dips a little lower, teasing, as you smile back. “I really do think I’m feeling better, so. Maybe in the morning I can take care of you, too.”

Taehyung’s fingers brush the length of your jaw, then reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue.

“I’ve got this spray that makes my throat totally numb, so.”

He pauses, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, but he can’t quite keep a straight face. “Fuck, why is that so sexy?”

You’re laughing against his lips when he kisses you.

[bitchinbarzal]

Ends in tears | T Meier

summary: he loved the girl across the hall but he couldn’t help make her cry.

warnings: contains mentions of sex, smut!

-

Nico had asked around about an apartment early February and you jumped to tell him your neighbour had just moved.

When Timo moved in you fell head first in love and it was bad for your health. With every soft smile, every platonic hug and wink you fell harder.

Nico had warned both of you not to get involved

“It can only end in tears”

His warning fell on deaf ears as you found yourself falling into bed with the devil.

“Oh, fuck!” You moaned into the pillow while Timo’s hips snapped to yours.

“God babygirl…” he groaned, grabbing a handful of your to lift the top of your body off the sheets “You’re fucking perfect”

You cried out, reaching back to hold onto his hand that’s in your hair “T- Fuck, harder!”

A smirk crept onto his face “Yeah? This what you want?” He muttered before slamming into you, throwing both of you forward onto the sheets again, his cum dripping of you onto the black sheets.

He stayed the night and multiple nights after.

When the season ended in the heartbreaking way it did, he didn’t go straight back to Herisau he stayed to be with you for a couple of weeks.

The two of you headed to Cancun to tan on sun loungers, drink cocktails and have way too much sex.

You were on cloud nine, the smile never left your face. You spent the sunset by the beach, leaning back into his chest while he held you.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been… Nico was wrong, no tears”

He kisses the top of your head “I’d never make you cry”

Your love bubble popped swiftly after heading back to New Jersey when Timo did have to go back to Switzerland, leaving you just waiting for him to come back.

During the off season you still had work, stuck to your routine and watching Timo living life on Yachts and partying in Ibiza.

With each week his texts slowly fizzled out until you were left on read.

You knew he’d returned to Jersey, Nico had told you but also you’d seen him coming into the building from time to time.

You ran into him on the first day of training camp, both of you leaving the house at the same time.

You caught eyes and his immediately darted away, as if he couldn’t look at you.

A lump formed in your throat and you smiled softly “Good to see you got back safe, haven’t heard from you”

“Yeah” he mumbled, trying to find his key “Been busy”

You hummed “Yeah ok” and walked off, rushing to close the elevator door before he could get in.

You tried your best to avoid him for weeks, not being able to handle the crushing feeling in your chest.

Timo had noticed your absence in the hallways and the elevator or even at team events when you’d usually be with Nico the whole time.

The season was a few weeks in and you were making dinner, only to find you hadn’t bought an onion. Instead of walking to the store you were just going to ask Timo for one.

You stared at his door from yours for a moment to gain courage before you knocked. Except instead of a

“Hang on” or a “Gimme a sec!”

You could hear him moaning along with female voice calling out to him

“Oh Timo, harder! Harder!”

You gasped lowly, hand clasping over your mouth while you tried not to cry.

Back in your apartment you slammed the door shut, throwing yourself against it and lowering yourself to the floor before you began sobbing.

You’d been there long enough to hear him letting her out, watching through the peephole as they kissed, her hands lingering on his shirtless body too long for your liking.

You thought back to that day on the beach, pressed against his chest while he told you he’d never make you cry.

He lied right to you and you trusted him like an idiot.

The devils headed out on a week long roadie after that so you had time, no Timo around.

When they returned that weekend Timo immediately noticed your front door mat was gone.

Then before he could open his door yours opened and out walked a couple and a woman with a clipboard

“So as you can see the house- oh hello! Nice to meet the neighbours” Timo frowns

“Neighbours?”

“We just bought this apartment! It’s lovely to meet you” the husband explains.

“But that’s y/n’s house” is all he said before the agent said

“Yes Miss Y/L/N moved this past week, let’s go get that paperwork done!”

Leaving Timo more than confused when he entered his apartment. He looked down to his feet where an envelope sat with his name in your handwriting.

He shut his eyes and sighed before picking it up, the weight of it let him know exactly what it was.

Settling into the apartment he ripped the envelope, his keys falling out along with a note.

Timo,

I’m returning your spare key, I won’t need it anymore. Maybe your new neighbour will water the plants! I can’t be here anymore, watching you be happy when you single handedly broke my heart.

Nico was right, this ended in tears and you promised you’d never make me cry.

Goodbye T

The paper scrunched in his hand while he huffed, attempting not to let his tears fall.

“It always ends in tears”

[lunarfleur]

My I Love You ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales

Tagging: @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @gloomyluvr @hiyaitssans

Warnings: None except for slight cursing!

A/N:I got this wonderful idea from @/gloomyluvr. I just love this sm

This is x gender neutral reader!

Miles was so warm.

That’s the only thing you could think about. He generated heat like the sun, his skin a firey blanket you knew he would only let you enjoy. It was soothing you, but you didn’t even know you needed soothing.

Miles was a different kind of gentle with you, a sweet kind of soft you hadn’t even known possible. You’d seen him be kind to his mom-who he loved so dearly-but even with her you would find his typical teenage pride held off his affection. He didn’t seem as ashamed with you.

You sat in his room quietly, his arm keeping you tucked closely against his body. Even through his clothes, his warmth spread over your skin like a disease. His cheek sat gently on the top of your head, his free hand sitting behind his own. His door was cracked open, leaving a single sliver of light sitting against his otherwise dark room, at the request of his mother.

Footloose played in front of you, his laptop sitting on his thighs, covered in his comfiest black sweatpants. His fingers played with the hem of your t-shirt sleeve. The fabric pushed and pulled against your skin.

Looking at him, you hummed. He was pretty. Very pretty. The light that came from the hallway made his rich skin shine. The specks of green in his eyes glowed. His nose sat so nicely against his face. His jaw, even when slacked or relaxed, was tight and firm.

Noticing your eyes, Miles glanced at you. A small smirk grew on his lips.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He asked. You shook your head. His fingers danced across the skin of your arm softly.

But even when you forced your attention back to the movie in front of you, Miles’s eyes didn’t leave you. It was a solid 2 minutes before he realized he was even doing it.

He tapped you gently on the shoulder, sitting up straight. You expected him to pause the movie, to get up to use the restroom. But he instead slid his hands up from your neck to the sides of your face.

“Tell me to stop?” He whispered. But it wasn’t a demand, nor was it a threat. It was suggestion, an invitation.

You shook your head, and Miles leaned in slowly. His lips only ghosted yours until you moved into his touch. You felt him tense, his shoulders straightening, then his whole body relaxed altogether.

Once you pulled away, eyes opening, he sat in front of you. His eyes remained closed. His lips pressed tightly into a firm line. They opened slowly.

“Everything okay?” You asked. He nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I just,” Miles hesitated. “I just really…love you.”

Fuck. That was new.

You had said it a few times before, as a goodbye when hanging up the phone or parting for the night. He’d leave you with a kiss on the corner of your mouth, but always resorted to avoiding the phrase altogether. It was out of fear on his part.

A part of Miles told him that those three words were a jinx, that if you said them it automatically meant things weren’t going to last; that something would go wrong. Every relationship his uncle ever had ended quickly and his father had died. His mother was left heartbroken. That was proof enough, right?

‘Our family doesn’t run from things, mijo,’ his mother had always said.

So he sat before you, watching the way your eyebrows raised. He could have sworn your eyes were glowing.

You leaned forward, fingers intertwining with his. You leaned back against the pillows, pulling him back with you.

“I love you, too.”

He released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding and leaned back. His arm snaked back around your shoulder, this time your hand grabbed onto his. His weight pressed against you, heavier this time. His eyes stared at the side of your face.

Looking over at him, you were quick to give him a reassuring smile. You knew it was hard for him, but God did it make you feel good.

He smiled back at you, a sight you knew he’d only let you enjoy, before firmly pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.