#so you hit rock bottom and have to crawl your way back out with the help of some unexpected allies

[orcelito]

Guys I think the writing for fire emblem engage is somehow worse than fire emblem fates. Im a longtime fire emblem fan, I've played every recent game, and this... this is just Awful lmfao

Im still having plenty of fun & I have my handful of characters I love soooo much. But God fucking damn this writing is just some of the worst I've ever seen in a game

(Major spoilers in tags. Ran out of tags so I can't spoiler tag hfkshfj.

Final conclusion (since I ran out of tags): What Even Is This Fucking Game. Definitely my least favorite fire emblem game in many respects, but By God I'm going to finish this bitch and I'm gonna have plenty of fun as I do so. And I'm also going to make fun of every narrative choice it makes along the way bc the writing in this game is just SO fucking bad holy shit. I just need to finish this game and get on with my life already. God fuckin damn.)

[rubiehart]

cockwarming bestfriend jayj would just be so ughhhhhhhhhh. you’re both a little past the point of tipsy, having slipped away together from the kegger back to the chateau, legs tangled together in the hammock as you watch jj slowly inhale the joint he still managed to roll pretty well even in his intoxicated state. his eyes flutter closed as he sucks in the smoke and reaches over to place it between your fingers as he blows it out, too focused on the way the smoke clouds his face and then disappears, blue eyes trained on your figure, raking up your bare legs and ending on your face.

you blink away the thought and bring the joint to your lips and inhale deeply, looking into his eyes as your hold the smoke in your mouth, not too sure what this eye contact meant from his end but you knew exactly why you were doing it, the reason evident as you feel your cotton panties dampen a little, choosing to ignore it as he reaches his arms up behind his head and groans, stretching his legs out and his foot nudges your leg to get your attention.

you rip your eyes away from his for a second, your high clearly taking over your actions, grinning at jj as he knits his brows together, a little smirk laying on his rubied lips, tonguing the little cut on his bottom lip as he watches your frame. you pass him the joint and he takes another long hit, coughing a little when you start crawling up his body, situating yourself on his lap. he reaches one hand to hold your waist as his eyes widen. “oh- hey, watch’a doin?” you just smile and giggle as you reach down to capture his lips in a kiss.

he groans into your mouth and releases the smoke he’d been holding. you start to slowly grind on him, little whines of pleasure leaving your lips as he winds his tongue with yours, kissing you back as desperately as you. pulling away for a second and using his thumb to wipe away a string of saliva from your lip while you look at him all big eyed. “jayj..” you whisper before he nods, as you fumble with the buttons of his cargo shorts, pushing them down his thighs until his boxers are exposed, flicking your eyes up to see his dilated pupils and parted lips, the joint still between his ring-clad fingers.

he brings it to your lips as you pull down his boxers, his rock hard cock standing up, his mushroom tip leaking precum. he groans, eyes widening when he sees you unbutton your tiny denim shorts you’d been teasing him with all night, slipping them down your legs to reveal your little cotton panties, biting your lip and looking up at him whilst slipping them to the side, the weed seemed to give you some new found confidence, and maybe the way jj was looking at you “jesus fuckin’ christ..” he mumbles at the sight of your glistening cunt in the moonlight, prepping your hands on his chest, lifting yourself up.

“hey, hey, hey. a-are you sure?” he asks, panicked at your sudden confidence as you nod eagerly. “are you?” you giggle, still hovering over his cock. “fuck yeah.” he grins as you finally sink down, hissing at the stretch, his eyes transfixed on your face the whole time, your tiny pussy stretching around his dick making him groan, your face comforting and whining when he’s about halfway in, him grasping both hands to your hips after putting the blunt out on the bark and dropping it to the dirt. “shhh.. you got it, yeah?” you nod slowly, teeth sinking into your lip as your resist the pain, stroking your hip with his thumb softly. “good, goooood girl. there ya’ go.” the praise sliding off his tongue so casually making you clench around him. finally getting to the hilt and he lets out a huff.

“feel so fuckin’ good..” he whimpers, as you roll your hips a little to get used to the feeling making him let out a pornographic groan. “you’re so big..” you whisper, leaning down to rest your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the stubble on his chin against your forehead as he breathes deeply. “keep talkin’ like that and i’ll fuckin’ bust.” he whispers into your hair making you giggle a little, leaving a little love bite on his neck and he reaches down to cup your ass, kneeding the fat of it in his palms as you roll your hips gently, making him suck in a breath. “fuck..you’re gonna kill me baby.”

[yuutx]

ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 ? ! (𝒮𝒞𝒜𝑅𝒜𝑀𝒪𝒰𝒞𝐻𝐸)

roommate! scaramouche x f!reader ﾉ 18+ content. ﾉ nsfw + unprotected sex / raw sex ﾉ modern au / roommate au ﾉ male masturbation ﾉ clit play ﾉ dirty talk ﾉ oral sex (f receiving) ﾉ nipple play / tit play ﾉ biting ﾉ teasing ﾉ size kink ﾉ mdom + fsub ﾉ not proofread ! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

thirst was requested ! so sorry i didn't get this out sooner ! tumblr also ended up deleting your thirst from my inbox ! i hope you enjoy reading thissss ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

The headboard slammed against the wall, creating a loud, repetitive bang. The bed was creaking, the springs crying out as the mattress dipped and shifted beneath his body. His head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. A loud, breathless groan left his lips, his face flushed a pretty red. His hair was plastered to his forehead, beads of sweat rolling down his neck, his skin glistening. His chest heaved, the rapid rise and fall of his chest mesmerizing, and you were unable to tear your eyes away. It was like you were in a trance, his noises, the way he looked, the way he writhed and squirmed was captivating, and you couldn't help but watch him with an expression of pure awe. The scene before you was better than anything you could have ever imagined.

The crack in the door was ajar, just wide enough for you to peer through. You had heard a strange noise, a thump, something hitting the floor. It had woken you up, the noise sounding suspicious, and you had crept down the hallway, towards the closed bedroom door. You had been planning on checking in on him, to make sure that nothing was wrong, that everything was alright. But the sight before you was enough to have your heart pounding, a rush of heat flooding to the pit of your stomach. You knew you should leave, should give him privacy, but you couldn't tear your eyes away, the urge to watch him too strong. He practically radiated sex, his moans breathless and erotic, his voice a deep rumble, a husky, desperate sound. "Y/N..Oh, fuck.." he groaned, his back arching off the bed, the sheets tangled around his legs, the muscles of his abdomen rippling. Your mouth went dry, the sight absolutely delectable, and your eyes widened. You hadn't expected him to say your name. You were tempted to reveal yourself, to crawl into bed with him, but something kept you rooted in place.

His hand moved rapidly, the muscles of his arms flexing, the tendons standing out as he stroked himself, his fingers wrapping tightly around his length. His free hand groped at his chest, his hips rocking as he thrust upwards, his movements becoming erratic. "Fuck, Y/N.." he moaned, the sound sending a shock of arousal down your spine. "I want you.. I want you s' fucking bad.. You have no idea.." His words sent a wave of heat through you, the sound of his voice enough to make you dizzy. He sounded so good, so desperate, his voice cracking as his chest heaved, the air leaving his lungs in short, rapid bursts.

He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as his breathing hitched. "I wanna fuck you.. So fucking badly.." he gasped, his eyes rolling back. His hips bucked, his thighs trembling as he fucked his hand, his grip tightening around himself. He bit down on his bottom lip, his brow furrowing as a strained noise left his throat. "S-Shit.." he hissed, his hand slowing down, the movements becoming more drawn out, the pleasure dragging. "I want you to ride my cock.." he breathed, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "I-I want you to bounce on my dick, fuck yourself on me.. I want to feel you around me.." he gasped, his head tossing back, a low groan escaping his throat. "Fuck, Y/N.. You don't even know how badly I need you.. Oh, fuck.. I-I need to cum, baby.."

The sight was almost enough to have you coming undone right there, a whine catching in the back of your throat. You were dripping wet, your arousal soaking through your underwear, the needy throb between your legs growing unbearable. You shifted slightly, your legs pressed together, trying to gain some relief, any relief. But it only served to further the ache, and you bit back a whimper. His words made your head spin, the desperation in his tone making you weak in the knees. "S-Scara.." you gasped, the name slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Scaramouche stilled, his eyes flying open. His gaze shot towards the door, a look of alarm flashing across his features. You shrunk back, ducking away, praying he wouldn't see you. But the door creaked open, the hinges squealing as the door was shoved aside, and you were forced to stumble forward. "Shit.." you swore, falling into the room. Your cheeks burned, a wave of heat rushing over you, embarrassment making your head spin. You tried to back away, tried to make an escape, but Scaramouche was already on his feet, his hand gripping your arm.

"Enjoying the show?" he smirked, his voice laced with amusement. He yanked you towards him, his hands finding your waist. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, and he pulled you flush against him, a small gasp leaving your lips. You could feel his length against you, hot and heavy, and you shuddered, a soft noise leaving your lips. He grinned, his eyes glittering. "I didn't think you'd be so perverted, Y/N." he purred, his words sending a jolt of electricity through you. His grip tightened, his hold becoming bruising, and you let out a small whimper, your eyelids fluttering.

"I- I didn't mean to! I heard a noise, I- I thought-" you stammered, the words spilling out of your mouth. Scaramouche merely grinned, his gaze darkening. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. He nibbled on your earlobe, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin. You gasped, a shaky moan leaving your lips. "i t-thought you were hurt." you managed to stutter out, your words trailing off into a low whine. You could feel his hardness against your leg, and you shivered, a jolt of heat shooting through you. His lips trailed down your jaw, his mouth brushing against the delicate skin. "Well, I am in pain.." he drawled, his lips curling into a smirk. "You see, there's a very gorgeous girl who won't stop teasing me.." he purred, his hand cupping your cheek. "And now she's in my room.. And I'm so desperate for her.. I can't stand it." he continued, his fingers tilting your chin, forcing you to look at him. "What are we gonna do about that, hm?"

His gaze burned into yours, the look in his eyes making your heart pound. His stare was intense, hungry, dangerous, and you felt your breath catch. You didn't know what to say, how to respond, and the words died on your lips. You wanted him, you wanted him more than anything, and your body trembled, your desire for him overriding your embarrassment. "Y..you could.. Um.." you stammered, your words trailing off, uncertainty clouding your mind. You were suddenly unsure, self-conscious, your shyness getting the better of you. You didn't know how to ask him, how to put it into words, and the nervousness made your stomach twist. Scaramouche raised an eyebrow, an amused expression flashing across his features. "Could what?" he pressed, his fingers stroking your cheek. His touch was gentle, affectionate, and you felt yourself relaxing, your body leaning into his. You swallowed hard, your gaze drifting towards his chest. You were suddenly very aware of the fact that he was naked, and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks. You glanced away, unable to look him in the eye, and he chuckled. "Cat got your tongue?" he teased, his lips quirking up. "Tell me what you want. I promise I won't bite."

"I.. um.. You could.." you faltered. "You..could..f-fuck me?" you managed to choke out, your voice barely a whisper. You didn't know how else to phrase it, and although the words sounded crude, vulgar, your voice was small and hesitant. Your eyes flicked up to his, gauging his reaction. His eyes darkened, a predatory gleam appearing in his gaze. He grinned, his fingers caressing your cheek, and he leaned in close, his mouth pressing against your ear. His voice was husky, a low growl, his words sending a rush of heat down your spine. "I was hoping you'd say that." he purred.

Your breath hitched, and he captured your lips in a searing kiss. You let out a small gasp, your body arching against his, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, his hands roaming over your body. He cupped your breasts through your shirt, erect nipples poking against the thin material. You whimpered, a low moan leaving your lips, and his fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, his hands pushing it up. His fingers danced across your stomach, his hands moving upwards, the fabric of your top riding up. He broke the kiss, pulling back slightly, his eyes raking over your body. "Fuck.." he breathed, his gaze sweeping over you. "You're so fucking beautiful.." he murmured, his eyes darkening. He pulled your shirt over your head, discarding it to the floor. His hands roamed over your body, his touch sending a rush of heat through you. You gasped, a moan escaping your lips as he palmed your breast, his fingers tweaking a sensitive nipple. "So perfect.." he hummed, his mouth finding your neck. He sucked on the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing over the area, marking the skin with little bites. His fingers trailed downwards, his hands hooking around the waistband of your shorts. He tugged them down, the fabric pooling around your ankles, and he pushed you back onto the bed.

You fell back onto the mattress, your head hitting the pillows. Your hair fanned out beneath you, the strands tousled and messy, and he stared down at you, his gaze roving over your figure. "So fucking pretty.." he breathed, his hands moving to his member. He stroked himself slowly, his fingers wrapping around his length, a low groan escaping his lips. You bit back a whine, the sight making your core clench, and you squirmed, a dull throb growing between your legs. He pumped himself slowly, his fist moving up and down his shaft, his movements measured, controlled. "You want me?" he asked, his voice low.

"I want you.." you breathed, a warm buzz tingling through your body, making your head spin. He grinned, his hand coming down to rest on your thigh. He gripped your leg, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and he pushed it back, exposing you to him. Your cheeks flushed, the cool air hitting your slick center, and you whimpered, a shiver running down your spine. You were sopping wet, arousal coating your inner thighs, and he grinned, licking a fat stripe up the slit of your core. "Awh, this all for me? How sweet." he hummed, his eyes glinting. He pressed his face against your sex, his tongue parting the swollen lips. You gasped, a shudder wracking your frame as he licked up the length of your cunt. His cock strained against the bed sheets, leaking precum onto the comforter, and he groaned, his tongue delving into your hole and exploring the velvet heat. His hands held you in place, his fingers gripping your thighs as he ate you out, his tongue darting out to taste every inch of your core. His mouth closed around your clit, suckling on the bud, and you cried out, a loud moan leaving your lips. "O-Oh..!" you squealed, the sudden rush of pleasure sending a wave of heat through your veins. He pulled back, his tongue flicking out, teasing the sensitive nub. "You like that?" he smirked, his eyes darkening. He licked at your center, the flat of his tongue stroking your aching cunt. You let out a whine, the noises spilling from your lips making his dick twitch. "Bet you'll love my cock even more." he laughed, his hands gripping your hips.

He flipped you over, pulling your hips up and positioning you on all fours. Your arms buckled, your upper body sinking down, your face pressed into the pillows. Your ass was on display, your sex glistening, the sight making his length throb. He positioned himself behind you, his hand reaching down to grip the base of his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, his tip brushing against your slit, the anticipation making your head spin. The head of his member nudged at your core, and he slowly began to slide in, the thick length stretching you open. Your mouth dropped open, a moan falling from your lips, the sound muffled by the pillow. His length was hot, searing, and you could feel every inch of him, every vein, every ridge. It was like your body was made for him, your walls molding around him, accommodating him perfectly. "Mmmh.. yes.." he groaned, his hips meeting the swell of your ass. He bottomed out, his tip kissing the entrance to your cervix, the stretch making your eyes roll back. He gave you a moment to adjust, his hands finding your hips. He rubbed soothing circles into the skin, his thumbs pressing into the flesh. "You're squeezing me so tight.. such a slutty cunt.." his hips rolled as he spoke, drawing back slightly before thrusting forward, pumping your gummy pussy full of his cock. He pulled out until just the tip remained, the head catching on your rim, before snapping his hips, burying himself deep inside of you.

His member speared into you, his thickness spreading you wide open, a string of screams and moans falling from your lips. He started a brutal pace, his length pistoning in and out of your needy cunt. "Ah! Ahn.. Aah..s' much..!" you wailed, your face buried into the pillows. The noises were drawn out, your words slurred and garbled. The feeling of him splitting you open, stuffing you full of his length, was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, and you were unable to control yourself. "Mm, You loved teasing me, didnt you? Is this what you wanted all along? For me to break and fuck you just like this?" he panted, his hand coming down to grip your hair. He yanked your head back, forcing you to arch your spine, your body contorting to accommodate his demands. His free hand reached around, his fingers rubbing slow circles into your clit. "Yes! Yes, s' what I wanted!" you sobbed, a wave of pleasure washing over you. His fingers moved in a tight circle, the pressure making you cry out. "Please, please, please! Don't stop..!" you gasped, your walls clenching around his length. Your walls fluttered around him, the pressure mounting, and he groaned, his cock twitching.

"That's it.." he breathed, his hips stuttering. His movements were erratic, his thrusts becoming messy and uneven, the pleasure clouding his mind. "Scream for me.." he hissed, his nails digging into your hip. You were teetering on the edge, the knot in your stomach tightening, your orgasm fast approaching. "Let me hear you.." his voice came out in breathless grunts, his words punctuated by a particularly hard thrust, his fingers escaping your clit and gripping the front of your throat. His hand wrapped around the column of your neck, applying the slightest bit of pressure, and that was all it took. You came undone, a loud cry tearing from your lips, the noise ending in a choked whimper as he squeezed your throat. You screamed, his name leaving your mouth over and over again, a mantra of moans and pleads and whimpers. Your eyes rolled back, white stars bursting across your vision, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. "Cummmingg!! Mmhh, fffu-u-uu-uhh..S-sca-ra!! Ahn.." you moaned, the pleasure so intense that you couldn't think, couldn't form a coherent sentence. Your words trailed off, the sounds turning into incoherent babbles and gibberish. You trembled, your legs shaking, the strength seeping out of your body as you rode out your high. You squeezed around him, the walls of your cunt pulling him in deeper, milking him for everything he had. He let out a grunt, expletives tumbling from his mouth. "F-Fuck.." he hissed, his cock twitching. "Oh, fuck, fuck.. I'm gonna.. I'm cumming.." he groaned, his grip tightening around your neck. "Gonna- Fill.. you up-! Fuck- fuck, feel my cum.. fill up that tight little cunt." he moaned, his hips stuttering, his cock jerking inside of you. You felt his load shooting into you, hot and thick, and you sobbed, the feeling pushing you into another orgasm. You could feel him filling you up, the sensation making you lightheaded, your mind going fuzzy. You could feel his cum dripping out of you, sliding down the inside of your thighs, and the feeling only served to make you clench harder. Your eyes fluttered shut, your body going limp as you came down from your high, the saliva running down your chin soaking into the pillow.

You panted, gasping for breath, the room spinning. Scaramouche pulled out, his hand trailing down to your dripping center. His fingers dipped into the mess, the digits scooping up the excess, before spreading the substance across your swollen cunt.

"Y/N, Y/N.." he tutted, his tone patronizing. "Look what a mess you made." he cooed, his voice mocking. "My poor princess, all fucked out at drooling on the bed." He chuckled, a sadistic grin twisting his lips. "You should've known i couldn't have let you get away with teasing me like that.." he hummed, his voice dangerously low. "We're going to have a lot of fun tonight, baby."

[atarathegreat]

No Nut November Tokyo Revengers

Ft: Manjiro Sano, Ken Ryuguji, Keisuke Baji, Takashi Mitsuya, Kazutora Hanemiya, Haruki Hayashida

Mikey is the only one that wins. It was stupid but you were having fun teasing Mikey. It was too easy when he refused to give in and just bury his cock as deep as he can. Walking around the house naked, showering with him, sleeping in nothing but your little underwear. Even if he was taking part in the silly little challenge (because he can't stand to let anyone beat him at anything, least of all Baji), you weren't. It was torturous to hear your sweet little sounds with his hand knuckle deep in your heat. His eyes were on the clock, his ears trained to hear only you. The absolute second that the clock hit 12:00am, he pulled his hand free and kissed your thigh. "Mikey!" You whined, having been so, so close to that edge you wanted. "It's December, babydoll." He crawled up, expertly slipping from his shorts and kicking them off the bed, "Tell me I can. Say it. Say the words." A little head nod and whine was the least he would accept, but he would accept it. In seconds Mikey was bottomed out, a whimper getting clipped as he bit his lips together. "Never again. I'm never going without this again." Mikey planted his hands on either side of your head, "Wrap around me, babydoll, I'm going as deep as your pretty pussy will let me."

He's failed. Day three and he knows he failed because Draken can't help but fill you with his seed. Fucking you with anything but his dick, for him, is an insult to you. But the second he's balls deep, he knows he won't be able to stop before he cums. Seeing you fucked out, dripping with the mess he can leave as deep as he wants, that was his reward for the fun. "Kenny! Kenny, your-" "Fuck it." Draken hissed as he dug his fingers into your hips, "Keep fuckin' bouncin', precious. Make a fuckin' mess."

Baji has to admit it to Mikey. He couldn't make it the whole month. Halfway through you were feeling empty, and Baji refused to budge. Until you got shirtless and sat in his lap with that sweet pout. "Don't do that, baby, you know I hate when you're upset." Baji mumbled, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "Then stop telling me no over some dumb game!" The sound of you whining at him was one he only liked when you were begging him to stop using you. "Don't whine." He pulled your hair back, nipping at your neck, "You know what it does." More whining, more pouting, more tantrums. Again and again and again. Until he was pressing more of those special little sounds out of your mouth as you tried to be quiet. "Oh, now we wanna hush?" Baji gripped your chin, "Let the upstairs neighbors hear ya', baby."

Unlike his friends, Mitsuya isn't too invested in the whole charade. If you two don't have sex, so be it. If you do, amazing. Either way, he'll be happy. But when you came into his home office and sat down angrily on the little couch, he couldn't help but inquire. "This whole stupid month and your stupid friends!" You huffed. Mitsuya can't help but laugh at the pissy way you spoke. You knew you could have him whenever you wanted, within reason, of course. "C'mere, darling." Mitsuya tucked the fabric on his table into the drawer, patting the desktop with a hefty hand, "Sit." He loves the way you do what he says so quickly. It takes one hand, one move, to pull his belt from its place around his waist, "Hands out, darling. Girls who throw fits don't get to touch."

Kazutora didn't even make it a few hours. The morning sun woke up and he couldn't ignore the pain in his groin. He rolled over and reached down to pull your waist closer to him and tuck your panties to the side. "Pretty girl, pretty girl." He groaned as he fit his cock between your legs and easily rocked into you, "Fuck yes, my pretty girl. Speak to me." He'd already failed, so why not spend the day with you in bed?

Haruki "There was a challenge?" Hayashida. He doesn't give a fuck. Doesn't even attempt to keep his cock in his pants. Caveman brain to the max, I'm talking: Food, water, fight, fuck. Nothing else. Pah has you on the couch, in the recliner, over the counter, anywhere that he can get you naked. The way you touch his scars as he fucks you through another orgasm, teary eyes and kisses as you hold him, "So handsome, Pah. So, so handsome." The way this man would kill for your compliments is FOUL. But he'll settle for bullying his cock deeper in your stomach.

[toji-girl]

come back to me - 2 | pro-hero! k. bakugo

tags: fem reader + you two are divorced and parents + angst + repost

part one | part three | part four

You sat across from your children and ex-husband, who couldn't stop staring at you any time you smiled and laughed. His heart twisted in his chest, knowing his ring was still in his nightstand.

It felt right to have you here back in your shared home with them. Watching your children giggle and play around, everything fell into place, even though they were shards of broken glass.

Aya and Kouki were quick to eat, wanting to spend time with their mom and dad. It was a rare occasion that you two stayed in the same room long enough, too many painful memories shared.

They both helped you wash dishes idily chatting about Katsuki's new girlfriend. However, your children reminded you that they love you to the moon and back and that you're their mom and no one else is.

All the while, Katsuki hung out in the background for a moment before he stepped out of the kitchen. "I'm glad you two are happy, my babies." You gushed giving them both big hugs when the dishes were done.

"I'm not a baby!" Aya replied with a stern look reminding you so much of her father, down to the very same crease between the eyebrows.

Katsuki clicked his tongue and ushered them upstairs when he came back into the kitchen. "Don't get an attitude with your mother, wash up and change. We'll be upstairs to read you a story." He told them while you watched them disappear.

A moment later, you stood face to face with your ex-husband. The tension so thick, covering you two like a blanket. "It won't be long. I think I have some of your clothes if you want to change." It was he who broke the ice first, his voice gruff as he looked back at you.

Now it was up to you to continue chipping at it, ask for his shirt perhaps, but you declined politely and quickly scurried upstairs wondering why he still had your clothes and which ones.

The idea of another woman taking care of him and wearing his shirts made you want to crawl out of your skin, and you knew you royally messed up by divorcing him, but the pain was far too great to repair.

Always you had supported him during every obstacle he had to face in his career, always accepted that you'd come second in a way.

And with your children that was unacceptable, but you understood how important his job was to him and never held that against him, his job was a huge one being the number two pro-hero in the country.

It all boiled down to him not spending enough time with the three of you when he came home and it felt like you were a single but married mom and it weighed too much on you like a heavy wet blanket.

But you could still feel the passion and the pull toward him, the undeniable chemistry sizzled, however, you pushed the thought away and focused on taking care of your children and going to sleep.

"You sleep well, ok? Me and your daddy love you very much." You told Aya with a gentle tone as you tucked her in with a kiss on the head.

Her red eyes bounced between you and Katsuki. "Can you please move back in? I hate having two homes." Her voice wavered as she fought back tears staring at you.

Your heart cracked even more as you listened to her tiny pleas. "We can be a happy family again." This time it was Kouki who spoke from beside you as he sat on his sister's mattress with his on the top bunk.

Even though there were plenty of rooms Aya and Kouki wanted to share one so he could protect his little sister if needed.

"We are still a happy family, I promise maybe we can sort something out. I know you two love it here, so how about this? I move closer while you two can stay here with your dad." You murmured looking at them.

The idea of leaving your children behind made you feel even lower than you already were, hitting rock bottom is no fun. "Hinata is really nice but she's not our you, our mom," Aya said out loud with a pout.

Katsuki sighed heavily from the doorway that he leaned against unsure how to approach the topic because if you even suggest you coming back he'd call his girlfriend right now to end things.

You looked back at him hoping for some help as you took hold of Aya's hand. "I know baby girl, you have the best mom ever and we'll get something sorted out." He assured her in a soft tone.

After multiple snuggles and kisses you and Katsuki left the room in silence. "I'll grab some blankets and a pillow then I'll take the couch."

While you spoke you couldn't look at him and you didn't waste any time going back downstairs to do so and settle on your bed.

Thoughts of talking to him about fixing the marriage crossed your mind every second you lay on the soft cushions, but he's in a relationship and you aren't a homewrecker.

It was obvious after an hour Katsuki had finally moved on seeing that he didn't come downstairs as you listened to the rain patter outside but sleep wasn't coming tonight.

How could it? Your chest caved in and tears ran down your face. The physical pain manifested in your chest before blooming into your belly leaving an open wound bleeding and raw.

You sniffled and sat up, keeping the blanket tucked into your chest. Maybe taking the couch was a bad idea, you should've driven home anyway nowhere in the house was safe from memories.

Another sob racked your body, everything poured from your eyes and nose until you heard a soft grunt and felt the cushion dip. "I could hear you all the way upstairs." Katsuki murmured and sat down.

He handed you some tissues, unsure what to do. This was new territory. You two aren't married anymore so it felt strange to say and he wasn't sure if you wanted his comfort, but he wanted to offer it.

From going to knowing each other for so long, dating, being each others first for everything, marriage and two kids, now it crumbled.

"Thanks, I'm sorry. This is why I wanted to go home, the kids - we can't give them that. We tried and now you've moved on." You sighed.

It was like word vomit that spewed from your mouth, a rushed sentence tangled together. All that made sound was your heavy breathing and the soft rainfall hushed by the roof.

Katsuki leaned his head back and looked at you. "We can give them that, move in with us." He told you seriously, his red eyes glazed over.

You couldn't help but burst out into laughter, making him watch you harder wondering if you cracked. "That would be confusing and what about Hinata?" You asked unable to hide the jealousy in the undertone of your voice.

Katsuki couldn't help the soft smug grin that tugged his lips back hearing you. "Jealous of her? And the kids will be happy to have their parents back under the same roof, the back and forth is no good."

You still didn't look at him, not that you really could. "Not back together...but I think we can arrange that, I'll take the guest room."

"You didn't answer my question." His gaze held the weight of the world and the burn of the world's largest fire pit as you shook your head.

He cackled and threw his head back. "You are. Why? You wanted this." He mentioned the space between you two with his free hand.

You rolled your eyes, feeling irritation set in now. "Yes, because I was a single mom with a ring on my finger. I took care of everything while you lived your dream." You shot back.

"Here we go," He huffed and put his hands on his knees, standing up. "I'm going to bed. We can tell the kids in the morning about it all."

Katsuki disappeared upstairs, and you wanted nothing more than to pull him down and kiss him senseless and maybe headbutt him.

The feelings you felt in the moment were confusing but one thing you knew for certain, you still and always will love him no matter what.

[tizzyizzy]

Seen some talk around the interwebs about how Izzy is a totally different, or his arc happened too fast, whatever. He is my argument to the contrary.

There are three major factors driving the change in Izzy's behavior.

Default Pirate Culture → Gentleman Pirate Culture

Izzy spent his entire pirate career before Stede acting like, well, a pirate. There wasn't room for softness. Being tough was expected. Blackbeard's crew's culture in particular discouraged weakness to such an extent crew were expected to kill their pets before joining.

In S1, Izzy's relationship to the crews and captains was ambiguous. Was he training the Revenge crew to be proper pirates? Was he in charge when the captains weren't on board? Was Ed planning on killing Stede and everyone aboard, or not? So it's unsurprising Izzy held himself away from Stede's crew instead of becoming part of it, and tried without success to make the Revenge crew follow his lead.

In S2, Izzy ends up in Stede's crew, and Izzy isn't in a place emotionally or socially to try to push to change the culture of the ship. He's outnumbered. Izzy has to adapt. At the very least, all of the expectations he has been living up to his entire pirating career are gone.

Taking Care of Ed → No More Ed

Izzy said he'd been cleaning up Ed's messes his whole life. Scenes from S1 and S2 suggest that is the case. In S1, Izzy is dealing with Ed making strange choices on his search for meaning, which requires him to manage restless crew members and deal with the risky spots Ed puts them all in. Once Stede arrives on the scene, Ed is contradictory and non-communitive, leaving Izzy to wonder if the plan to kill Stede and the promised captaincy were bullshit (they were).

And because Izzy has no emotional intelligence, he thinks that Stede is seducing Ed into losing everything, and he desperately tries to pry the pair ppart.

I mean, we all know what happened in the early S2 episodes. Emotional, off-the-rails Ed trying to himself and everyone else while Izzy desperately tried to protect Ed and the crew, until he was forced to give up on Ed.

After breaking up with Ed via bullet, though, Ed is officially Not Izzy's Problem. Ed isn't a threat to the crew. Stede is incompetent, but was clever and brave enough to escape Zheng's ship and rescue them. Izzy is free to have a drunken breakdown. After, well, he gets to do whatever he wants.

What does Izzy want? Well, he's finding out.

No Trust → Trust

The major reason pirates put on such a tough facade is to protect themselves. Being tough keeps enemies from messing with you. It keeps your crew too afraid to mutiny. It's easy to recognize that Ed puts on a persona of Blackbeard, but Izzy put on a persona too. A weak link can be targeted and broken.

Just look at the scene where Izzy finally breaks down and is comforted by the crew. Izzy doesn't make the choice to be emotionally vulnerable. He is behaving the same way he always with crew who question his orders. He yells, he curses, he commands. It is only the level of his emotional distress and the crew's acknowledgement of it that make him incapable of hiding his pain.

I think it's safe to say that has been hiding grief, frustration, confusion, sadness, etc. behind the "Get back to work!" facade for years. It only crumbled under extreme pressure.

But when Izzy breaks, and is at his most pathetic and vulnerable, the crew have his back. Under Blackbeard, they comfort him, hide him away, and treat his injuries at the risk of the captain's wrath. Under Stede, when he's at his most pathetic, the crew make him a new leg and accept him into the crew without judgement.

There's almost nothing Izzy could do in front of the crew now that would make him look more weak than he was when he was crawling across the floor drunk and repeating "You're born alone, you die alone" over and over. He hit rock bottom and there was a pillow there to catch him.

So, Izzy is in the "talk it through" culture of Stede's Revenge. He is free from obsessing about Ed as a man and as a captain. He is surrounded by people who saw him at his worst and showed him compassion.

Izzy's worst behaviors in S1 were motivated by fear. Fear of the new, fear Ed was losing it, fear of what would happen if he showed weakness. In a "safe space", where he has nothing to worry about? Of course Izzy calms way down. This is the Izzy that swaggered up to Stede on the island and at Spanish Jackie's in S1. Dry, sarcastic, sassy. Some flair for the dramatic with the swordplay.

It is because Izzy feels so safe that he can put on that makeup and perform. Wee John is doing it, and Wee John wouldn't let him do anything embarrassing. He's clearly got confidence in his ability to sing.

He's still Izzy. He says fuck constantly. He's kind of a dick. He offers good advice. He's a dramatic, whether he's cutting his name into someone's shirt or singing in French from a balcony. He's just an Izzy that can be whatever he wants without fear.

[rafescurtainbangz]

Can we get a dark jj too

Of course!!

I'd say this is darkish!JJ at best

+18 minor dni

700 words

Smut, language, pet names, jj is kinda wild with the gun, his girlfriend helps him Christen the gun, unprotected p in v

Read with caution

♡Lightly edited

Dark!JJ whose...

A little too excited about his new gun. He moves around his room stealthily, aiming at invisible bad guys as you read your book. “Don't you think it's a little much, Jayj? Do you really need a gun?” You ask wearily.

“‘Course I do, princess.” He gives you a smirk, cigarette dangling from his lips; nothing but some white boxers on his tanned body.

“Why though?”

“Protection, doll. Think of it like a condom. Yeah? Ya keep it in your pocket, just in case. Wouldn't wanna risk not having one of those. Same shit,” he chuckles raspily; twirling the gun around his finger.

“Is it loaded?” You whisper.

“Nah… Used all the bullets up this afternoon.”

“Doing what, JJ?”

“Shootin’ stuff.”

“Like…”

“Cans, mom. I was shooting cans with Pope, alright? What are you so worried about?” He chuckles as he saunters your way, ashing his cigarette out on your metal bed frame. He turns his hat backward as he leans in a little closer, giving you a sweet kiss. “I know what you're gonna say-”

“You, Jayj. M’worried about you. Why would you all of a sudden need a gun?”

“I’ve always needed a gun,” he mumbles. “And, could you stop bringin’ down the room? It's fine. It's fine. Alright? Nothin’ to worry about. Papa J is safe. Even safer now. One regret, though… One big ole regret. Never got to christen this thing.”

“Christen your gun… How do you do that?” You ask, apprehensively.

“With good pussy,” he chuckles; his response making your heart race as you puzzle together what he wants to do with your help.

“It's not loaded… Like - Are you sure?” You ask, weakly; feeling a steady pulse between your thighs, terrified but excited all at the same breath.

“You don't trust me?” He gives you a crooked smile; lifting the gun up to his head, pulling the trigger. You hear the clinking of metal on metal making you gasp. “So… We good? You gonna help me, sweetheart?”

“Yeah-” He pushes you back on the mattress, flipping your skirt before you can change your mind. JJ loops his fingers around the string of your panties; tugging them away.

You feel the chill of the metal against your warm skin as JJ traces the gun higher and higher. Goosebumps spread across your body as he reaches your inner thigh; making you draw in slightly. “Relax, sweetness. You're safe. Alright?” He mumbles as he crawls a little closer.

“Fuckkk,” he moans as the gun hits your slick, gliding through your folds. He plays a little more, collecting your essence on the muzzle. JJ swirls the tip gently on your clit, watching as you whimper and moan below him. Your eyes widen as he moves lower, assuming what’s to come. “Uh - Jayj? I… Um,” you stammer as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“My cock’s bigger,” he rasps; giving you a little wink before pressing it inside, making you toss your head back.

“Shit, JJ,” you gasp.

“My girl likes it. Huh?”

He lowers himself to your lips as he strokes nice and slow. Your tongue greets his; reeling as he swallows moan after moan.

You feel him draw it out completely, eyeing the weapon glazed with your wetness. “Beautiful,” he groans. “For you.” He extends it your way, your hand trembles as you take it off his. JJ rolls to his back, working his boxers off his hips, tossing them to the side. “Co’mere, darlin’,” he croons.

You hover over his rock-hard cock, gun clasped in your other hand. “Now what, Jayj?” You smile. He clasps your hips, lowering you slowly down on his length until you’re fully sat.

“Look at you,” he praises. His baby blues brimming with lust. “Fuck. You look good.” JJ’s hands rest on the fullness of your hips, looking at you hungrily as his tongue glides along his bottom lip. “Let me taste it.”

“Jayj…”

“C’mon,” his lips part ever so slightly.

The gun passing his lips. JJ sucks off your slick; eyes rolling back as a deep moan rumbles in his chest. His eyes flutter shut, sucking all the way back to the tip. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he groans as you rest the piece down on the comforter. He smacks your ass roughly, soothing the sting with his heavy hands as he grips your ass. “That's how it's done, baby.”

JJ reaches up, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, towing you close. “How'd that feel?” He whispers as his lips graze yours slowly.

“Good,” you giggle breathily; still riding an indescribable high. You start to wind your hips, grinding on his cock as he smiles against your lips.

“Just another reason I needed that gun, Princess.”

[everythingelseisextra]

Petty Criminal

Part 3: Treasure the Memory

Part 5: Give Yourself A Reason

Description: A peaceful trail ride deteriorates into an interrogation. Warnings: Language, Brief mention of sexual assault Word Count: 2755 Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @ttaechi @weaponizedvirtue @majesticcmey @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

“You alright?” 

“Fine.”

Dark-shadowed, glassy blue eyes stare into yours. Dawn air blows between you, light and cool, but something about the way he looks at you, the way he stands, the way his head is bowed slightly and he stares up at you through his eyelashes, tells you that the morning breeze isn’t refreshing to him. Your jaw tightens. This is a mistake. You’ve invited someone you barely know to ride with you, without acknowledging that maybe he doesn’t want to do this. There’s a small seed of doubt growing in your stomach, branching up towards your throat, and, if this goes badly, it’ll strangle you. 

You gesture to the barn. “Draco and the horse I’ll be riding are tacked up already. We’ll just grab them and go. I’m assuming you have experience riding…”

He nods and starts for the barn, leaving you to trail after him. Before you’re fully prepared for it, you’re both on horseback, heading out the other side of the barn into the countryside. For miles, all you can see is gray-green, an ocean of hills and valleys and harshly-cut paths that crawl through the small mountains like snakes. You glance over at Thomas, the way he sits on the horse, the way he holds the reins. His hips move softly with the movement, his hands give and take gently. Draco’s neck is arched, but his head isn’t pulled to his chest. 

“You have soft hands,” you say quietly. 

“He’s sensitive.” He nods to Draco. “Don’t need hard hands on him.”

You nod. Thomas has been riding your horse for mere minutes, and has already picked up on his personality, his needs, and is adjusting himself accordingly. You’re impressed, and, honestly, relieved. Draco needs a quiet rider, and you weren’t sure Thomas would be one. 

You walk in silence for a while, the wind blowing between you. Your horse, a paint thoroughbred you call Nifty, chews on the bit. Goose pimples raise on your arms as you start to climb a hill, twisting and turning up the trail, horses breathing hard. 

“Used to do this as a kid,” Thomas says, breaking the slow silence. “Race up the hills. Explore bloody dangerous paths.”

“We can do some of that, if you like.” You smile faintly. “Just let them get warmed up first.”

He shakes his head. “Won’t be the same.”

“Of course it won’t.” You squeeze your horse’s sides with your legs, cueing him into a faster walk. “But it’s still worth it if you can— I don’t know— maybe have some fun? Why else would we have horses? Draco’s fast. Powerful.”

Thomas stays quiet, head inclined, cap low over his eyes. 

“Come on. It couldn’t hurt.” 

“Guess not.” 

Grass and bits of dried grain whistle and rattle together around you. The ears of your horses flick forward, then back to you, then to the sides, always watchful, almost paranoid. Metal shoes on their hooves hit rocks on the path and clang. A salty, fresh scent travels along on the wind, and you breathe deep. 

“There’s a left turn up here.” You hold your reins in one hand and point with the other, your fingers tracing a ridge up ahead. “And then it’s straight up the side of the mountain.”

His tired eyes follow your hand to the brown pathway ahead of you, and when he speaks, there’s a hint of life to the words, like the sunlight and wind has brought him, at least a little, out of that fatigued state. “That’s where we race, eh?”

“Yep.” You smile. “I’ll win.”

“Don’t be so sure.” His low voice barely carries over the wind. You find yourself focusing on his lips to read his words. 

“If you fall off, I’m not liable.”

This coaxes a chuckle from him. “I won’t fall.”

You reach the bottom of the hill. You turn your head to start a countdown, but before you open your mouth, Thomas’ heels are on Draco’s sides, and they’re shooting off at a full sprint. 

A racehorse at full speed is a thing to behold. Muscles flexing, blood pumping, legs a blur of movement. The clatter of clashing hooves and the flash of mane and tail. Thoroughbreds are freaks of nature, so athletic they have a habit of severing their own bones from the motion. Draco’s fiery body blazes in front of you, Thomas up and out of his seat, heels down and hands forward, giving the horse his head. Hot on his tail, Nifty’s body pushed to its limits in speed, you grab mane and take a moment to admire.

Thomas moves naturally with the animal, as if born in the saddle, his cheeks flushed with the cold air, hair pushed back out of his face. And, you can barely believe it, a smile is on his lips. Because he’s winning. 

And you’re letting him, because you want more of that smile, more of those flushed cheeks, more of the exhilaration on his face. 

You reach the precipice of the hill, and you sit back to slow your horse, giving him silent cues with your reins and body. Thomas does the same, but his hands grip at the reins, yanking back to his hips, and Draco prances, glistening red coat gleaming. Nifty comes quietly to a walk, but Thomas doesn’t let go. He gives no release when the horse listens to him.

Before you have the time to say something, Draco is rearing, front legs lifting into the air, head tossing wildly to try to relieve himself of the pressure in his mouth. 

“Your hands!” You call, trying to get through to Thomas. It’s hard to listen to someone when an animal five times your size is reacting in a way you don’t understand. “Put your hands forward!”

Instead, Thomas pulls on one side of the horse’s mouth, forcing him back to the ground, but the next second, he’s back up, rearing so high that terror hits you hard. Horses can flip over on themselves when rearing, crushing the rider underneath them. 

“Thomas!” You yell. “Let go!”

This time he hears you. His hands go forward, his fingers lace themselves in Draco’s mane, and he clings there in midair, waiting. Draco takes two steps forward on his hind legs, then comes crashing back down to the ground, head thrown forward. He prances, snorting, moving back and forth in place. 

“Relax.” You soften your voice, moving Nifty closer to the panicking horse and rider. “I know it seems counter-intuitive, but you’ve gotta let go. Relax, Tommy. Relax.”

“Can’t fucking relax when he’s—”

“Your legs are on his sides, Thomas. He’s reacting to you.” All you can do is explain, try to teach. “Relax your legs and loosen your reins.”

His jaw tightens, then, slowly, you watch his legs release from Draco’s sides, watch his hands move forward once more. Draco’s wild eyes soften and his constant movement hesitantly comes to an end. 

“He’s claustrophobic.” You find that your breath, as well as Tommy’s, is short, as though you just rode an intense bout of rearing, instead of him. “He gets scared when he feels trapped. Jockeys will yank a horse’s face until they slow down, he’s used to being hurt. He just got scared. I’m so sorry, he just got scared.”

“Fuck.” Tommy’s voice comes surprisingly weak, his head bowed, chest heaving. “Fuck.”

“Jesus. Are you okay?” You move Nifty closer, trying to get a decent look at his face. 

“Don’t.” He turns his head away from you, hiding. There is shame in being seen, in any form, in any moment, but especially when you’re hurting. Especially when a stranger doesn’t know how to help, and those you know don’t know how to help, and you don’t know how to help yourself.

Your heart jumps to your throat and you swallow hard. Before you realize what you’re doing, you’ve slipped off the back of your horse, and you approach him, on the opposite side of where he’s facing. He deserves privacy, or what little you can give him. 

You reach up and gently unravel his fingers from the reins. Holding Draco in one hand and Nifty in the other, you lead both horses towards softer ground. You’re now on the smallest hill, surrounded by larger ones. Above you, the sky is deliriously blue, and a cold wind whistles around you. 

“I’m going to lay Draco down.” You let go of Nifty’s reins and allow him to ground-tie. “You’re going to get off, and we’re going to walk.”

Silence in response. You glance up and catch a glimpse of hazy blue eyes, looking off towards the shadow of the mountains around you.

With some trepidation, you tap on Draco’s belly, and the horse lowers himself to the ground, folding his long, sweaty legs underneath him. Tommy steps off immediately, and Draco, as if knowing instinctively, reaches his nose out to gently nuzzle his arm. 

“He’s sorry,” you murmur. “Let’s walk.”

It can help, you think, to move. To literally move away from fear, head towards the horizon, give yourself something to do other than sit in the terror. You start off, and anxiety pulses through you, inflating your lungs like a balloon so no more breath can seem to fit inside of them. You breathe anyway. Only one person can panic at a time. It was Draco’s turn, now it’s Tommy’s, not yours

Out of instinct, or maybe even out of fear, you start to speak. “I’m sorry, Thomas. I’m sorry he freaked out on you. He should be over that by now. Some things just stick with us, I think. I’m… sort of impressed, though. Most men I know would punish a horse who acted up like that. Most men I know would beat a horse just for stepping out of line.”

Tommy stays quiet. His head tilts towards you, his lips part slightly, like he wants to speak, then close, like he thought better of it. The two horses follow placidly behind you, and you walk along the ridge of the hill, a cliff dropping off into the rising sun on one side of you. Silhouetted by the burning light, he looks more delicate, as if made of porcelain and blue zircon. 

“I still say you’re not scary,” you say quietly. “I still say so.”

“Did some asking around.” His voice comes hoarse, as if he’d spent hours in silence, not just minutes. “You came from Paris; you were born in America. Word is, you didn’t leave either by choice.” 

Your turn to stay silent, to look away. One of the horses snorts behind you and you flinch. Your muscles tense and you reach up to rub your eye, the motion an attempt to brush off the anxiety.

“You don’t know my name. How did you ask around?” The leather reins gathered in your hand grow slippery with your palms sweating. “No one knows who I am in Birmingham.”

Thomas glances at you, then returns to staring ahead, eyes brooding. “I have friends outside of Birmingham. I have friends in the police force. You have a record.”

You stop short. “You saw my record?”

“You’re a fucking petty criminal.” He nods vaguely, a faint smile on his lips. “My guess is, you—”

“No. I don’t want to hear the story you’ve assumed explains my past.” You shake your head. Your heart pounds, your arms wrap around yourself. You want to drop the horses, turn, and run, get away from this man who knows too much, who has concocted some wild tale to explain a past you want nothing more than to forget. 

“Tell me, then.” He crosses his arms, turns towards you. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re alone in the middle of nowhere with a man who claims to do very bad things. You’re suddenly very aware that, as strong as you are, as wiry as your muscles, you’re at a disadvantage to someone who’s a fighter and knows it. One of his eyebrows raises. 

“Why do I owe you an explanation?” You step back, and Nifty’s muzzle touches your shoulder, nibbling at your shirt. You reach back absently to stroke his nose. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t deserve this shit from you. What, because my horse scared you, you have to get back at me?”

“Because,” he says slowly. “Nothing goes on in this city without me knowing about it.”

“I don’t live in your city!” Draco steps forward, responding to your raised voice, tail swishing. “Whatever deal you have going on with Birmingham, I want no part of. I’m just— fuck, Thomas, this was supposed to be relaxing!”

“No. You’re not part of that.” His eyes stay steady on you, cool and collected and infuriatingly blue. “I need to know who it is I’m chasing after.”

“Who it is you’re—” You take a gasping breath, leaning your head back to look up at the gray-blue sky. “So, you need to know because you have trust issues.”

“I need to know, because the business I run is important, and I can’t have someone—” He steps forward, inclining his head to look you in the eyes. “I can’t have someone get caught up in the wrong side of things.”

“What are you talking about?” You move towards him, leaving just a few inches between the two of you. “Do you think I can’t see for myself what’s going on?”

His lips part. You can see every detail of his face, every tiny freckle, every scar, every kaleidoscope pattern of his eyes. There’s a moment of silence, your eyes locked together. You can feel his breath on your face, feel the warmth coming from him. His eyes flick down. 

You look away. “Fine. I’ll tell you some.”

He releases a breath and steps away. 

“My mother was assaulted and got pregnant with me through that. As soon as I was old enough, she sent me away to boarding school in France. I never went back. All the ‘petty crimes’ you saw were me trying not to starve or freeze or die of dehydration or exposure. So, you happy? Do you feel better now?” Your lip quivers and you clench your jaw, trying to chase away the lump in your throat. There’s more to it than that. There’s so much more to it. 

But, if he gets too close, and he sees the story you run from, sees all the versions of yourself that you murdered to become who you are, then you’ll never get another do-over. You’ll never get another chance. You will never be who he hopes you are.

“How did you—”

“Get the horses?” You complete his sentence for him, too wired to wait for him to finish. “Draco was my first. Given to me by someone who couldn’t handle rehabbing him. I was supposed to sell him and never did. People realized I was good at it and started giving me their rejects to rehab. I realized I could make some money off of it. Never looked back.” 

He nods slowly. “I was wrong.”

“Yeah. People usually are about me.” You glance back at the horses. “Should’ve just let you tell me who I am and agreed to it.”

“You’re not that kind of girl.” He smiles faintly, reaches out for Draco’s reins. “If you’re lying, I’ll know.”

“Alright, Thomas.” You sigh. “Alright.”

“You have horses.” He pulls Draco over to him with the reins, flips them over the horse’s head, and walks over to tighten the girth and ground-mount. “I have work.”

“Yeah,” you say, heart sinking slightly. You walk over to Nifty and climb back onto his back. Thomas does the same with Draco. 

Part of you, the part that keeps you up at night with dreams of grandeur and friendship and love, wants to tell him. Wants to split your skull open and let him look into the crack, ask if he, like you, hates what he sees. You want someone to tell you, for once in your life, that you’re okay, that they accept you, that it’s alright to be who you are. 

After you get back, Tommy dismounts, leaving you with both horses to untack and wash. He gives you a polite goodbye, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than typical, and you watch him drive away. Once again, you wish he’d turn back. And, once again, all that’s left of him is dust. 

It isn’t until hours later that you realize you still have his coat. 

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

Catch Basin | J.M.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: Crawling through the sewer to find a murder weapon should be pretty straightforward right? Definitely not life threatening.

A/N: This is kinda short but I hope you enjoy! I couldn’t find a good gif of this scene which I’m sad about

As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.

Warnings: near drowning, dead animal?, very gross sewer

Word Count: 1.1k

-

“If it's not in the trash, then it's gotta be somewhere in the storm drain,” Pope says glumly.

“Of course it is.” You shake your head, wiping some sweat off your brow. “Half an hour cleaning up trash with you two hooligans for nothing.”

JJ feigns an offended expression next to you, reaching around the drain to his backpack. “Hey, at least this hooligan thought to bring the crow bar.”

“So how are we doing this?” you ask, “Like rock paper scissors? Or alphabetically?”

“Nah.” “No.” The two boys grunt as they pull the grate loose.

“Or, like, the oldest goes?” JJ and Pope just turn to stare at you. “Really? Neither of you are gonna take the fall? You're really gonna make me do this.”

Pope just shrugs while JJ nods in agreement with your statement, gesturing toward the open pipe.

“Oh, I get it.” You nod to yourself. “You guys are scared. It’s kinda cute.”

“I’m not scared, Y/N,” JJ protests indignantly, but neither boy makes a move toward the sewer.

You give them both an incredulous look. “You should’ve just led with that. You don’t have to be scared. I'll do it.”

“Okay, just, you know, be careful,” JJ adds as you're already halfway in the sewer.

“I’ll be so careful,” you respond sarcastically.

“Yeah, just yell if you need anything.” Pope chimes in.

“Great, yeah, I’ll do that. You’re both so helpful.” Your voice echoes as you yell back to the idiots you call friends.

You should've known you’d be the one stuck crawling through the sewer. If you were smart you would’ve sent JJ and Pope to complete this task on their own, but then who knows what problems they would’ve gotten themselves into without you.

“Shit.” You flinch as your hand hits something slippery on your crawl through the pipe. “Ew, ew, ew, ew.”

“Y/N, do you see the gun?” JJ’s voice echoes through the sewer.

“Nothing yet.”

“It’s probably at the bottom of the catch basin,” Pope informs you.

You're panting hard by the time you reach the end of the tunnel. You pull yourself into the foot of water at the bottom of the basin, feeling around for the gun and trying hard not to think about the things you could be touching.

“Oh my god, this is disgusting.”

It takes a few minutes, but finally you feel something that seems like it could be the same size as the gun.

You yell back in the direction of Pope and JJ. “Guys, I think I found something.”

As you lean down to reach for the object, something foul smelling and distinctly hairy floats toward your face.

“Oh, oh my god!” You push the creature away, scrambling. “You guys, there’s something dead in here!”

Pope calls back, “What, like a person?”

Something else touches you back making you scream.

“Y/N, don't touch it! That's how you get worms!” JJ yells, making you scream and yell even more.

“You guys owe me for life!”

“Just find the gun. Find the gun and get out.” Pope cuts over the noise, trying to get you back on track. He smacks JJ’s arm. “Dude, stop freaking her out.”

“Okay, okay.” you mutter to yourself, taking a deep breath. You turn back toward the water, continuing your search, but a noise makes you stop in your tracks.

“Oh, shit. Guys, the water! The water’s rising!” You turn frantically looking for a way out.

“Y/N! Get out of there now!” JJ’s panicked voice carries through the tunnel.

The water rises quickly, blocking off the way you came, making it impossible to crawl back out of the sewer.

“I don’t have time! Guys!” You hear them call back, yelling your name, but it all sounds muffled over the rushing of the water.

Turning to your only other option, you start climbing the ladder to the manhole. Panic courses through your body, fueling you to move faster and faster. The water chases you, rising just as fast as you can climb.

Your hands reach the top, straining against the hard metal of the cover, but it doesn't move. “Please! JJ! Guys!” You scream for your friends, pushing as hard as you can to free yourself. “Help, I’m over here!”

“Y/N!” You hear JJ’s voice moving closer. “Y/N, we’re coming!”

You stick your hands through the grate, gesturing frantically with your fingers, trying to show your friends where you are. “Please!” Your voice comes out in a broken sob. “The water’s coming up!”

“We’re here!” The boys grunt as they pull against the stubborn metal. You push up, providing any bit of help you can, but the water is overtaking you.

“JJ, JJ please,” You plead as the water rises to your chin.

“We’ll get you out of there. I promise!” JJ pulls out his knife, cutting around the edge of the cover as Pope pulls.

You slam your hands against the grate once more, panic coursing through your veins. “JJ-” The water covers your face. You feel his fingers on yours and all you can do is pray that he gets you out of here.

It feels like an eternity that you stay stuck in that position, your lungs burning, but finally, the cover pulls away with a clang. You pull yourself out of the hole, retching and coughing. The boys move back giving you a minute to recover. You pull yourself onto your knees, sucking in the clean air as fast as you can.

“Y/N?” JJ’s soft voice comes from beside you. He tentatively places a gentle hand between your shoulder blades. “You okay?”

You give him a weak thumbs up. “Never better,” you rasp out, making both boys chuckle.

Taking a steadying breath, you sit back on your heels and reach toward the small of your back. “This wasn’t what we were looking for, right?” You pull a gun out from your waistband. Handing it towards JJ with a small smirk.

“Holy shit,” Pope breathes.

“Oh my god.” JJ laughs, taking the gun from your hand wrapping it in a bandanna. He reaches his other hand out to you, helping you to your feet. “You did it, Y/N. You did it!” He scoops you up in a tight hug, nearly knocking you off your feet. “That’s my girl.”

“Okay, a little tight. I almost just drowned, remember?”

“Right, sorry!” He pulls back quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, just thought we lost you there for a second. You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You smile softly at him before pulling both boys into another quick hug. “Now let’s get this bad boy to Shoupe, so I can go shower.”

“Deal,” Pope agrees, “Good job.”

“Yeah, you definitely need a shower. You smell like shit.” JJ jokes, earning himself a hard shove from you. Pope nods solemnly beside him.

“Okay, assholes. Next time, you guys get to crawl through the sewer.”

[adore-laur]

PINK VELVET

— an italian getaway full of sunshine & surprises 💗

——

SALERNO, ITALY

Crystalline blue waters sparkling under the sunshine, ornate architecture standing high among the cliffsides, and mopeds burning rubber on the cobblestone streets — it's all pure, unadulterated bliss. 

To share that bliss with your boyfriend enhances the experience. Both of you have been staying at a villa rental for a few days already, and the surrounding greenery and stucco buildings on the precipice rocks of the Tyrrhenian Sea bring a much-needed sense of privacy. It's a getaway for your third anniversary with Harry, and while it's a more extended vacation than usual — two weeks to be exact — the mellow atmosphere makes you feel like you could stay in Italy forever.

Harry had said he plans on wooing you with the foreign language, having bought a book filled with romantic phrases at the airport's souvenir shop. You're dreading it because once he starts, he won't stop. 

It's four in the afternoon, and you're getting ready to kayak off the Amalfi Coast. The heat will be sweltering, especially out on the open water, so you put on jean shorts over your swim bottoms, leaving just your bikini top on. Harry is standing in the doorway of the master bathroom and tying the strings of his swim trunks. He's wearing a white tank top that you know will be taken off eventually. 

A cooler packed with snacks and drinks is by the front door. Once you reach downtown, the journey to the kayak launch takes about fifteen minutes, so you and Harry will drive in the vintage Cadillac he insisted on renting and park on the street before walking the rest of the way. 

"Ready?" Harry asks, giving your ass two pats as he walks by. 

"I guess," you say flatly. 

He smirks and steals a scrunchie from your makeup bag to put around his wrist. "That's enough outta you." 

You hoist the cooler over your shoulder, sling a beach towel over the other, and then stroll through the spacious villa rooms toward the door. When you open it, a blast of humid air immediately hits you. Harry brushes past you while jingling the car keys, a drawstring backpack on his back. You lock the door before heading toward the luxurious car you don't want to know the cost of. 

Harry swings the passenger door open for you like a gentleman, but you decide to mess with him by ignoring his gesture. You open the driver's side door and smoothly crawl over the console until you're in the passenger seat. Harry slowly shakes his head, reaching forward to pluck your bikini strap with his fingers and lightly snap it against your skin. He throws his backpack under the seat before sliding behind the steering wheel.

The engine roars to life. Harry's hand places itself on your headrest, his body twisting around so he can carefully reverse down the circular driveway. You take his hand and set your interlocked fingers in your lap. He glances at you and smiles, his hair blowing beautifully in the wind and the sun casting a golden hue over his face.

When you arrive downtown, Harry parks along a random street. He removes his hand from yours and claps once. "Okay, here's the game plan. I reckon we should rent one kayak for both of us. It'll be cheaper and more fun, and we can work together like—"

"Absolutely not." 

"Pardon?" 

"I'm sorry, but being stuck in a kayak with you sounds like my personal hell. You'll somehow manage to tip us over or get us lost." Harry can live in a world of his own sometimes. You really want to avoid ending up stranded in the deep, expansive ocean.

"Baby," he says, looking at you with wounded eyes. "What if I drift away and we lose each other? I need you. I'll do all the work while you sit back and relax." 

You can't possibly say no to him when he looks like a literal Greek god basking in the Italian sun, his lips irresistibly pink against his tanned skin. 

"Fine," you surrender. "I'm not letting you do all the work, though, because we'll probably end up in a different country. Also, I'm sitting in the front seat. Deal?" 

"Sì, amore mio," he says, passion dripping off his tongue. "And, um... I may have already paid for just one kayak when I booked the reservation yesterday. Well, singular ticket." 

"You're unbelievable." Stepping out of the car, you stretch your limbs while Harry puts his backpack on and grabs the cooler. You hold onto his free hand and begin walking to the beach. Many people are out and about — vendors selling gourmet cuisine, kids riding bicycles through the alleyways, and tourists stopping at attractions.

At the waterfront, kayaks are stacked on racks, shimmering under the sun. Since Harry booked a reservation ahead of time, he walks toward the man who appears to be running the operation. You watch them shake hands and converse. Harry knows enough basic Italian to navigate through any language barrier yet to come. 

Eventually, they both wander over to you, and the man caresses your hand and kisses your cheek. You smile and shyly mutter an Italian greeting. The man then excitedly leads you to the kayaks, taking a maroon two-seater from the bottom rack and dragging it toward the water. While following him, you notice only a few people are on the beach today. Only a couple of other occupied kayaks drift in the ocean, looking like mere silhouettes from where you stand. 

"You know the rules, yes?" asks the man as he pushes the front of the kayak into the shallow water. 

"Yes, I've done this before. I'll teach this guy," you say, pointing at Harry while draping your towel over the seat. 

Harry smiles mindlessly, placing the cooler and backpack between the two seats. The man briefly leaves to grab life jackets and oars, leaving you and Harry to get into the kayak. You have him go first since he's sitting in the back. As you grip the side so it doesn't rock, he removes his tank top and hands it to you before steadily climbing in and bending his long legs to fit in the restrictive space. 

You're next. Harry plants his foot in the sand to keep the kayak balanced and then offers his hand to grasp. Once you're situated, you sigh relievedly.

"This sucks," Harry mutters, nudging his knee against your back. "I can't even see your face." 

"You could've solved that problem if you got us two kayaks."

"Yeah, but I wanted to be close to you," he says, sliding his shoes off. "Just look behind you every once in a while so I can get my fix." 

You laugh, looking at the water that endlessly expands past the horizon. The man comes back with two life jackets, and you clip one to your body as sturdy oars are placed across your and Harry's laps. The man gives a thumbs up and slowly maneuvers the kayak away from the shoreline.

"Grazie!" Harry shouts, waving to him as the both of you drift further from land. 

"Ciao! Stai al sicuro!" he shouts back. 

The destination to the cliffs is a short one, their imminent height visible far out to the left of the coastal village. You begin paddling, alternating sides to stay on a straight path, while Harry opens the cooler to take out a package of crackers and a bottle of water.

"Please tell me you know how to properly paddle," you say, taking a break to sip some water while the kayak naturally rides the ripples.

"Obviously. I'm kind of the backbone of this kayak, so I know what I'm doing," Harry replies with faux confidence, still not picking up the paddle. 

"That's funny, considering I'm literally doing all the work right now. Get to paddling, or I won't turn around so you can get your fix." 

"Calmati, bellissima," he murmurs, snatching a handful of crackers before finally helping.

A comfortable silence ensues, only the sound of water splashing and the slight creak of the kayak that comes with each movement. Harry whistles a tune every so often. A content smile pulls at your lips.

However, it doesn't last long because if there's one thing Harry loves to do, it's acting like a child sometimes. He disrupts the long stretch of peace by pretending to tip over the kayak by rocking slightly back and forth in his seat, gasping like he's not doing it. 

"Harry, I swear to God," you say with a nervous undertone, holding on to the edge of the kayak so you don't actually tip over into the vast ocean infested with who knows what. "You're like a five-year-old!" 

He listens immediately, apparently noticing your anxiousness. He settles back in his seat, stretching his legs next to your body and nudging his foot against your thigh as a silent apology.

"It wasn't me. I think there's an animal under us," he says, playing with your hair to distract you. It doesn't help, because you know that there are probably massive creatures swimming below you. He knows one of your biggest fears is drowning, so he should feel like a jerk now after his little charade.

"Are you going to sit there and braid my hair, or can you help me get to our destination before it gets dark?" 

"Sorry," he murmurs, grabbing his paddle and helping you turn left toward the rock formations. They aren't too far away now.

"We're almost there," you encourage softly, dialing back your slight attitude. Harry is quiet, so you turn around to see him pouting softly. "Why are you sulking?"

"Am I being annoying? You sound annoyed with me," he says, avoiding eye contact and setting his paddle down.

"No, honey. I just want to get there as quickly as we can and swim for a bit. We have wine tasting after this, so we can't dilly-dally." 

"Dilly-dally," he repeats, laughing at your chosen phrase. "Okay, I'll behave. Kiss?" 

You capture his lips with yours, tasting the tomato basil crackers he's been munching on. He kisses you back and reaches his hand to push some hair behind your ear. Pulling away, you see the cliffs only about two hundred feet away. You both begin paddling again in serene silence. 

At the side of the cliff, you stop the kayak by a large, flat rock that peeks out of the water and appears safe to stand on. You hold onto it, the waves more active in this area, and tie some rope around the post provided. You assume it's there for other kayakers and cliff divers to take advantage of. 

Once you climb onto the rock, you offer your hand to assist Harry and pull him up. "We made it!" you exclaim, lifting your arms. Harry high-fives both of your hands and bends down to kiss you. 

You unclip your life jacket, then do the same for Harry. Free from obstruction, your arms naturally loop around his waist for a hug. He embraces you, his large hand cradling the back of your head. You stay like that for a while, watching waves crash against the rocks as the sun starts painting the sky with blue and orange streaks. 

"Wanna do something stupid?" you mumble into his chest before lifting your chin to look at him mischievously. He has more freckles due to hours spent sunbathing. 

Harry peers at you with furrowed brows. "What?"

"Let's jump off that rock," you say, pointing your finger behind him. 

He turns you both around, still trapping you in his arms. A tall, cliff-like rock surrounded by several smaller rocks makes it easy to reach the top. You don't wait for Harry's answer and pull your shorts down, revealing your cherry-red bikini bottoms. Venturing your way up, you glance back at Harry. He grins and immediately follows suit, walking behind you with outreached arms in case you slip. 

At the top, you both stare at each other with knowing smiles. This is exactly where you're supposed to be. 

Out of nowhere, Harry experiences a burst of spontaneity and quickly lunges forward, cannonballing off the cliff and into the water. He emerges after a few seconds, shaking his hair and letting out a loud holler, probably caused by adrenaline or the cold water. 

You shuffle toward the edge and get ready to jump. Harry's gaze never wavers as you daintily leap off, plugging your nose and closing your eyes on the long way down. When you hit the water, a powerful sensation rushes through your body. You glide to the surface and find Harry swimming toward you, drenched hair plastered to his skin.

The water is an uncomfortable temperature, so you move briskly to climb back up on the rock the kayak is tied to. Shortly after, Harry lifts himself up, droplets dripping from his body. You dry off with the towel, then hand it to him. Once he finishes, you take your phone out of the backpack and tell him to pose. He presents both middle fingers, sticking his tongue out with a smile. The breathtaking evening view in the background makes the picture ten times more perfect. 

"Let's head back," you say after soaking in the skyline. "The wine tasting is at six, and it's a little after five right now." 

Harry nods, and you both put your life jackets back on before situating yourselves in the kayak. You untie the knotted rope, push off the rock, and then head toward the coastline. He helps paddle the whole way there, kissing the back of your neck every so often. 

Bliss, bliss, bliss. 

—— 

After returning the kayak and packing all the stuff in the car's trunk, Harry says he's going to find a nearby bathroom so he can change into his outfit for the wine tasting. He hands you one of his sweaters out of the bag — a grey crewneck. It's your favorite and still smells like him, no matter how often you've worn it. 

You have no idea what outfit he brought; he manages to take it out and quickly runs into a shop while you're distracted by the lively village. Waiting with anticipation in the car, you cozy up, growing tired from the strenuous paddling and calming atmosphere around you. 

Five minutes pass before Harry appears, and you immediately laugh at the sight of him. Not because he looks silly but because his outfit is too fancy for less than an hour of wine tasting in some restaurant's cellar. 

"Harry," you say breathily, taking in his outfit, "I'm wearing a sweater, and you're wearing a suit. Where did you even get that?" 

It's a bubblegum pink suit left open over a plain white button-up. White dress shoes are on his feet, and he must've fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror. 

"Eh?" He spins around. "You like it?" 

"You look very handsome, but now I feel severely underdressed. Why didn't you tell me to pack a dress?" You obviously don't have the time to go back to the villa and change, but you're curious as to why Harry didn't say anything about the apparent dress code for tonight. 

"Wanted to surprise you, darling. Plus, I know you would be worried about spilling wine on something nice. It's a private tasting, so no one will see you but me and the chef I mentioned."

Harry had booked a wine tasting with a man he'd met when he last visited Italy, the friendly owner of a family-owned restaurant in the village. He has always been able to leave unforgettable impressions on everyone he meets, so the man gladly moved some things around so that he could have you two come to the cellar for an intimate experience. 

You sigh, realizing there's no point in arguing. They won't care, so why should you? You have no doubt that Harry will make you feel comfortable once you get there. 

"You're right. Hopefully, he doesn't care that I look like I just crawled out of a lake." 

"Basta. Sembri un sogno," Harry says, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the car. 

You assume he said something incredibly charming. Your face naturally warms as you distract yourself by picking nonexistent lint off your sleeve before walking the bustling street toward a restaurant called Dahlia. The man Harry knows is waiting by the arched front door with a jovial smile.

"Ciao, Signore Styles!" he greets enthusiastically. "Ah, la tua ragazza. Benvenuto!"

Harry shakes his hand. "Che bello rivederti. Questa è la mia ragazza, sì. Cominciamo, va bene?" 

"Yes, yes. Seguitemi, cari." 

The two of you follow him through the small, packed restaurant and descend a narrow flight of stairs that leads to a wine cellar. Harry is behind you, his hands on your shoulders so you don't take a tumble. His dress shoes click against the polished wood with each step. 

At the bottom, you turn down a dim hallway. Endless wine bottles are meticulously stacked on shelves against the walls. There's a table and chairs, and two wine glasses and napkins are already set neatly on the surface. There's even a plate of bread. 

You sit, Harry doing the same. He immediately begins shaking the napkin out and placing it in his lap like he's done this a million times before. You cross your legs and angle your body toward him, admiring his features in the low, yellowish lighting from the antique wall sconces. He grins handsomely.

The man brings over two bottles of expensive-looking wine, and you think of your preconceived notion of what wine tasting would be like—rolling hills and vineyards in the countryside, getting wine drunk with middle-aged moms wearing patterned blouses, gossiping about their cheating husbands. 

Where you are right now is undeniably better. Who wouldn't want to be in a cramped room with their boyfriend who's wearing a pink suit and looking at you like you're the only thing that exists?

The man fills the wine glasses with an adequate amount of blood-red liquid, then stands back to observe your reactions. Harry spins it around in his glass and sniffs it, acting like he's all fancy. You want to laugh at him but keep it inside so you don't seem disrespectful. Instead, you bring your glass up to your mouth and take a small sip, tasting wild berries and a hint of an unknown aromatic herb. Harry sips his next, eyes locked on yours the entire time. He smacks his lips after swallowing and exhales, obviously pleased. You roll your eyes at him secretively. He's acting like he owns the place, and it's shameful that you find it attractive. 

You rip off a piece of the bread from the loaf in front of you and eat it, the buttery dough instantly melting on your tongue. Harry smiles at you, resting his hand on your chair as you rip some more off and offer it to him. He puts it in his mouth and mouths a silent swear, then picks up the entire loaf of bread and inspects it like he's Gordon Ramsey. 

"I need the recipe for that," you whisper humorously. 

Harry, of course, takes it literally. He beckons the man to come closer and places a friendly hand on his shoulder. "La mia ragazza adora cucinare il pane. Potrei avere questa ricetta per favore? Questo è sorprendente." 

"Ovviamente! Tornerò," says the man while hurriedly going upstairs. 

You turn to Harry with confusion, needing help understanding the exchange. 

"He's getting the recipe for it," he explains. "You can make it before we go home."

"Harry," you say with a sigh. "Stop being so nice. I could've just found an online recipe. What if it's a family recipe that's super important to him?" 

"Stop worrying, my love. He doesn't mind."

Before you can respond, the man returns with a tattered recipe book. He opens it to a bookmarked page and sets it in front of you. "Fai una photo, caro. Fammi sapere com'è quando lo fai," he says, pointing at the bread drawing — not a picture — on the weathered page. Was this recipe from medieval times? Goodness gracious.

You can't understand him, so Harry takes your phone out of your pocket and snaps a picture of the handwritten words on the paper. You can't believe this man you just met is so willing to give you a recipe from his own restaurant. 

"Grazie," you say shyly. Harry smiles at your sudden bashfulness, scooting closer to you and kissing your head.

Wine tasting continues for the next hour. Throughout the various sips of eclectic flavors, Harry amps up his lovable antics — slowly and dramatically reeling off flavors he gets from the wine and spinning the liquid in the glass so quickly that it spills onto the napkin in his lap. 

Anything to see you smile. 

After what feels like gallons of wine, you and Harry thank the man for his graciousness and ask if he could drive the car back to the villa since driving back yourselves while tipsy would be idiotic. Harry offers to pay a hefty amount for the favor, and the man happily obliges, saying he will drive it back when he finishes closing the restaurant. Harry hands him the keys before you leave, shaking hands and kissing cheeks with the other chefs on the way out. 

You're both wine-drunk—arguably the best kind of drunk—and stumbling on clumsy feet with cheeks that won't stop smiling. It's dark out now, and the streetlights guide you to the Corvette. Harry calls for a taxi, speaking in full Italian, which makes you weak in the knees. 

Harry removes his suit jacket after hanging up the phone, leaving the white button-up in all its glory, his tattoos and chest hair peeking out from the few buttons undone. You take your belongings out of the trunk, set them on the ground, and then stand beside Harry. You kiss his chest, nuzzling your cheek against it and closing your eyes. He rubs his hand along your back and begins swaying with you under the streetlight. 

You look up at him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, admiring his matching appearance. "How do you say 'pretty' in Italian?" you ask, getting lost in his gaze. 

Harry pouts, thinking. "Patatina," he replies after a few seconds. 

"You're patatina," you say lovingly.

He snorts at your cluelessness, smearing a kiss on your forehead. 

"What?" you ask, looking at him with confusion. "Is that not what it means? That's not nice, Harry. What did you just make me say?" You gasp. "Is it something dirty?" 

He's still giggling, crinkled eyes and deep dimples carving his face. You poke his ribs to get him to answer. "Sorry," he says, breathing out a final laugh. "No, it's not dirty. Patatina is a term of endearment I read about in the book I bought. It means little potato." 

You stare at him with a deadpan expression, thoughts about why you decided to date this boy running through your head. "Little potato... it's actually kind of cute," you admit, shuffling closer to Harry's warm body. "If you're a patatina, what am I?" 

"Cipollino," he murmurs, cradling your face. It translates to 'little onion .'The book said it pairs well with patatina, and we're, like... a pair." 

Your nose scrunches. "But an onion, out of everything? That's probably the least romantic vegetable. I want to be rhubarb or something, you know? They taste sweet, and I think... I think I'm pretty sweet. Right, Harry?" The wine is making its way to your dizzy head.

"Correct," he says. "And I'm patatina, not Harry." 

"Shut up." 

"Kiss me, then. Shut me right up." 

You don't question him, lurching forward to give him a searing kiss, fingers hooking in his belt loops. He returns the kiss with the same, if not more, passion. You can taste the residue of wine on his cherry-colored lips, opening his mouth with your tongue to suck on his. 

You suddenly hear tires rolling up and turn to see headlights shining on your figures. Great timing, taxi. You part from Harry's swollen lips, short of breath, and hastily pick up your stuff. You hope no one witnessed anything too wild.

Harry hands the driver a wad of cash before he climbs in the backseat. You follow suit. The vehicle drives off into the night, and your head rests on your lover's shoulder the whole way back.

—— 

The villa looms exquisitely under the starlit sky. You're relatively sure you fell asleep not even five minutes into the drive. Harry helps your sleepy body out of the car after grabbing all your belongings, then walks you up the driveway. He sets you on the outdoor sofa surrounding the fire pit before disappearing through the sliding door. The whispering breeze makes you shiver and burrow deeper into his sweater still clinging to your figure.

Harry returns with two wine glasses and a bottle of... cranberry juice?

"If I have any more wine, I'll puke. So, cranberry juice?" he offers, his voice rising to a higher octave. 

"Sitting by the fire drinking cranberry juice out of a wine glass with you," you say dreamily while scooting over to make room for him. "I can't think of anything better."

You soak up his company. When he went inside, he changed into grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie, and he looked like such a boyfriend. It's ridiculous. He's always so inviting and lovely. You find yourself wanting to touch him and absorb the warmth he exudes.

Sleep overtakes you again while tucked into his side. The next thing you wake to is silk sheets on the king-size bed. You instinctively curl up to Harry's body beside you. He must have opened the vast bay window that provides an impossible sea view because a beautiful breeze flows over your skin. It has you sinking further into the mattress. 

"Want me to get your pajamas?" Harry asks quietly.

You sleepily shake your head, perfectly fine with sleeping in his sweater. However, you do slide off your shorts and bikini bottoms. 

You're dozing again when Harry clears his throat. You blink open your eyes, feeling his heart rate speed up under your cheek resting there. 

"I have something special planned for our anniversary tomorrow. It's in the evening, so we have time to do other things. Just letting you know." 

"That makes me nervous, but I trust you."

"Tomorrow will be even better than today. I promise." 

"Can't wait." You yawn. "Goodnight. Love you."

"I love you more than anything," he says, lightly scratching your back. 

You grumble an incoherent response, drifting off to your dreams that always pale compared to life with the man next to you. 

—— 

The following morning's ambiance consists of Harry's snoring and glorious sunshine pouring through the wind-blown curtains. You must've slept like a rock because the bedside clock reads nine-thirty. You decide to abandon the soft sheets and let Harry get more sleep. 

You wrap yourself in your satin robe and pad down the hallway toward the kitchen. One glance at the oven, and you remember the bread recipe from last night. It'd be a pleasant anniversary surprise for Harry, considering his surprise for you is shrouded in mystery. Plus, making bread is oddly therapeutic—the kneading, the delicious smell, the endless possibility of flavors. Luckily, all the simple ingredients are in the pantry, so you can start making the dough. 

By the time it's in the oven, Harry is still dead to the world, and the time is nearing eleven. Some days, he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to go on a stupid run, or he'll sleep until noon on the weekends after a long week of work. There's really no in-between. 

While the bread bakes, you clean the mess on the counters before sitting at the kitchen table to aimlessly scroll through your phone. Another twenty minutes pass before you hear feet shuffling against the hardwood floor. You glance up to find a puffy-eyed Harry rubbing his face. He's wearing black swim trunks, and that's about it, except for the sunglasses on top of his head. 

He bends down and kisses your cheek. "Buongiorno, mio piccolo cuoco," he says, his voice as raspy as the slight mustache above his lip that seems to have grown overnight.

"More like good afternoon." You shut your phone off and set it aside. "Did you sleep well?" 

"Mm, the best I have in ages," he answers, scratching his stomach. He then smiles lazily, his eyes looking more awake. "Happy anniversary." 

"Three whole years. I don't know how I've gone putting up with you this long." 

"Hey. I can go back to bed if you want," he says, pointing his thumb toward the bedroom. 

"No, stay," you plead softly. "By the way, I'm making that bread recipe. It's my present to you for being an average boyfriend." 

"Being sassy this morning, are we?" 

"You love it." 

"Got that right," Harry mutters, nosily peering into the oven. He sniffs the bread dramatically and whistles impressively before shutting the oven door. The mouthwatering aroma reminds you of wandering the Italian streets yesterday.

"Going for a swim?"

"Yeah. Join me?"

"I will once the bread is done." You stand and send him on his way with a peck to his lips. "Go ahead. I'll make you a fruit platter."

"Dragonfruit, please?" he requests, opening the sliding door that leads to the infinity pool. 

"Got it. Don't forget to put sunscreen on!" 

He gives you a thumbs up, leaving the door open to welcome the pleasant breeze. You grab hot pads and take the finished bread out, setting it on the cooling rack before turning the oven off. While it cools, you change into a swimsuit, tie a chiffon wrap skirt around your hips, and then arrange a platter. 

You gather the cubed fruit you've both been eating the past couple of days—cantaloupe, watermelon, strawberries, and, per Harry's request, dragonfruit. He wanted to buy some after his wonderful mother grew it in her garden. Then, you precisely arrange the fruit in a circle on a floating breakfast tray that can go in the pool, keeping the middle open for slices of buttered bread. You sincerely hope it tastes close enough to what you ate yesterday. 

Lastly, you fill glasses with orange juice before carefully heading outside to keep Harry company. You see him floating on his back, arms open and eyes closed. You set the platter down on a table and tiptoe to the edge of the pool.

To hell with it. You're going to scare him to get him back for trying to tip the kayak yesterday. It's only fair, right? 

He's oblivious to everything around him, a peaceful glow on his face. You almost feel bad for deciding to disturb it — especially on your anniversary — but what good is a relationship without a bit of havoc? 

You mull over what you could possibly do to frighten him. Maybe throw a cantaloupe piece at him or pretend the car came back destroyed. These are two vastly different ends of the mischief spectrum, and ultimately, the latter is the obvious choice—and the most fun.

"Harry?" you say quietly, changing your expression to make it seem like you're distraught. 

"Yeah?" he replies, keeping his eyes closed. 

"Um, your friend from yesterday just dropped the car off. Harry, it's—"

His eyes snap open, picking up on your wavering and anxious tone. He stops floating and swims over to where you're standing by the edge. 

"What's wrong? Talk to me. Did something happen? Are you okay?" he rambles worriedly, his eyes darting between your face and body to check for any signs. 

"The car," you whisper, mustering up fake tears. Harry instinctively holds your ankle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. "It's destroyed. It looks like it got in an accident. What are we going to do?" 

"Seriously? What the fuck? How— I don't—" He heaves himself out of the pool and begins walking around the villa toward the driveway. He looks like he's about to punch something, so you suppress your laughter and decide to end the game. 

You grab his wrist, spinning him around. He stares at you with panic, and now you feel bad. "I'm kidding, baby. I'm just messing with you. The car is fine. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeat, clasping his cheeks and laughing.

His jaw drops. "You're so mean." 

"I'm just getting you back for yesterday. Them's the rules."

"Yeah, but you've been quite sassy all morning, hmm? First, you called me an average boyfriend. Then, you didn't even kiss me good morning. That hurts my heart." 

"You were completely passed out. How would you have known if I kissed you good morning or not?"

"I can always tell. They bring me back to life." 

"Shut up," you scoff, grabbing the platter. "Here's some fruit and homemade bread as a peace offering. Take it or leave it." 

"Feed me in the pool, and I'll consider your offer." 

"Fine. I'm not getting in, though. I want to sunbathe for a bit. 

Harry dramatically rolls his eyes and dives back in. When he emerges, he swims to the edge. You sit down with the platter and let it float next to him before putting your feet in the tepid water. You pick up a slice of bread and hold it to Harry's awaiting mouth. He places your legs over his shoulders, his arms hooking around your upper thighs. 

Someone's needy today. 

He tosses the bread into his mouth, eyes rolling back like they did in the wine cellar yesterday. He borderline moans at the taste, jaw flexing with each chew. After he swallows, he leaves grateful kisses on your thighs. "Deliziosa," he murmurs, paired with more nipping and kissing. You know he's not talking about the bread. The 'a' he added to the end of the word makes it feminine. He's not slick.

Before you both get carried away — wanting to save your pent-up tension for later — you feed him a plethora of fruit before deciding to make both of you an actual meal. You're starving, so you'll catch some sun later. 

Harry whines at the loss of contact. You use your foot to push his chest until he's floating on his back again. He throws you a peace sign before you head back inside. 

As you whip up a quick breakfast, you watch your boyfriend from the door, appreciating his sunkissed body and tattoos. You smile and think about how time has flown by with him in the most remarkable way.

Three years and hopefully a lifetime more.

—— 

You're nervous. 

You don't have the faintest idea what Harry's surprise is. All he's said is to dress nicely and not eat anything yet. Maybe he's taking you out to dinner? Or perhaps you'll walk downtown together and stop at vendors. You're stumped. He's annoyingly good at keeping secrets. 

It's nearing seven as you add the finishing touches to your makeup. Harry is in the bathroom spraying cologne on his neck, looking casually handsome in a flowing, off-white button-up. He's paired it with matching cotton shorts and sneakers that need washing. You keep telling him to clean them, but he ignores your pleading and claims the dirt gives them character. 

A short cherry-colored dress with puffed sleeves adorns your body. Red lipstick to match. Hair loose. The necklace Harry bought you for your last anniversary glimmering against your neck. 

Harry comes behind you in the vanity mirror as you apply a final coat of mascara and starts soothingly scratching your upper back. He can probably sense you're feeling nervous, knowing you don't particularly like surprises. However, you think he looks undeniably handsome, his new tan and stubble pulling you back into his comfort. Somehow, just looking at him eases your nerves.

"Gorgeous," he whispers.

You smooth any remaining wrinkles out of your dress. "Thank you. I'm almost done." 

"Take your time," he replies, squeezing your shoulders. "I'll start the car." 

You make sure your makeup is smudge-free and then shut the bedroom light off on your way to the front door. Harry is waiting by the passenger side of the Corvette with a distracted look on his face. When he finally sees you coming, he opens the door for you. This time, you accept his gentlemanlike gesture. 

He drives to an unknown destination, taking the backroads. You can't even guess where you're heading since everything outside the villa is unfamiliar.

Ten minutes later, Harry slows down and turns right toward what appears to be a small seaside forest. He drives along the path leading through the trees until a hidden beach area eventually reveals itself. He parks the car while you're speechless at the sight before you. The only things on the sand are a round table with two chairs surrounded by tiki torches. 

No one else is here. If Harry tells you he rented the entire beach, you'll kill him. 

"I rented this portion of the beach for the night."

Of course.

"You're ridiculous," you say, taking in your surroundings. "Thank you, Harry. This is a wonderful surprise." 

He ducks his head bashfully. "C'mon, let's eat." 

You follow him to the table and sit on the wicker chair across from him. In front of you is a plate of stuffed ravioli with a side of roasted asparagus, cooked just how you like them. Harry has vegan fettuccine alfredo with peas--a lot of peas. A gagworthy amount.

"I'm floored right now," you say, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "I can't believe you did all this without me knowing." 

"I'm a sneaky guy. There were lots of secret phone calls while you were in the shower or swimming in the pool. 

You take your sandals off and enjoy the cool sand between your toes. "Yeah, I bet. I'm not even going to ask how much it costs to rent this part of the beach." 

"It's not important," he says. "Let's eat, shall we? And talk me through this little outfit you have on. Why on earth haven't I seen you wear it yet?" 

Then, both of you eat, talk, and watch the waves glide on the shore. The sun is dipping past the horizon, turning the sky a violet shade with splashes of fading orange. You talk Harry's ear off about random stuff in your life and humorous anecdotes since the trip started. His body naturally leans toward you to give you his undivided attention. He listens the entire time, eyes on you with his chin in the palm of his hand, except for when he pops some spearmint gum into his mouth after finishing his truckload of peas. 

After you finish rambling, you wait for him to start talking your ear off. He usually can drone on and on about anything for hours, but right now, he's just sitting and staring at the sunset. 

"You're quiet," you point out, gently poking his arm with your fork. 

"Just thinking." 

"About what?" 

He sighs longingly before saying, "I know we still have more than enough time here, but I kind of don't want to leave. I love it here so much. This is the happiest I've ever been." 

Your heart melts. "I feel the same way. I could stay here forever and never get bored of it. Especially with you by my side."

Harry finally looks at you, his eyes holding something unreadable yet powerful. He stands abruptly and reaches his hand out. "Let's walk for a bit," he says with a tone that kicks your anxiety into high gear. 

You grasp his hand, and he leads you along the shoreline, your feet getting wet whenever the tide washes up. It's quiet except for the pesky seagulls, crashing waves, and salty breeze. Where you are right now makes you want to bottle up the memory so you can keep the feeling forever, replay this trip, and relive the most joyous moments of your life. 

Harry eventually stops, facing you with both hands holding yours tightly. He looks... pale. Are his hands shaking, or are you imagining things? Is he about to pass out from sunstroke? Did he eat too many peas? 

He clears his throat and visibly gulps, squinting at the sky and exhaling quickly. His feet shuffle nervously. An incomprehensible thought zings to the front of your brain. 

Is he about to do what you think he's about to do? 

"I might cry and possibly throw up, so please bear with me," he says, his voice shaky.

You just stare at him, unable to say anything. Then, he begins lowering on one knee, and you just about go down with him. 

He removes his hands from yours and takes something out of his pocket. It's a velvet ring box, pink and delicate.  

You gasp as Harry opens his mouth, his watery eyes trained on nothing but you. "I love you with all my heart. I'm weak for the things you do, and it consumes me to the point where I feel like I might burst from loving you so much. Every word you speak or smile you give me has me falling for you deeper and deeper. And... you love me back. You love me better than anyone. And I realized when we first met that you're someone I not only want in this life but need. You're the only one for me, and I'll take care of you, support you, and love you so thoroughly until you get sick of me. I'm rambling now, so I'll shut up and cut to the chase. I want to be your husband. Will you marry me? Please? Il mio cuore è solo tuo. If you want it, it's yours." 

Harry finishes his speech by opening the ring box to reveal a silver oval-cut ring that takes your breath away. A tear trails down your cheek as your lips wobble. You nod your head what feels like a thousand times. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. Holy shit."

He laughs beautifully, his eyes squinting so much that the captured tears in his waterline spill over. He stands and shakily puts the ring on the correct finger. It fits perfectly. 

You cup his cheeks and bring his face toward yours. "I love you," you say while kissing his flushed and tear-stained cheeks. "You're so sneaky. I wasn't expecting this until you looked like you were going to pass out in front of me." 

"Be glad I didn't throw up on your dress." 

"That's true." Suddenly, everything hits you. Harry, we're going to get married." 

He smiles with unbridled happiness, nodding before picking you up bridal style and running into the sea. The splashes he makes strike you with cold splatters, and you squeal, but it quickly turns into uncontrollable laughter when Harry spins you around and dips you toward the water. You squirm with resistance and manage to escape his arms. He stumbles from the waves but remains upright, then stares at you intensely for three seconds before kissing your lips like they're his life source. 

"My fiancée," he says, kissing down your face to your neck. "I adore you."

"Can we" — you whimper breathily — "go back to the villa and celebrate? Some wine, dessert, and... maybe some other things." 

He can't propose to you while looking this good and expect you not to jump his bones. 

"Sì, mi amore." 

—— 

At the villa, palpable tension lingers in the air and throughout your body. The adrenaline from what just happened is still coursing in your blood as Harry makes a beeline straight to the master bedroom. It's only right to follow with shallow breaths and a hammering heartbeat.

Approaching the bedroom, you see Harry already taking off his shirt. You walk over and lie on the bed, waiting for him to initiate the celebration. You're usually the one who likes to be in control, but being the sexually dominant type calls for preparation and the right kind of mood. Now, at this moment, all you want is to writhe in pleasure on silk sheets and feel Harry's touch everywhere. 

You're already impatiently aroused because of Harry's teasing on the drive back. His fingers were stroking the inside of your thigh, traveling up, up, up until they reached dangerous territory. He'd start to pull away after realizing how wet you already were, but you would trap his hand with your thighs, making him groan. Two could play at that game.

Now, Harry saunters over to you in nothing but his cotton shorts. His tanned skin looks tempting in the muted lamplight. The rest of the lights are off, and the moon is brightly shining in the indigo sky. 

"Ready for me?" he asks lowly, hungrily glancing over your body. 

You nod and bend your knees. Harry lies on his stomach and gets between your legs, his hands gripping your upper thighs with fervor. He must've put his rings on when you weren't looking. He knows you love the feeling of them. You're not picky as to where. 

"Gonna let me take care of you?"

"Please. Please, Harry." 

"Patience, my love. Let me see you." 

"I'm right here. Do something. Please, I need you." 

He shushes you with a soft timbre, scooting closer to where you need him the most. He lifts your dress, bunches the material up by your stomach, and then readjusts his grip on your thighs. His lips trail closer to your lace underwear, and he looks at you under his eyelashes. His eyes ground you, make you nervous, and leave you spellbound. Maintaining eye contact with him is hard when you know you'll come undone way too quickly from just his intense gaze. You're not giving him the benefit of that. Not tonight, at least.

Instead, you stare at the vaulted ceiling and gasp when his lips graze over your underwear. Soft, purposeful movements have you closing your thighs around your head as a reflex. Open-mouthed kisses over your wetness lace drive you crazy. You're clenching, internally soliciting for him to just do something. 

"Stop teasing," you say firmly, still not looking at him.

"Don't be bossy." 

"I'm not being bossy. You're my fiancé, so you're supposed to be nice to me." 

He moves your underwear to the side. "Yeah? My fiancée wants me to be nice to her? I'm always nice, baby. Always good for you, you know that." 

"You are, you are. It's true. The nicest man I've ever known. No one has even come close." You squirm with impatience. "Just take them off." 

Harry doesn't waste any time, propping himself up to slide the material down your legs. You lift your ankles above his head to fling them off, then plant your feet back on the mattress and spread wide open so he can resume. 

His mouth immediately latches onto your clit, sucking it, his nose fitting perfectly above it. You moan loudly, back arching and hands grasping his neck. You have to look at him now and watch him take care of you like only he knows how. When you do, it's a sight straight from heaven. His brows are drawn in, eyes shut, and pink lips bring you pleasure in the most intimate way. 

Harry continues sucking before soothing his tongue along your entrance. Without warning, he removes his mouth and replaces it with his fingers. He dives two of them in, curling them in a way that makes you inhale sharply. His mouth occupies itself with kissing the inside of your thighs, biting little marks so you can remember this experience. 

The sensations of both his fingers and mouth are overwhelming, and your hand can't help but involuntarily pull his hair. 

"God," he mumbles against your thigh. "Do that again, baby." 

You pull harder, and a deep, raspy moan leaves his mouth. He begins kissing along your body while his fingers continue bringing you to your peak. He adds a third as he nips your waist, his head exploring under your bunched-up dress. He props one arm up to hover himself over you. You look at him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted, soft moans escaping when he hits a particular spot. He smears a messy kiss on your lips, and you try your best to return it as his fingers thrust in and out of you.

An orgasm quickly forms in your lower stomach. Harry massages your clit with the pad of his thumb to bring you there, knowing your body and when you're about to let go like the back of his hand. He grinds against the bed to soothe his own arousal. He's been hard since your act in the car, having felt your thighs clench around his hands, his fingers so close to his favorite spot. He apparently couldn't help himself. 

When Harry hits that final spot that has you crying out, you arch your back and let go. Your eyes squeeze shut as you moan from the delightful pressure freely flowing out of your body. 

Harry places his mouth back on yours as you finish, removing his fingers from inside you and gripping your hips, leaving a coat of your arousal on the love bites left there. Your body is strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows and leave marks on Harry's neck. He grunts when you bite the sensitive skin below his earlobe and grinds against the bed once more, stilling and then shuddering through a fierce release.

Oh. He came from that one touch. 

He falls flat on the bed, cupping himself and breathing heavily. There's a damp spot on his shorts. It's a filthy sight.

"That was embarrassing. I'm sorry," Harry murmurs, his cheek pressed against the pillow. "I thought I'd be able to last." 

You brush some sweaty hair off his forehead. "It's fine. I don't have to do any work now." 

"Hilarious," he says monotonously. He suddenly jumps up from the bed and shuffles to the bathroom, confusing you. You hear him wash his hands and then turn on the jacuzzi. He returns with a clean pair of boxers and smoothly lifts you from the bed. Your dress covers your exposed state, yet it doesn't hide the slick feeling between your legs. The warm water will feel amazing. 

Harry gently sets you on the sink counter as the tub fills up. He grabs a washcloth and dips it under the faucet before cleaning you. It's comfortably silent, with only rushing water in the background. 

When the jacuzzi is adequately filled, Harry helps you stand and remove your dress. Once naked, you quickly go to the bathroom while Harry removes his boxers. He then leads you to the jacuzzi to sit down. When he climbs in, you cling onto him for a cuddle as sleepiness washes over you. Harry presses a button to turn the jets on. Everything feels so lovely.

"I can't believe you said yes," he says. 

"You knew I would. How could I possibly say no to you after a speech like that?" 

"Dunno. We're, like... together forever now." He rubs the ring on your finger. "Well, not yet. But when we actually get married, it's a lifetime with each other. It's wild to think about, but I want nothing more." 

"I get what you mean," you say, scrubbing the red lipstick stains on his neck with the pads of your fingers. "I want this with you too." 

When you softly rub around his lips, he kisses your finger and looks at you with disbelief. You pluck his swollen bottom lip with your thumb, then lean in to plant a truthful kiss there.

Everything with him is so simple. Every touch is meaningful. Every unspoken word holds the weight of a million said. Every laugh leaves you teary-eyed with a heart full of love.

He is pure love. What he gives so naturally is exactly what he is.

Once your skin turns wrinkly and the water becomes lukewarm, you and Harry get out and dry yourselves off. He retreats to the bedroom to grab pajamas. When he returns, you put on an oversized shirt and walk out of the bathroom after draining the tub, running toward the bed and bellyflopping on it like a kid. Harry shuts the bedroom light off and flops beside you, letting out a long and blissful sigh. 

"I'm hungry," he says.

You snort. "You ate a million peas not even an hour ago. How are you still hungry?" 

"Sex makes me hungry. And stop making fun of my love of peas. Hey, can you get the cantaloupe? I'm knackered." 

His rapid change of topics makes you laugh. "Anything for you, pea boy."

You hear him faintly whine at your new nickname for him as you stroll into the kitchen. You open the refrigerator to grab a bowl of cantaloupe cubes and then return. Harry's eyes are fluttering shut, and his limbs are spread out on the mattress. You climb over him, sitting against the headboard as he blindly reaches his hand for some fruit. He chews against the pillow, his cheeks squishing adorably. 

"Thanks," he mumbles with his mouth full. 

"Mm-hmm. I'm going to sleep. I'll put the bowl on the nightstand for you." 

Once you've moved the cantaloupe, you scoot down and lie on your back. Harry keeps reaching for the bowl without moving his head, sometimes missing entirely and waving his hand around to find it. You eventually close your eyes, a smile making its way to your face when you realize you'll wake up tomorrow as an engaged woman next to your future husband.

Harry finishes all the fruit in the bowl and then turns off the lamp. He tugs you against his chest, and you exhale happily, his warmth effortlessly pulling you under into a deep sleep. 

—— 

Two Weeks Later 

After situating yourself in the airplane seat, you pull out your phone and open Instagram. You and Harry are on your way back from Italy. It was an unforgettable two weeks together, and not one day went by without you making new memories. 

You had told only the closest people to you about the engagement—your parents and Harry's. No one else knows, so you decided to announce the news with an Instagram post. You wanted to wait until after vacation to worry about making phone calls and giving details about how it happened. 

Now, you start creating a post on the fourteen-hour flight to California. You already know what picture to use — Harry cutely holding a bottle of wine along the lusciously green countryside, ready for a picnic date in a park. Also, with an impressive mustache. Throughout the ten days after the engagement, Harry had decided to grow his faint mustache into a full-fledged one. You don't know how it grew so fast, honestly. You also didn't know how to feel about it at first, but you're accustomed to liking it now. It makes him look mature. 

How it feels between your thighs, well, that's a story for another day.

Harry has chosen to post a picture of the ring, gleaming brilliantly in the pink velvet box. And with him being the artsy, moderately strange social media poster, he had to add something extra to the picture — a paint swatch. Both of you spontaneously went paint shopping one day when you got bored in the villa. You had been talking to him for months about redoing the bathroom at the house, so you went to a local paint store to ogle at different options. Harry, being the sentimental and cheesy man he is, suggested painting it the color of the ring box he proposed with. You remember thinking the diluted pink would complement the white tiles and granite counter of the master bathroom perfectly. 

You couldn't possibly refuse the idea, especially since it would always remind you of that special evening on the beach.

You had searched with him to find a color that resembled the box, all while goofing around and laughing at the bizarrely specific names of the swatches. You had pointed to a light green swatch appropriately named peapod and told Harry he should paint the kitchen that color since he loves peas so much. He pouted at you and dramatically walked down another aisle. Typical. And so sensitive about his peas!

Harry is sleeping beside you, his head snugly settled on a pillow propped against the airplane window while soft snores escape his mouth. You'll wait for him to wake up so you can both post at the same time. As for now, you rest your head on his shoulder to also take a nap. Harry stirs and drowsily slaps his hand onto your knee to keep you close.

You'll miss Italy's golden sunsets, good-natured people, and ethereal views. However, the thought of going home and beginning a new chapter with your fiancé doesn't sound too bad. 

Bliss, in all its glory, takes hold once again.

——

[chapel-of-rizztual]

Oh no im back like a house mouse that nibbles your cereal boxes that you think you caught but never really will :]

(Begging for prompt #59 part 2, Mountain rocks Phantoms shit; electric boogaloo)

Seeing as all of two people asked for a part 2 for the Mountain rut ficlet, a part 2 had been delivered!

Phantom whimpers and smirks at him. “That a promise?”  He’s pushed into the kitchen counter chest first, the hand on his hair forces his head down so his cheek is pressed against the cold marble. His sweatpants are down by his ankles before even realises it and Mountain is leaning over him, his body fully covering his.

“No.” Mountain growls into his ear, licking along the shell. “That was a threat.”

Phantom moans, his back arching, his tail coming up to rest high over his hip. The smell of Mountain’s rut was making his head spin already, the need to submit and be bred and be good was crawling in his veins. Mountain kicks Phantom’s legs apart, immediately grinding his cock into the cleft of his ass. “Submitting to me already? Aren’t you a good boy.”

Phantom moans again, pushing his hips back into Mountain, his tail hiking itself up even higher.

The hand in his disappears and he feels two sets of hands on either side his hips, pulling his ass up. His ass get pulled up so high he had to stand on the very tips of his toes, his feet barely touching the floor.

He lets out a strangled sound, feeling breathless already. “I-Mount, I can’t-“

He’s cut off my Mountain snarling at him and biting the back of his neck.

“Shut up.” He growls into his ear again. “I don't need to you to speak, I just need you to let me do what I want to you.” Phantom let’s out a cry, Turing his head to allow Mountain’s fangs to graze over his scent glad just like before. “Good boy.”

Phantom moans out feeling himself slump against the counter.

Mountain ruts the head of his cock against Phantom's hole and Phantom lets out a panicked squeak thinking for a second that Mountain is about to force his cock inside him dry. He tries to wiggle away from him but Mountain’s grip on his hips tightens with a low growl. “Stop moving. You’re meant to be good and let me use you.”

“Mount-I- please, lube, you need lube.” Phantom pants against the counter.

Mountain growls again and mutters something Phantom can’t hear properly but he stands up from behind Phantom. “Stay.” He barks at him as he rummages through the kitchen cupboards for something that could be used as lube.

Phantom doesn’t move a muscle as he listens to Mountain growl and slam doors. There’s a bottle of something slammed down next to Phantom and Mountain is leaning back over him, covering os back fully with his body. “That better be good enough for you, princess, because that’s all you’re getting.”

The bottle of something turns out to be olive oil but before Phantom can say anything about it theres two slicked fingers rubbing over his hole before pushing their way into him. He moans, unable to help himself as Mountain hits his prostate immediately. Mountain doesn’t waste any time, only thrusting his fingers into him for a couple of beats before he’s pulling back and tapping the head of his cock against Phantom’s hole. “You better have been serious when you said I can hurt you.” Mountain groans into his ear as he pushes himself in in one long thrust. Phantom screams at the feeling of Mountain breaching his asshole, the burning stretch making him screw his eyes and his legs kick. He feels like the breath gets knock out from his lungs as Mountain just keeps going, keeps pushing into him, until finally- finally- he bottoms out, his knot bumping against Phantom.

“Ah-shit, fuck-mount-oh.” Phantom’s hands scrape down the marble surface, his claws digging in and scratching deep lines. “So big, fuck Mount- didn’t-didn’t think you’d feel like this.”

Mountain licks at the side of his neck, right over his scent gland and rolls his hips in small circles, pushing his knot harder against Phantom’s entrance. “What’s wrong, little bird? Overestimated yourself a little?”

“No, no-fuck- feels so good, hurts so good.” Phantom feels like he can hardly breathe, his cheeks feel wet already but he doesn’t remember when he started crying.

Mountain growls in response, grabbing at Phantom’s hips even harder, pulling him up even more. “Satan, you’re such a whore, I would have fucked you sooner if I knew you’d be like this.” Mountain pulls all the way and slams himself all the way back in. Phantom screams again, his wet eyes rolling back into his skull. Mountain grabs the base of his tail, pulling his ass up even higher. Phantom squeaks as his feet get lifted off the ground and hand limply off the counter. He kicks his legs as Mountain pulls all the way out again and slams himself back in, making the earth ghoul snarl at him and bite the back of his neck. “Stop fucking moving. Stay still and let me use you.”

Phantom falls limp against the counter as Mountain starts to thrust into him with a speed that has him crying out again, more tears streaming down his cheeks. “That’s it, good boy.” Mountain bites the back of his neck again pinning him Down, his other hand keeping a firm grasp on the base of his tail. Phantom’s legs swing with each powerful thrust of Mountain and he lets out little ‘uh, uh, uh’s’, unable to make any other sound as he feels like Mountain is truly ruining him. Mountain’s tail wraps around his thigh and pulls his legs further apart and he growls as he’s able to thrust deeper into Phantom. His knot gets bumped against Phantom's hole and he howls out, his head rolling to the side so he can see Mountain from the corner of his eyes. “M-mountain!” He gasps open mouthed. Mountain release his jaw from Phantom’s neck, but his other hand comes up and pressing against the back of his neck to hold him into place. “Yeah? Can you feel that?” He’s out of breath, his thrusts hard and unrelenting. “Can you feel my knot?” “Yes, shit, Mountain please. Need it, please knot me.” He cried out, feeling Mountain’s cock twitch inside him. “Gunna lock you on it.” Mountain’s hips snap forward particularly hard. “Gunna fill you up, fucking breed you.” Phantom sobs, suddenly feeling overwhelmed as he tires to rut his very hard cock onto surface below him. “You’ll look so pretty filled with my kits, nice and round and fat.” Mountain’s thrusts slow to a grind feeling his knot throb as it expands even more. “Maybe I’ll keep you knocked up, keep you full of my kits so everyone knows who you belong too.” Phantom whimpers, feeling his thighs start to shake as he feels his orgasm building in the pit of his belly. “Please- oh fuck- Mount, please knot me. I’m yours, own me.”

“Gunna bend you over every surface in this den, keep you full of me until it sticks.” Mountain licks up the shell of his ear, his knot throbbing just on the cusp of popping. “You’re mine, little bird. I’ll show you off to the others, show them how well you take me, how you let me breed you.” Phantom cums completely unexpectedly, his cock trapped between his belly and cold hard surface of kitchen counter, kicks and spurts coating his belly and making a sticky puddle on the surface. Behind him Mountain all but howls, throwing his head back as he jackhammers into him. Phantom cries out, feeling sensitive from having just cum, but it only last a second before Mountain is gasping out and grabbing at his hips so hard he’s leaving scratch marks. “Fuck, fuck, fucking take it, take my knot.” Mountain’s knot pops into Phantom as he cums hotly into him with a long groan. If Phantom thought he was full before he was wrong. He feels Mountain’s knot expand fully and lock inside him and for a brief second he wonders if it’ll actually fit. Mountain groans again, resting his forehead on Phantom’s back. “That’s it, so good for me, taking it so well. My good boy.” Phantom moans, feeling Mountain still cuming inside him. “I-fuck, Mountain.” “Satan, you feel so good, so perfect, Phant.” Mountain kisses him between his shoulder blades. Phantom looks back at Mountain as best he can from his position. “I hope you weren’t lying when you said you’d bend me over every surface on here because you are so, so, Fucking me like that again.” Mountain let’s out a small laugh. “You’re insufferable, you know that.” Phantom grins at him, wiggling his ass on Mountain’s knot making them both hiss. “Don’t think you’ve managed to knock me up yet. Mountain growls one again, nipping at the back of Phantom’s neck. “Don’t tease me, little bird. I’m just getting started with you.”

[inoreuct]

zosan angst 👀 post whole cake island where zoro is mad for sanji not relying on him enough to help with his family drama. swears to become a better man for him. sanji thinks zoro is the ideal man (he’ll never tell him this though) and doesn’t have to deal with his family drama bc he can “solve it himself” they fight, their screams are heard by the whole ship who is all negatively effected by it. they come to the point of throwing punches (something sanji would never do outside of this intense monent). zoro grabs sanji by them shirt, gets sanji down on his knees, and is hitting him in the face. sanji stops hitting him back and breaks down crying, zoro sees this and stops being angry instantly.

“why can’t you just let me help you”, zoro wants to understand.

sanji’s sobs echo through the room his nose running with blood and tears, “ i never thought i was worthy of being saved.”

zoro’s eyes widen. sanji gasps out through tears, “im sorry”.

something breaks within zoro, he kneels to sanji’s level, and holds him tightly as he sobs into his neck

“i’m sorry too. you are worth more to me than you could ever think.”

zoro take’s sanji’s face into his rough calloused hands, wiping away the blood and tears, “let me me be there for you”.

i swear this prompt grabbed my brain cells and SPRINTED bcs this was slightly more than 1.6k words,,, thank you anon 🤭🤌🏼

Zoro catches a heel to the jaw, lets it whip his head to the side and rolls as he hits the deck. 

His blood is a metallic bloom in his mouth, rose-red as it splatters across the planks and drips from his chin. He’s half sure he just lost a tooth. He’s very sure he bit his tongue. 

He thinks he rather deserves this pain, even if he’s not exactly sure why.

It had started when they were back on the Sunny, after the whole shitshow on Whole Cake Island; Zoro had paced about the deck, strung tight as a tripwire, still itching with the urge to look over his shoulder and around the corners and unwilling to take his hand off Wado’s hilt.

He’d retreated to the men’s quarters alone, too wound up to seek out Sanji’s usual company as waited his turn for the shower and then scrubbed until his skin turned raw. He’d changed into clean clothes and lay down on his bed, put his hands behind his head, tried to breath in time with the gentle rocking of the ocean and found something still binding his lungs tight.

He was safe. They were safe. And yet, it had still felt like his skin was crawling. 

After tossing and turning for a good twenty minutes he’d given up trying to fall asleep and hauled himself out of bed, trudging to the galley for a glass (or a bottle, more like) of whatever liquor he could get his hands on. The ship had swayed as he’d grabbed a half-filled bottle of scotch, bumping the door shut properly with his hip because he knew Sanji was finicky about it.

He’d hesitated before going back to the shared cabin. His bed hadn’t been the only one empty, and there was cigarette smoke rising from the helm. 

Sanji had barely reacted when he’d settled beside the cook, elbows propped on the railing as he took a swig of his drink. It went down easy; everything Sanji had always did. Some nights Zoro found himself wishing for more of a burn if only to help him feel something. 

He’d eyed Sanji out of the edge of his vision, tongueing behind his canines as he noticed the way the cook’s hair was all over his face, more so than usual. Both his eyes— no, not his eyes, Zoro had realised. Both his eyebrows were covered—

And it had sunk in slowly, like a lead weight to the bottom of the ocean. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he’d muttered, half to the mouth of his bottle, and Sanji had sighed.

“What do you mean, marimo?”

“You know what I mean.”

And Sanji had. He’d tilted his head, taking in a bracing breath, lips pinched in something that was supposed to be a smile. “Not your battle to fight.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Zoro had snarled, suddenly angry, and it made him dig his nails into the peeling paper label beneath his fingers. “You— We do this shit together, curly, that’s what we agreed—”

And Sanji had turned away silently, pushing off the railing and walking off to God knew where, and Zoro had grabbed his wrist before he’d realised what he was doing.

“Do you just not trust me?” he’d gritted, desperation sharpening his tongue, a little voice wailing in his head and sounding a bit too much like his younger self for his liking. 

Sanji had barked a laugh, burning his cigarette down to a stub in one long inhale. “Now that’s bullshit.”

“Then? What?” I’d do anything, is what he hadn’t said. Anything for you to let me in. Let me help. 

“It’s not your fight, alright? Just leave it.”

Zoro had wanted to scream, just a little. He’d been distantly aware that his grip was in danger of crushing the bottle but he hadn’t cared at all. Sanji had shoved him away when he hadn’t let the matter go (because how could he?), and he’d shoved back, and then it had escalated until they were fighting across the deck and now—

He snaps out of his head when Sanji screams, a ragged thing torn out of his chest, abandoning all reason to tackle him bodily to the ground. Zoro stumbles and hits the deck hard, pain flaring sharp as his elbow jams into the ground and a fist sinks into his gut. He’s snarling as he rolls them over, as he pins Sanji’s wrists to the ground and lets out a grunt when a kneecap catches him beneath the ribs.

“Why can’t you just stay out of it?!” Sanji yells, right in his face, hair a mess and eyes wilder than Zoro has ever seen up close.

He falters. Just for a moment, but it’s more than enough for Sanji to slip out of his grip and wriggle away, and the pit in his gut grows ever larger. “They hurt you! They were hurting you!” he roars, scrambling to his feet, and it rather feels like someone has a crushing hand wrapped around his heart.

“It doesn’t matter!” the cook cries, swinging a fist towards his face, and Zoro dodges. Sidesteps, slams a foot down behind Sanji’s kneecaps and slugs his knuckles across a pale cheek if only to snap Sanji out of whatever the fuck is going on, he raises his fist again and—

Freezes. Bile crawls up his throat as his heart sinks. Sanji’s eyes are wet, so blue they’re nearly glowing in the darkness, and Zoro is so, so tired. He vaguely registers the rest of the crew behind them and he angles his body to hide Sanji from view; he knows the cook would hate their nakama seeing him like this. The hand he has wrapped in Sanji’s collar loosens, falling away like fluttering paper, and he drops to his knees with a heavy thunk.

Sanji shudders, and Zoro feels sick. His — he doesn’t know what they are, but Sanji is his — cook’s cheekbone is already bruising, blooming purple-pink, and guilt sinks its claws into his stomach. “Why can’t you just let me help you?” he hears himself plead, breathless and choked, and Sanji smiles with blood across his teeth.

“Because I never thought I was worthy of being saved,” he whispers, looking down at his trembling hands. There are tears dripping off his chin now, luminous streaks down his face that suddenly looks haggard in the starlight. “And I never wanted you to see me like this.”

Zoro thinks he breaks. Shatters right apart like the bottle of scotch on the ground not far away from them, amber seeping sticky into the wood. He’d have to apologise to Franky later, he thinks a little wildly, throat tight and fingers numb as he reaches out to pull Sanji to him.

The cook goes slack like a puppet off strings, hiding his face in the crook of Zoro’s neck as he really starts to cry. Zoro sits back on his heels and takes his weight, cards a hand through his hair so that it doesn't stick because he knows that Sanji would make a fuss about it being all over his face later, and it’s these tiny, trivial things that wrench a hollow sound from his lungs. “There’s no such thing as it not being my fight, you hear me?” It comes out more watery that he likes, but the laugh-sob Sanji lets out tells him the message got across. “If it’s your fight, it’s my fight. I’m with you till the end no matter what happens.”

“It’s pathetic,” Sanji hiccups, shoulders hitching as he tries to get himself under control.

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m pa—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Zoro hisses, at odds with the way he rubs a soothing palm over Sanji’s back. His knees are starting to hurt. He doesn’t care. “They hurt you. They put you through some fucked-up shit, cook, and then you had to go through it again. And you were strong enough to make it out but you— You could stand to give it a rest, alright?”

It’s times like this when he wishes he could be better with words, because Sanji looks a little like he might start crying all over again when Zoro takes a peek at his face. He presses his thumbs flat to wet skin, salt cooling in the night wind, dragging up along Sanji’s cheek as the cook sniffs. “Let me be there for you,” he rasps.

He feels like he’s been scraped raw from the inside out. Like someone had hollowed him out with a ladle and now his guts were spilling all across the deck. He doesn’t know how to describe the twisting in his chest when he thumbs rust-red iron away from Sanji’s bottom lip, regretfully cups the spill of colour spreading over the right side of his face. “Look at me?” he tries again, and Sanji does, fine lashes clumped with tears and inhale trembling. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, and Zoro is an open wound, raw and weeping as Sanji climbs into his lap and curls up into a ball. 

“You are worth so much. To the crew, to our friends—You’re worth more to me than you could ever know. So shut up and stop trying to deal with it alone,” he says in lieu of a reply, achingly quiet. He hopes it’s enough as Sanji digs lithe fingers into his shoulder. 

He welcomes the pain like an old friend. Bears it gladly, for if he could take all of Sanji’s he would. 

But he can’t— So he tries. Tries to be gentle, as much as he knows how, sits properly and folds his legs and rocks them back and forth because it helps Sanji’s breathing even out. Traces the spirals of his eyebrows and brushes his mouth over the bruise on his cheek, presses his silent apologies into skin.

Sanji’s spine bows beneath his hands, and the cook’s fingers are wound tight into the back of his shirt like it’s a lifeline. His pale hair tickles Zoro’s jaw, impossibly mussed and starting to curl with the sea air. Their crew is waiting. Worried, surely, but they can wait a little longer; Zoro will make it up to them.

For now, he thinks he and Sanji have earned this. 

fin.

[sxcret-garden]

Jeno ღ 8:16pm [M]

ღ NCT Dream Jeno x fem!reader ღ words: ~800 ღ genre: smut (dom!Jeno, oral (idol receiving), fingering, hair pulling (reader receiving), unprotected sex, reader has a praise kink) ღ warnings: none

The sound that escapes you as you gag on his cock is rather pathetic, and it makes the look in his eyes flare up with lust. Jeno is clenching his teeth as he looks down at you, nestled in between his legs, and time and time again his grip on your hair tightens. Everytime your mouth sinks back down on his length, he pushes you a little further towards him, which is how you ended up like this, tears in the corners of your eyes and your core aching from how much it turns you on when he takes control. You come back up and let him push you down again the next second, gagging as his tip hits the back of your throat. He groans from the feeling of your mouth wrapped around him, and when you ready yourself for the next thrust, he suddenly yanks at your hair, pulling you off him. You pant as you look up at him, awaiting what he would do next.

“Come up here, baby,” he demands as he pats his thighs, and without missing a beat you crawl into his lap. His hands fly to your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh as you desperately wait for his next command. “Want to cum inside you,” he mumbles, pressing his lips against the skin right beneath your earlobe, and in the next moment one of his hands lets go of you to reach between your legs, effortlessly slipping two fingers inside you. You moan when he pumps them in and out of you a few times.

“I can’t believe just blowing me got you this wet,” Jeno mutters under his breath, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck. “Dirty girl.” You moan again, at the way his fingers are working you, and also at the way he just addressed you. However, when he removes his hand to return it to its original position on your hip, you whine and he shushes you, brushing his lips against yours in a feathery light kiss.

“No need to be so sad, my baby,” he coos, relishing the way you’re batting your eyelashes at him with so much need in your gaze. “I can give you something much better than my fingers. Do you want that?”

“Yeah,” you answer.

“Then say it. What do you want?" 

"Your cock,” you whine, and his facial expression does nothing to hide just how much more horny it makes him to hear you spell it out for him. “Want your cock inside me.”

“That’s my dirty girl,” he says, making it sound like a praise while he lifts his hand up to your face and he runs his thumb across your bottom lip. “My perfect girl,” he adds. “Come ride me.” You nod obediently, and in no time you sink down on his length, letting out a sigh and throwing your head back as you effortlessly glide down on him. He fits you so perfectly, that you only need a few rolls of your hips to have him all the way inside you. With your arms wrapped around his neck and your hips all settled in his lap, you shoot him a pleading look, waiting for him to allow you to move. Without the need for words he nods at you, giving you the starting sign, and you begin to ride him at a slow pace. He connects your lips in a deep kiss while you’re still moving at a low speed, but soon he holds onto your hips tightly, leading you over to a faster pace. You moan, causing you to break the kiss, and strings of whines and curses fall from your lips.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” Jeno groans through gritted teeth, and you can only answer with another moan of his name.

“Feels so good…” you babble, “so good to have your cock inside me…” He lets out another grunt before sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin on your neck, and you cry out from the pleasure and the pain. Arching your back a bit so that his tip grazes that sweet spot deep inside you everytime you rock your hips against his fills you with bliss, and when he starts to buck his hips up into yours, coming close to his high himself, you feel yourself going crazy.

You cry out as you cum around him, clenching on his length and shivering in his hold, and even after riding out your orgasm you don’t stop moving your hips.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Jeno groans again, and with a moan right next to your ear he fills you up with his load.

He kisses you as soon as you’ve both somewhat come down from your highs, and with his strong arms wrapped around you, he eventually lets himself fall backwards onto the bed.

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby,” he mutters once more, this time with a softer voice and he runs his knuckles over your cheek and along your jaw. “So fucking perfect.”

[tpwkwriter]

omg imagine being in subspace and you’re just so incoherent and harry is just holding you and telling you how good you are for him and he notices how you’re trying to suck on his thumb and he just sticks it in your mouth and is like “is that what you wanted princess? you’re so good for me” like holy shit 🥺🥵#Concept

Like a good girl.

Had to use LHH for this one! 🖤

You just know even though he wants to be dominating and in charge, seeing his girl fold for him would make him melt.😩

Had to make a short fic of this!! 🙃

this is in no way sexualising harry at all!! Please I’m terrible at smut so I’ve tried to conceal it to very basic and focus on y/n’s subspace!!!!!💛

Warnings: smutty nature, dom!harry, sub!y/n

— — — — —

Y/n’s back was flat against the bed, arching ever so often when a spot was hit.

“Harry” she whined.

“What Baby” he replied, dipping his head back down to her sensitive area.

“Shit” she hissed at his pleasurable touch.

“I-I, fuck”

“Speak up doll”

They had been going for what felt like hours, H was determined to get the best out of her that he could.

“Y’ can take it, jus’ one more” he said, dipping his tongue to her core.

His ringed, veiny hands locked with her on the mattress as he acted upon the girl.

Her legs slowly started to shake, he knew this would mean she wasn’t far off of her climax.

“N-n-Need you inside h-h” she moaned hoping he would hear her plea.

“Is that right?” He said, removing his hands from hers and running them along her exposed frame.

“Mmhmm” she adamantly nodded.

“Well i suppose you have been a good girl f’me”

He crawled up from beneath her legs. He kneeled at the perfect level and allowed her legs to go over each shoulder, her lower back raised slightly as he took hold of her bottom half.

Y/n was already feeling floaty, the excitement, the adrenaline, the faint exhaustion, the way Harry could make her feel.

“Ready doll” he asked, staring her in the eyes

“Mmhmm mhmm” she hummed, nodding her head excitedly in anticipation.

“Oh my needy girl” he pouted.

“M’gonna give you exactly what y’want” he said his fingers lightly dancing over her chest.

“God” she hissed.

“Please” she whined.

“Enough waiting” she adds, her eyes tightly squeezing together.

“M’kay my needy one”

Without another word, he inserts himself into the girl.

“Fuck” he panted.

His hips moved at a reasonable pace, speeding up as he went along.

“Harry” she cried hands pushing deeper into the mattress.

“This what you wanted huh?” He pants, keeping his hips movement going.

“This what you wanted princess?” He taunts

“Y’just wanted me to fill you up?”

“Closer” she breathes out.

“Closer?” He questions, trying to keep his composure.

“I wanna hol- hold you” she dryly moaned out.

“Y’want more”

“M’baby girls always so needy, need all of me hey?” He teased.

Trying not to waste too much time, he reluctantly removed himself from the girl causing a whine to emit from her throat.

“Needy, needy, needy, he tuts.

He places both palms on each side next to the girls head, aligned himself with her and once again.

“Fuck doll” he hissed.

“Y’so Perfect” he said leaning his forehead on hers.

Her hips arched up to gain more friction.

Feeling her walls tighten he knew the climax was approaching.

“Harry” she whined.

“Haaarryyy” she shrilled even more.

The moans filling the room caused both of there arousal to increase.

“Wa-“ she began.

“Want y-your fin-gers in m’mouth” she finished.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” she continued.

He gently dropped his weight on the girl continuing to rock his hips on hers.

His rings made the girl shiver at the touch, his index finger and middle finger dances on her rosey lips, and slowly slipped into her mouth.

“Can y’still taste y’self” he whispered in her ear, causing shivers to run down her spine.

— — — — —

I’m so sorry 😭😭 I didn’t not know how to finish this at all ahhhhhh❤️

[x-reader-theater]

Breaking and Entering {2}

summary: Ghost comes back and you didn't know if he would.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Gender Neutral!Reader

word count: 1319

warnings: Passive mentions to suicidal ideation but nothing explicit is said.

a/n: there will probably be one more of these more boring chapters before some more exciting stuff happens. my requests are open and you can find my request rules here.

Breaking and Entering Series: {Chapter 1}, {Chapter 2}, (You can also use the tag #breaking and entering series as well if you don't want to use links)

You’re sitting in your kitchen again. You haven’t done this in a long while. Most nights you’re so tired you crawl into bed with your work clothes still on and fall asleep. But you didn’t have work today, the one thing that gets you to leave your flat. So you’ve been sitting in your kitchen, doing some catch up work that you have been putting off, when you hear a knock on the window you just had fixed.

Your head snaps toward the sound, and you stand up from the table. You quietly make your way to the window and bend down to open it. A skull pops into view and you yelp, stumbling back, but you start laughing when you realise who it is. Your heart constricts in your chest as you open the window, giggling.

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me!” you exclaim, still laughing as you sit on the ground, scooting back away from the large military man with a skull mask, not out of fear, but just because he takes up so much space.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Ghost says gruffly.

You take a few deep breaths, wiping underneath your eyes. A beat passes before you mutter, “I didn’t know if you were coming back.”

“I said I would,” Ghost says, kneeling down and offering you a hand with black fingerless gloves on.

You take it and he hauls you off the floor with a strength that is clearly covered by all the gear he’s wearing. You hold on to Ghost’s hand, feeling the roughness of his fingers and skin, almost as rough as the gloves he’s wearing. When you look back up at Ghost, you see he’s staring at you with a curious look.

You snatch your hand away and chuckle nervously, scratching the back of your head. “Ah, well, you did break into my apartment. How was I supposed to know you’d actually keep your word…” you trail off, looking away from Ghost and biting your lip. “It’s been a few weeks… I could feel myself almost hitting rock bottom again…”

“But you didn’t,” Ghost says, gentler than you’ve ever heard him speak before, and your eyes snap up and meet his.

“No. I didn’t.” You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I think I was looking forward to seeing you again. I think I would have waited forever.”

“At least you would have waited,” Ghost replies instantly.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest. It’s so loud against your sternum you’re afraid you’re going to crack a rib. You swear that as you look into them, Ghost’s eyes are a swirling brown and gold.

This time it’s Ghost who looks away first with a clearing of his throat. “Have you eaten?” Ghost walks over to your kitchen table.

“Uh, no, not yet,” you say, following after him slowly.

He places a brown paper bag you never noticed before on the table before sitting in one of the only two chairs. He starts unpacking the bag and you realise it’s Indian from the place down the road.

“How did you scale my building with a take away bag in your hand?” you ask, walking toward the kitchen table.

“Classified,” is all he says and you chuckle, sitting down across from him. You think you see his eyes crinkle and can only assume he’s smiling under the balaclava.

“You’re such a prick,” you say, grabbing the naan and digging into the food. You didn’t know you were hungry until you smelled the food.

“Yeah yeah,” Ghost says. You have to assume there’s someone else in his life who calls him a prick as well. He sits down across from you and lifts the bottom of his balaclava. You stare for a moment, seeing the scarring around his lips and the one through them, bisecting them and leaving his mouth in a permanent snear. Ghost’s eyes snap to yours and you look back down at the food in front of you, feeling your face flush. Not in shame, but in embarrassment, and attraction. “Fuck, this is good.”

You look up again to see him devouring his own food, and you smile. “Yeah, I think this is the best Indian you can get around here.”

“Not just around here, try the whole country!” Ghost exclaims, and you chuckle. He’s in a good mood tonight.

“What did you get?” you ask through a mouthful of food.

“Chicken Tikka,” he says around an equally full mouthful of food.

You roll your eyes and scoff. “You are so British,” you say with a chuckle.

“And you’re not?” Ghost asks, his eyes boring into yours.

You shrug, not giving an answer one way or another. Ghost continues to stare at you, and you shift in your seat, looking away from his eyes as you mutter, “It’s classified.”

When you look back, Ghost seems to have accepted this with a nod, and has gone back to eating his food. You let out a breath at the tension and eat as well, though slower this time than before.

The two of you eat in silence, the only sounds being the two of you chewing and any sounds that filter in from the city outside. When you finish eating, you lean back in your chair and ask, “Why are you here? Are you on like, a mission or something? And don’t say classified, I don’t even have anyone to tell.”

Ghost chuckles. “No, I’m not on a mission. I… had some leave saved up and my CO made me take it,” he explains. “I thought I could stop by.”

“Why the getup? Why come through my window?” you ask.

Ghost answers both questions. “I thought you wouldn’t recognise me.”

You look at him, leaned back in your chair, eyes hooded from satisfaction from a good meal and maybe even something a little like lust, and you reply, “I don’t think I could ever not recognise you.”

You keep your eye contact with Ghost, his eyes staring into and through you. You think he can see every emotion you’ve ever felt for him, and you can almost believe it’s the same the other way. There’s so much information filtering into your mind that you can’t parse through it with any sort of clarity.

The sound of a police siren blaring outside shocks you from your staring, and you blink. When you open your eyes, Ghost is standing, starting to clean up the mess on the table.

“You have to go?” you ask, trying not to let the disappointment in your voice show through.

Ghost nods. “I’m not even technically supposed to be here. I have to check in with my CO when I’m where I’m where meant to be for leave in a couple hours…”

You nod. “Will you come again?”

Ghost pauses, before looking up at you and saying, “I try my hardest.”

Something in you lifts from your shoulders and you nod. “Yeah. I-I’d like that.”

Ghost nods once, cleaning up the table to the best of his ability, before walking back over to the window.

You follow, bending down to open it again when you ask, “Why don’t you just take the front door?”

“I can’t be seen in this on security cameras,” Ghost explains, and you nod in understanding. “But, next time, I’ll knock on the front door.”

You smile at him and pull the window open, allowing Ghost to slip out. You watch as he jumps from your window to the fire escape across the street, grabbing on and lifting himself up. It surprises you how nimble he is as he deftly and quietly hauls himself up and onto the opposite building, disappearing on the building’s roof.

You close the window and watch out the window for a few more minutes before walking away, wondering when the next time you’ll see him is.

[causewayguy]

'Pleaseeeeee, tell me where Jie Jie keep my Switchhh! 🥺🥺🥺'

Jon's sister in law, Kelly, has been bugging him the entire morning. His wife has had it with Kelly's gaming addiction and took away her console. Before she left for a work conference abroad, Jon's wife smiled sweetly at Jon and said 'If Kelly gets to have her fun, you won't get your fun when I get back next week ya'. That's wifey material for you... 

That's why Jon die die didn't give into Kelly's begging. But it's no easy task... It was a week since he had sex with his wife because of Kelly, who started staying over after her graduation. Making things worse, Kelly is forever in a flimsy top and boy shorts. Jon has been in marikita state for too long without any proper release (tfk don't count guys).

'No way sia, don't sabo me. If your sister knows I let you play, next week I can order coffin liao'

'Next week??!? Walao can la kor! You give me play now then I confirm finish before she come back. Please laaa, qiu qiu ni! I will do anything, really anything at alllll! Pleaseeee'

Kelly clinged onto Jon like a panda, her boobs squeezing his arms like two pillows. Jon felt something stirring in his pants as he stared down at the heavenly sight of his SIL. Kelly continued begging Jon for a minute, continuously rubbing her nubile body on his. So this is what heaven is like... Before he lost his mind and do something he regretted, Jon relented and revealed his wife's hiding place. Kelly screamed in delight, hugged and kissed Jon before running to get the Switch.

Jon breathed a sigh of relief as Kelly did not feel his 6 inch hard rod poking her. He quickly went to take a cold shower before heading to the gym to calm things down and increase the distance between him and this temptation of SIL.

It was late afternoon when Jon returned home, thinking all his pent up energy was released in the gym. Lo and behold, Kelly was laying flat on the living room couch. The sight of her milky body in black top and white panties immediately shot Jon's cock to attention harder than before.

After the Switch ran out of battery and she couldn't find the charger, Kelly dozed off on the sofa, dreaming of Pokemons and gym battles. A shadow fell over her face which woke her up. Rubbing her eyes, she is still rather drowsy when she saw a tall dark figure in front of her. Kelly slid her hand into Jon’s pants and felt a long leatherly bulge, growing bigger and bigger.

'An Arbok! Finally! I want to catch you!'

Kelly tried to hold Jon’s cock down with her tiny hands but also letting it slipped through her fingers. The harder she tugged, the bigger and angrier it gets. Suddenly, Kelly pulled down Jon’s shorts. 'I have destroyed your defense! Now I use mouth-ball!'

Jon groaned loudly as Kelly gave a surprise BJ. At first, she slowly savoured Jon’s cock, taking her time to lick, kiss and suck on it. She sucked on the tip and did a few quick bobs. Kelly’s tongue constantly flicked across the bottom of Jon’s cock, making it tighter and wetter for him. Jon moaned out in satisfaction and stepped back a step. Unwilling to let go, Kelly kneeled and crawled closer to Jon with his cock still in her mouth.

'You are not escaping that easily! Quick attack!'

Being at the perfect height kneeling down, Kelly launched her gawk gawk 3000. Every thrust made Jon’s cock hit the back of her throat, and Kelly started to gag. Saliva was starting to pool around Kelly’s lips and dripped down to her blouse. The hall was filled with the erotic squishy sounds with loud slurping and chocking sounds. Jon almost lost it there. Even his wife’s best BJ skill could not hold against what her sister’s mouth is doing to his cock now. Quickly, Jon pushed Kelly back onto the sofa and stepped towards her.

‘Arbok seemed to have used harden and, shit, preparing for a body slammmmmm ah ahh aahh!!!’

Jon pulled Kelly’s panties aside and started slamming his rock hard cock into her. This was his dream. He was fucking his sister-in-law, out in the open living room with the curtains all open. Most importantly, he was fucking her raw! Unprotected sex with a fresh college grad! It has been awhile since Jon felt such warmth and tightness engulfing his cock. The harder he thrusted into Kelly, the tighter and wetter she got. The lewd sounds echoed across the hall as the both of them made all kinds of moaning, mewing and cursing.

Kelly was not a virgin, but her last experience was loooong time ago. Hence, when Jon’s 6 inch penetrated her, she cummed. The feeling of hot meat brushing against her pussy wall, going deep inside her was so sensual and mind blowing. And when Jon did not stop his hard fucking as she came, the pleasure doubled as her pussy was more sensitive. Ever thrust was met with Kelly’s ‘Ahh!’ and ‘uhh!’, only stopping when they frenched.

As they were on missionary, Jon has complete control over Kelly. Her hands were grasping at the smooth sofa but has not grip on it. Jon took over and held both Kelly’s arms in front of her top, squeezing her perfect melons together. This caused Kelly’s boob to bounce even harder with the hard fuck Kelly was getting. Jon salivated at the sight of him ravaging his sister-in-law, her body being trashed in whichever direction he wanted.

One hand grabbing her arms and another squeezing her boob, Jon felt the familiar tugging sensation in his balls. Instead of slamming his entire weight onto her, Jon thrusted with speed and precision, making sure his entire length was continuously going in and out of Kelly. Feeling the difference, Kelly seemed to understand the situation and held onto Jon’s waist tightly with her legs. She even felt his cock getting bigger inside her and she whimpered at Jon, nodding her head at Jon, willing him to do it.

‘Give! Me! Your! Ar-fuckkkk!’

At the last moment, Jon squeezed his core and completely unleashed himself inside Kelly. He felt his every ejaculation, when his cum exited with force and completely drenched Kelly’s pussy, every squeezing by Kelly’s tight, warm pussy. He shot at least 5 times before relaxing into Kelly’s arm. After several rounds of orgasm, Kelly had only a minor one when Jon finished inside of her. It was the feeling of Jon’s cum shooting deep inside her that made her felt full and truly fucked that she came for the last time. They both were in total bliss for at least a minute, breathing into each other’s ears.

‘Kor~ *huff* I captured your Arbok *puff* Later can I try your Onyx…? *rubs* I want to catch them all before Jie comes home...'