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#it’s written out i just don’t want to start it cause now i’m changing minor details of the story

roseychains · 2 months

Note

Bone jaw٫ could you maybe pretty please do a thick thigh reader with jk men 👉👈 smut of fluff doesn't matter to me cause all I want is to finally see a thick thigh reader cause I never do its fine if you dont tho thanks for doing/considering this!

Jjk men with a reader with thick thighs ~

A/n: I’m literally sobbing I accidently clicked out of this tab and it erased everything I had done 😕 it’s okay tho I rewrote it all

C/w: everything is fluffy. Maybe slightly suggestive in getos & toji? But nothing smutty.

Bonus Gojo smut at the end, c/w: written by a minor, thigh fucking, somno but he wakes you up to ask for consent. Needy Gojo.

Gojo: his love language is physical touch. He can’t keep his hands off you, esspecially your thighs. The bigger the better, I can imagine him using your thighs as pillows. Being a jujutsu sorcerer is stressful and tiring, and being the strongest, naturally he has to take on the most begrudging tasks. Everyone has their own way to desensitize after a long day. His method just so happens to be falling asleep on his gorgeous wifes thighs while she plays with his hair. It’s just so comforting to him, a change of pace from his otherwise violent day.

Geto: geto is obsessed with your body. Especially your supple thighs. He’s handsy, and finds them incredibly attractive. He also finds himself unable to look away from him, he can’t help it. One of his favorite things is making out with you while your straddle his lap and your thighs rest on either side of his waist. It drives him insane, being able to hold not one but both of your lovely thighs in his hands while he kisses you.

Nanami: this man is such a provider, he can’t help but keep a gentle hand resting on your large thigh at all times. Sitting at a restaurant? His hand is on your thigh. Being his passenger princess? His hand is on your thigh. It’s not rough, just enough pressure for him to feel your skin and you to feel his hand. He wants you with him 24/7, and having his hand on you is a relief. He knows your right next to him, safe.

Toji: this man can pick you up and throw you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. And to him, you do. But one of his favorite things about carrying you in such a manor is your thighs draped over his abdomen. He will grab you buy the thighs and support you buy the thighs anytime he’d holding you. Be that pinning you against the wall, princess carrying you, or thrown over his shoulder, he’s holding you by your thighs.

Choso: he’s a big sensory guy. Whenever you guys are just laying around cuddling, he will poke and hold your thighs. He loves the way your skin feels to his fingers, how soft and pliant your thighs are, a nice contrast to all the sharp and rough feelings in the world. He’s fascinated , almost, absolutely lost in though when he’s touching your thighs. Start stroking his hair and he’s asleep. He’s just so cute

Bonus Gojo smut ~

Waking up in the middle of the night, with his cock throbbing in his boxers, he’s just so happy his lovely wife is beside him, wiling to help. He doesn’t want to wake you though or make you put in any work this time at night, so an idea pops into his head.

Rolling over and crawling on top of you, he’s pushing your hair gently away from your face, gently tapping your head till you squint your eyes open. “Pst.. I know it’s late, but I’m really fucking horny. Do you mind if I use your thighs?”

It takes you a minute to process what he just said, but after you understand what he’s saying, you nod your head, about to get up when he pushes you back down “nonono go back to sleep, I’ll be so gentle and quite you won’t even hear or see me. Please go back to sleep baby, I don’t need you to life a finger.” Leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“Mmm are you sure baby? I don’t helping” he nodded his head, cupping your face. “Your the sweetest love, but yes I’m sure. I don’t need an ounce of effort on your part, now go back to sleep sleeping beauty~” you nodded, closing your eyes and turning back to your side.

He returns to your back side, quickly freeing his member from his boxers, jerking himself a few times before lining himself up with your thighs, gently sliding his cock inbetween your plush thighs.

He began thrusting slowly, his tip poking out through your thighs, right over your panty covered clit. He kept his voice down, letting our soft moans as he pushed in and out of the space.

His thrusts sped up, rutting into the space between your thighs, needy hands grabbing your hips pulling himself as close to you as he could, and after a few, sloppy thrusts, he’s spitting thick ropes of cum out from between your legs, landing on the sheets and of course your thighs.

He puts his cock back in his boxers, pulling your body close to his, wrapping your body up in his, spooning you. Thinking to himself, “Eh. I’ll change the sheets in the morning.”

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calibabii21 · 8 months

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|| call me a jerk || johnny suh

pairing: dom!Johnny x fem brat!reader

genre: minor angst, smut, mature

warning(s): mean dom!johnny, choking, degradation, abs riding, tiddy sucking, fingering (vaginal and anal), overstimulation (reader)

wc: 1.13k

a/n: this literally came to me in a dream so, um, hope you like it heh..

You may as well move in at this point. Except you never will. Not after how big a point you made in denying the possibility of ever catching feelings. Yet every waking moment you find yourself longing to be right back here. In this man’s home.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” his hand rests on your bare thigh, “what’s got you all pent up in the face?” You contemplate spilling your thoughts entirely, but settle for a shrug as you play with his fingers. A heavy sigh leaves him as he slumps further into the sofa in his spacious bedroom, “don’t start this already.” And that instantly brings a deep frown to your face, “start what? And why do have such a tone with me?”

The looks at you with a raised eyebrows is full of attitude, “first of all,” his hand is moves from your thigh as he sits up at full height to face you, and grips your face, “who do you think you’re talking to? You don’t ever get to question me, got it sweetheart?” Your faces changes to a soft frown as you nod at him, “secondly, what’s got you all defensive and offended lately?” There’s a brief moment of silence before you let out a huff, “I just feel so stupid now.”

Confusion is written all over his face as he begins caressing your own, “I don’t follow.” You grit your teeth before taking a deep breath and mumbling, “I was wrong, about..not..catching feelings....” A beat of silence passes. Then another, before you look up at his face to see him holding in his laughter, “u-uh huh.” That was the last straw. Your 13th reason.

You stand up and collect your things as he doubles over in laughter, “fuck you, Johnny.” His name doesn’t even leave your lips fully before you’re flung over his shoulder and tossed onto his bed nearby, “sit your ass back down.” There’s not a peep from you as he takes his sweet time walking around the bedpost and climbs into his spot. “Come here.” A straight command with no extra context. You already knew what to do, so you did it.

“Why are you being a bad girl, huh?” you still say nothing as you straddle his hips, only staring at his shirtless torso. “Hey,” there’s a sharp slap to the side of your thigh, “I know you hear me, stop being such a brat.” That only gives you cause to act brattier. Whining as you throw a fit on top of him, “you’re being a dick,” you continue squirming, upset, until he bucks his hips up into you, drawing a gasp from your lips and a shudder down your spine. “I’m not acting like anything, you just want it.”

His crotch grinds against yours till you’re slightly panting before he stops, “but you don’t get it.” You protest and try to plead your case but he shuts you up with a flick to your nipple through his shirt you’re wearing. “No. You don’t deserve it.” Well there goes my relief, your thoughts are bitter as you respond to him, “what am I supposed to do then?” It seems he took a page from your book, seeing as all he did was shrug.

Assuming he’s instructing you to do all the work, you begin moving your hips against his groin, “Nope.” He shakes his head and grabs your waist, holding you in place, “I told you, you can’t have it.” You can feel your frustration growing, “well what the hell am I supposed to do!” That warrants a pinch to your ass, “watch your tone. and like I said, figure it out.”

You look around the room for something, anything, to get you off before you decide to shift your body higher onto his torso, and grind down. “Ohh,” a whimper leaves you at the relief from the friction. “Yeah? Feel good?” You nod your head eagerly and move your hips faster “M-Mhm.” You don’t even have to open your eyes to know that he's watching you with dancing eyes.

“I don’t believe this- look at you. So desperate you’re grinding your cunt on my fucking abs,” you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head in embarrassment. “Not to mention you’re so soaked you’re slipping.” His condescending chuckles as he tightly pinches your nipples cause you to choke out a moan, “m-more.” You can feel yourself right at the edge, “more.”

It comes out a demand rather than a request, “You want more? More of what, I’m not doing anything.” His fingers kneed your ass cheeks before his right hand slides to gather some of your wetness for lube, “You’re the one fucking yourself out on me.” You feel his middle finger circle your back hole, “You like it? Using Daddy’s body to feel good?” Torn between wanting more pressure on your clit and pushing back against his fingers, you whine incoherently.

His left hand wraps tight around your throat and squeeze as his finger begins prodding into your hole, “I asked you a question, little girl.” More friction it is. Grinding your hips down harder, your moans are constant, “Mmh yes, using Daddy’s body feels so- so gooood.” Your body spasms as an unexpected orgasm hits you, Johnny choosing that moment insert another finger in you.

“Tsk tsk tsk. You know that’s not how things go.” He sighs in false disappointment and removes his hand from your throat, opting to lift your shirt enough to expose your breasts, then move his hand down between your legs. “I’m sorry, ‘m sorry,” Your babbling worsens as his assault on both your ass and your pussy continues, “ ’m sorry Daddy, you feel too good.”

“Yeah? It feels good?” He coaxes babbles from you and coos, “aww my poor baby. Can you give me one more?” he asks even though you’ve already left a puddle on his abdomen from cumming a second time, “Daddy it hurts.” But your complaints are ignored, “it hurts yet you’re still humping me like a dumb little bunny in a frenzy.” His mean words egg on your desperation. “That’s what I thought. Be a good bitch for Daddy and give me another.”

He concludes his insult by latching his mouth onto your breasts, alternating sides, “fuck Daddy, you’re such a jerk.” He grins and bites down on your left nipple, which happens to be your most sensitive, “stupid little girl can’t even come up a good insult.” Next thing you know, his fingers are removed and your cheeks are being spread as he stretches you with the deliciousness of his thickness.

“You can call me a jerk all you want babygirl, I’ll still fuck you to tears and you’ll thank me for it like the horny cockslut we know you are.”

*mdni banner made by ©️cafekitsune*

#NCT #nct johnny #neocity_the_link_atl #nct johnny smut #NCT 127 #nct 127 johnny #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x black!reader #nct 127 x black reader #nct 127 x fem!reader #johnny suh #johnny suh smut #johnny suh hard hours #Z writes✍🏾#z's readers📖💞#is it johnny's babygirl or bitch🎀?#johnny's babygirl☺️🎀

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a-multi-fandom-maniac · 10 months

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Fearful Confession

(gif credit: bisexualrights)

Synopsis: You have been through it all with the Mandalorian and his son, forming an unbreakable bond and friendship. But your relationship changes after a close call with a bounty.

Warnings: Typical Star Wars violence/injuries, minor angst with comfort, arguing, fluff, no use of y/n, first person pov

Author note: PRAYING this isn’t too similar to anything else someone’s written before, this came from a dream i had LMAO😫. enjoy <3

———————————————————————————————————

The Razor Crest was silent, which was unusual.

Typically, there was plenty of noise echoing throughout the old ship. The babbling of the kid while he played with his metal ball, my laughter while watching him mess with trinkets, and an occasional quiet huff of laughter from my armor-wearing companion. It was peaceful, and it was home; Our home.

But right now, it’s tense.

I sat in the co-pilot seat, looking down at the worn floor of the cockpit while only being able to hear the tiny sounds of space surrounding us and the heavy beating of my heart. From the corner of my eye I glanced at Mando trying to gage what he was feeling, but to no avail. Even though I’ve grown to know him for a while, it was still hard to read him. Especially now.

I shift my gaze out the window, debating whether or not I should say something. I slowly reach my hand up to the bandage on my cheek, wincing a little at the contact. The pit in my stomach only worsened at the thought about what happened to cause the small injury, as well as the tense atmosphere that was suffocating me.

Realistically, I shouldn’t have jumped into the fight between a bounty and Din. He had it under control, as he mentioned the whole way back to the ship, and I was supposed to be watching the kid (He was safe in his pram with the cover over him). What made me jump in was seeing the bounty pull a knife when Mando wasn’t looking. So I intercepted the blow…which in return gave me a fun little knick on my cheek. Mando was able to knock him out and bring him to the ship, but after a huge lecture that consisted of yelling and arguing he began to ignore me. He put Grogu to sleep and made a beeline towards the cockpit.

So now we’re here.

I studied Mando as he punched in coordinates and flipped switched, the Razor Crest taking off. The tension was heavy, it felt like he could hear my thoughts. He was really making it difficult for me to speak up to finally break the silence.

“I’ve just put us into hyperspace. You should go rest, it’ll take us a while until we land on Nevarro,” Mando curtly said while he began lifting himself from his chair. He moved fast towards the ladder, making it hard for me to create any sort of response. I finally swiveled in my chair to face him to try to clear the air.

“Mando-“

“Don’t.”

And with that the door slid shut behind him.

I sat there, stunned and dumbfounded at his response. What the hell was that?

My brows furrowed as I nearly jumped out of the co pilot chair and went after him. I climbed down the latter and saw Mando cleaning his blaster. I slowly approached where he was sitting.

“Mando can we please-“

“No.”

“Would you stop interrupting me and just let me talk to you?”

Mando paused what he was doing, lifting his head so his visor finally faced me. I felt myself wanting to shrink at the sudden attention.

“Go ahead,” his tone was serious while making me question whether or not I really wanted to talk anymore. I took a deep breath before speaking.

“I know what I did was stupid,” I started while my hands began to shake a little, “and I should have known you would handle it-“

As I was speaking Mando placed his blaster on the small table next to him and began to stand up and walk around. I paused my apology, giving him a weird look.

“Are you even listening to me right now?” I questioned, frustration creeping up on me. When I didn’t get a response I began to follow him.

“Mando I’m trying to apologize and acknowledge my screw up, why can’t you just accept it?” I asked while he turned his back to me. I saw him shaking his head as he sighed, but no answer came from him. My small frustration was slowly growing into something more for each minute he ignored me.

I scrunched my nose as I tried to get his attention again.

“Hello? Am I talking to myself?” Another sigh. Without turning to face me he finally spoke.

“I don’t think you understand how stupid what you did was.”

At his words it felt like my heart sunk while my stomach began to eat itself alive. It felt like talking to a wall. My frustration came back as I took another step towards his back, waiting for him to finally acknowledge my presence.

“Don’t you think I know that? I panicked, Mando. I got ahead of myself and jumped the gun, you can’t say that has never happened to you-“

He spun around as he pointed a finger at me, “This isn’t about me!” His body was visibly tense as he spoke. “This is about you and how you can’t seem to handle intense situations like the one we faced today.”

I stared into his dark visor. There was a beat of silence, just as I took a breath before speaking he beat me to it.

“You need to stop getting a head of yourself and let me do my job.” Mando tried to end the conversation at that and began to walk away.

As if it was possible, my stomach began to hurt more while my heart felt like it was going to implode. I had to be dreaming. What was going on with him? I stood there for a second before time began catching up to me as I was quick to follow once more.

“Let you do your job? Are you even hearing yourself right now? I’ve apologized well over a million times and acknowledged my mistakes, what else will it take for you to forgive me?” I nearly begged him while seeking an answer. I wouldn’t stop until he spoke to me.

“Din, please-!”

“I shouldn’t have let any of this happen!” He finally snapped as he faced his body towards me, both of us breathing heavily. Letting his words sink in, I gave him a confused look before he continued.

“I shouldn’t have let the bounty get that close to where you and Grogu were with the ship. I was cocky and thought everything was fine until he tried to pull one over on me,” he explained, almost exasperated.

“Din,” I softly called his name, “what do you-“

“Because of my choices, you had to jump in because I was too focused to see the knife he pulled, and you got hurt because of it. I got you hurt,” Din’s voice began shaking subtly, but it was enough for me to catch it. I slowly began making my way towards him until I was almost touching his chest piece. I gently grabbed his gloved hand and placed it on my bandaged cheek as Din stilled at the action.

“I’m okay,” I softly assured him. His hand cupped my face as his thumb rubbed the bandage. He shook his head.

“But it could have been worse,” he was quick to deny, “I should have just used my comm and asked for help. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if anything happened to you or the kid.”

Din placed his other hand on my face, holding my head in his hands as his visor didn’t leave my eyes.

“I wouldn’t be able to live without you, cyar’ika.”

My breath hitched at his words as my eyes widened. I brought my hands up to his helmet and gently pulled him towards me as I made our foreheads rest against each other.

“I swear to you,” I whispered while closing my eyes, “that no matter what I will always be here. You can’t keep convincing yourself that if anything happens that it’s automatically your fault, it’s not good for you Din.” I moved my thumb back and forth on the cool beskar where his cheek would be.

“I wouldn’t be able to live without you, either,” I said sincerely. His helmet lifted from my head to look at me. I gave a small smile at him before continuing, “which is why I need you to rely on me when you need help. We’re a team, we have to work together okay?”

He took in a shaky breath before slowly letting it out.

“Okay. Just please try not to put yourself in danger if you don’t need to,” he nearly begged while holding me tighter. I laughed at his words while looking at him, adoringly.

“I promise.”

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#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars #fanfic

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sonofthedunes · 9 months

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as promised, the first one-shot i’ve written for this blog! let me know what you think. minors dni, etc.

Set just after the end of The Empire Strikes Back.

who says you cannot hold the moon in your hand?

~~~~~~

He won’t tell you what happened, exactly. No one will. All you know is that the Princess and Governor Calrissian found him clinging for dear life to the antenna at the bottom of Cloud City: bruised, bleeding, soaked in sweat…and missing his right hand.

It had been promptly replaced, of course, on the Alliance’s medical frigate. An Antilles BioGen L-980, one of the finest cybernetics on the market, now occupies the end of his wrist. To the average observer it looks no different than his remaining flesh hand; it serves all the same functions as the appendage he’s lost, thanks to the implanted neurochip. But every time he gazes on it when he thinks you aren’t looking, flexes the fingers and frowns, you know he feels it. The phantom pain, the sense of “othering,” the clear demarcation of his life into before and after. You know of course that he’s still Luke Skywalker, the Rebellion hero and the man you love-but something in him has changed fundamentally since that rescue, and that cybernetic hand is a constant reminder.

You can’t magically heal his anger or sadness. You can’t force him to tell you everything he’s done since you parted on Hoth. If the Force is with the Rebellion, there will be plenty of time for that in the future. But what you can do is help him forget for a few precious hours. To remind him that he is loved, no matter what scars or wounds he bears.

And where better to start than the hand?

You begin very slowly, there in the privacy of his quarters: it seems the most natural thing in the galaxy to pick up his artificial hand and methodically kiss every fingertip. The palm follows the fingers, right over his lifeline. You kiss just hard enough to be felt, but softly enough to entice. Under your lips whirr machinery where once was bone and muscle, and the synth skin isn’t quite as warm as real flesh…but you find you don’t really care.

If Luke’s face is any indication, though, he certainly does. He watches your motions apprehensively, brows knit over those clear blue eyes. “You don’t have to do this,” he protests.

“But I want to,” you reply, already moving on to his wrist.

“Love…” he cuts himself off and sighs-partly out of frustration, partly because your lips are resting on the tattooing pulse of his forearm. “I just…I’d rather not think about it.”

“But you do. I know you do.” Pausing in your ministrations, you sit back on the bed and regard him thoughtfully-as thoughtfully as two people in their military undergarments (tank tops and briefs) can hold eye contact. “Luke, I promise you I’m not repulsed by your hand. Oh, it upset me at first, knowing how much pain you were in. But now it’s…just a hand.” You massage it gently. “It’s part of you. And I don’t pick and choose the parts I love.”

He sighs again, curling his cybernetic fingers around yours. “I know. And sometimes I almost believe it. But when I catch myself looking at it for too long, or my grip is too tight, it all comes flooding back.”

“…Will you ever tell me? How it happened, I mean?”

Luke’s eyes are trained on you, but in that moment he’s looking beyond you to somewhere dark. Cold. “Someday. But not now,” he murmurs. His left hand sweeps a few tendrils of hair from your face. “I don’t want to think about it now.”

You smile and lift his right hand to your lips again, a motion that causes pink to bloom in his cheeks. “Well, what do you want, Luke?” you ask, as if the desire wasn’t already swimming in your veins.

Swallowing in a dry throat, muscles tensing, he responds in a low voice: “I want to touch you.”

There’s another part to that request which remains unspoken, but you understand it nonetheless. Keeping a sure grip on the mechno-hand, you press it to your cheek. “Like this?” you inquire. He dips his chin in a nod.

Thus encouraged, you guide the hand from your face to your collarbone. “And this?” you prompt. Another nod, accompanied by a rather breathy “yes.”

And Maker, the shuddering exhale that leaves him when the synth flesh meets your clothed breast. “Is this all right?” you manage, voice wavering as he hesitantly squeezes.

Luke dispenses with words then, leaning forward and kissing you with a measured, smoldering hunger. You groan a little in surprise, pressing your mouth eagerly to his and throwing your arms around his toned shoulders. In doing so, of course, you let go of his cybernetic…and almost of its own accord, it wanders lower.

A feather light touch swipes across your underwear, and you break the kiss with a squeak. Two pairs of eyes blown to black meet, two pairs of lips slightly parted pant, and Luke jerks his hand away as if he’s been burned. “Sorry,” he mutters. “ ‘M sorry. I thought…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” you repeat, nuzzling him briefly. Flesh fingers find mechno, intertwine in reassurance.

His shoulders visibly relax. “Please, let me take care of you,” he entreats.

“With this hand?”

“Yeah. Wanna fuck you with it. Wanna watch you come on it,” he breathes, the faint blush now vivid twin firespots.

“Oh, starboy…” you coo, knowing how much effort those words demanded from him. “I want your beautiful fingers in me so, so much.”

It’s always a clumsy affair, wriggling out of standard-issue Alliance briefs (the least sexy garment in this or any galaxy). Yet you manage, and Luke can’t hold back a moan when you recline and part your legs to show him how wet you already are. “Fuck, is that all for me?” he says in wonder, crawling closer.

“Only for you,” you promise, taking his mechno-hand in yours once more. With patience and affection you clasp it for a heartbeat or two; then, at long last, you lead him to the valley of your cunt, the tips of his middle and index rubbing the dew before they slip inside.

This hand has never explored you before, but it knows just what to do. Those long thick fingers crook against your walls, caressing the warm gripping heat as they pump in a steady rhythm. You throw your head back on the pillow and whine, fire already building in your lower belly. “Yes, yes, darling boy, fuck me just like that,” you beg. “Oh Luke, I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he groans, completely devoted to his task. He huffs your name, followed by a curse you think may be Huttese. “You’re so tight for me, fuck. Are you sure I’m not-“

“No! N-no, you’re fine.” Far from the cybernetics battering you, they apply just the right amount of pressure, of intensity. You lift your head then to look at him, your gorgeous boy, thrusting his fingers into your pussy with a furrowed brow and teeth set into his bottom lip. His flesh hand steadies him, his nostrils flare, a thin sheen of sweat glimmers. And-ah, there it is, his cock straining and leaving a damp stain on his own briefs. The very idea that this foreign intruder to his body is bringing you such pleasure shocks and arouses him all at once. He knows you mean it, these exclamations of joy, your eyes rolling back, your hips bucking to meet the busily working machine with truly obscene squelching noises. It’s not enough to fully eradicate the darkness preying on the edges of his mind, but it lights a tiny candle of hope. And he’s more than willing to accept it.

“Luke! Oh Luke, don’t stop,” you whimper as he twists his wrist, searching for that special spot.

He grins then, genuinely, for the first time in Force knows how long. “Is that good, baby?” he questions rhetorically.

“Ah-aah, you feel so…” Your caravan of thought derails as he locates the spongy patch high up in your secret place and deftly presses. Uttering a thin, pitchy cry, your back arches and your own hands grip the sheets. “Fuck! Oh Maker, oh…”

He grunts with the exertion and in satisfaction too, teeth gritted now, fully hard in his briefs like an overexcited teenager. “A-are you close?” he asks hoarsely.

“Uh-huh” is all you can manage as you rapidly ascend the dizzying heights, your world shrinking to the motion of his hand and the sound of his voice.

“Let go,” Luke urges, his order trembling beyond his control. Control is about to leave this room entirely. “Come for me, sweet girl. Soak my fuckin’ hand, I want to see it.”

And those words might have been sufficient on their own, but when he brings his thumb to your swollen clit and forms the tiny rapid-fire circles that never fail to light up every synapse…that’s it. You can’t hold out any longer, and with a choked sob you break, spiraling off into a void where no feeling exists but bliss, and no Galactic Empire can ever harm you.

You’re only faintly aware of Luke withdrawing his fingers as you sprawl across the mattress, heart pounding and breathing harsh. The sheets rustle as he lays himself next to you, a lightness in his face that hadn’t been there before. “Look,” he remarks, holding up his cybernetic for your inspection. Gleaming on the two fingers he’d just used, trickling down his wrist and forearm all the way to the bend of his elbow, your spend proves you heeded him well. A half-smile quirks one corner of his mouth. “So I guess you don’t mind it after all. My hand, I mean.”

Chuckling tiredly, you roll onto your side and kiss his cheek. “I told you! You just didn’t believe me,” you counter. “I love you, Luke-all of you.”

“And I love you, more than anything.” This time he seeks your mouth, and you happily surrender it. In the course of your kiss he shifts closer to you, craving the silk of your hair and the velvet of your bare arms-but accidentally brushes the bulge in his briefs against your thigh. A slightly pained “mmph!” vibrates through your teeth, and your lips curve amusedly.

“You want to me to take care of that?” you posit as the two of you slowly pull apart. “One good turn deserves another.”

Luke shakes his head as he flops onto his back, golden hair fanned against the pillow. “In a minute. I think we could both use a break.”

You follow him and settle your head on his chest, hand coming to rest over his strong, blessedly beating heart. “I think you’re right,” you agree quietly. Hell, the entire damn universe could use a break. And one day it would arrive-but until then, you think as your lover slings his arm over your back and pecks the crown of your scalp, already anticipating the pleasure to come, this isn’t so bad.

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker smut #c writes #god i haven’t published any writing in years i’m nervous af

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kyber-crystal · 2 years

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rendezvous at midnight || jake “hangman” seresin

summary: you’ve always been good at handling any obstacle thrown your way. but when the clock starts ticking and you find yourself next to hangman, things change. could the new year bring with it a newfound love? maybe...

words: ~1.8k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, minor rivals-to-lovers trope but that’s it. this is mostly pretty fluffy!

a/n: so i had to repost this bc it flopped so hard...idk what’s happening to my fics lmao. i deeply apologize, this was really rushed and poorly written

It was only a matter of seconds before you choked to death.

You weren’t actually dying, but that was what it felt like. After growing accustomed to being in uniform most of the time, the switch to fine silk felt strange. Goosebumps rose up on your skin as you sat down at the bar and adjusted the strap of your form-fitting dress.

As pretty and pearlescent as it was, it did little to keep you warm amidst the crowded area.

You had practiced walking in heels in the morning until your ankles turned bright red. If you could ensure that you wouldn’t fall in front of everyone, you’d take all necessary steps to get there.

“How’s my favorite girl doing?” Penny offered you a warm smile and a sparkling glass of liquor. “Are you holding up okay?”

“Tired,” you explained. “I didn’t sleep last night.”

“Too busy thinking about him?”

“Come on, it’s not like that,” you groaned as you finished off your drink. “You know it’s not like that.”

“I know it is like that,” she quipped.

“We compete. We don’t fall in love,” you said. “That’s what we do. We’re not going any farther than snarky insults.”

“Go find him. There’s half an hour ‘til the clock strikes 12,” It almost sounded like she was hinting at something. “Then you start fresh. Begin again. No rivalry. And if you’re lucky, you can steal a kiss or two.”

“Penny!”

“What? I’m only giving you suggestions. Now shoo. I’m not letting you get drunk again and force poor Bob and Mav to drag you home.”

“Fine,” you exhaled as you set your glass down and got up. “I’ll catch you later…unless you’re too busy with one certain captain…”

Penny rolled her eyes and waved you off, trying not to smile.

You found him standing alone in the corner, nursing a glass of tequila and looking quite content. Seeing his slim, toned figure under the dim bar lights tugged at your heartstrings. The man truly was a sight for sore eyes, save the rivalry…and ego…and overcompetitive nature.

“Tired already?” you asked. Hangman looked up, and the corners of his mouth turned up a bit. “It’s a lot, isn’t it.”

“Sure is,” he chuckled. “You look…incredible, darling.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, suddenly feeling nervous in front of him. “You do, too.”

“Hard to believe it’s almost January. It feels like we got here yesterday.”

“I don’t believe in time. This isn’t real,” you shook your head and laughed. “Things go by way too fast for me to process anything. I’m in denial of the fact that none of us knew each other five years ago.”

“Coyote and Payback weren’t best friends. Let that sink in,” Hangman added on. “Neither were Bob and Phoenix.”

“There’s no way…”

“Part of me misses how we used to be, though. Before the academy.”

“Jake, we fought all the time through college,” you reminded him. “Why would you want to go back to it?”

“Well…the year’s almost over. Might as well turn over a new leaf,” he held a hand out to you. “What do you say?”

“Okay.” You smiled, and shook his hand. “I like the sound of that.”

“It’s like they’re sucked into their own bubble. Lost in their own little world,” Payback observed the two of you laughing together. “Y’know, the tiny city in the Lorax? Like that, but make it naval aviators. It’s cute.”

“It would be cuter if they would just kiss already,” Fanboy groaned. “How long has it been? Four years?”

“‘Cause Seresin’s dumb ass thinks that insulting Y/N all the time is the ultimate way to win her over. None of his thousand attempts have come across to her clear enough yet,” Coyote backed up. “But we gotta give ‘em time. That’s all we can do right now.”

“I guess so…”

“Jake. If you keep chugging your tequila like that, you’ll regret it,” you warned. “Starting the new year with a hangover isn’t the way to go.”

“You said my first name.”

“Did you even hear what I said after that?”

“You’ve never said my first name before,” Hangman observed. “But now you did. It’s nice. I like the change.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to get annoyed, not when he was looking at you the way he currently was. Eyes once filled with hardness and frustration now softened at the sight of you.

“Hold still.” Your brows furrowed in concentration as you reached up to fix his tie. “Your tie’s all crooked.”

Your fingers accidentally brushed against his skin, and electricity shot through your body. You stood there, frozen for a moment, before bringing them down—and his eyes stayed on you the whole time.

“There,” you stated, dusting your hands off. It was a miracle that you could utter even a word without your voice trembling. “Good as new.”

“Thanks.”

The awkward silence that fell over you afterward was rather heavy. You didn’t know how long it lasted for, standing there, avoiding intense eye contact while trying not to melt into the floor.

A series of loud voices snapped you out of your awkward moment. Everyone had gathered around the bar, watching the TV and counting out loud. Thirty seconds left…so you let Hangman take your hand and lead you closer to the scene.

You didn’t say anything, even when he kept his grip on your hand and looked up at the screen. You found that you liked the company and didn’t want him to let go of you.

15, 14, 13, 12

11, 10, 9, 8

Hangman turned towards you once again. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you.”

“Okay.” The word was out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

7, 6

5, 4

His hand slid up to your cheek. The air in the room grew impossibly thicker, and you face felt hotter.

3, 2, 1...and like a flash of lightning, his lips are on yours and you melt into his touch. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin and you hold onto his shoulders to keep your balance. Both of you are most likely a bit tipsy but that does little to slow down the butterflies in your stomach. He’s everywhere and you’re on fire and you should stop yourselves at this point but you don’t. You can’t, because you don’t want to. How could you have imagined that his lips would feel so perfect; so delicately warm and soft against yours; that with one small gesture, he could break down the walls you tried so hard to build up around your heart. He was here, but he was everywhere, too.

When you finally break apart, you’re dazed and confused. You’re too out of it to notice Bob and Coyote exchanging wads of cash, or that it’s already several minutes past twelve. Your head is spinning, and your knees feel weak.

It’s a miracle that you make it home that night without passing out.

It was only a kiss, you tell yourself. That’s all it was supposed to be. But it still manages to creep its way into your dreams, into your sleep, and sinks into your skin��you can’t escape it. What had only lasted for a few minutes was taking up your entire day and sucking all the energy from your body. You wanted to crawl into a deep hole and stay there forever—at least in the darkness, nobody could visualize your embarrassment. And your reddening face. And the way you clung to him like there was no tomorrow.

“The queen has finally emerged from her beauty sleep.” Maverick looked amused as you lifted your head off your desk and blinked. “Welcome back.”

“Sorry, Mav,” you mumbled as you rubbed your eyes.

He gave you a look that seemed to say he understood what was going on. “It’s okay. Now back to what I was saying…”

It was like you were dragging your feet through rivers of mud. You could still feel him. His lips ghosting over yours, hands leaving the imprint of his tantalizing touch on your waist. You couldn’t get the feeling out of your head…but how could you? This was Hangman, and Hangman was a difficult person to forget—he was everything and you hated to love it.

After the day’s lesson finished, you were out of there and in the dining hall as fast as possible.

“You look like you saw your morals fly right out the window,” Fanboy noted as he set his tray down and sat next to you.

“Because they did,” you muttered. “New year, new me? More like new year, and old habits die hard.”

“I wouldn’t call your feelings for Seresin an old habit. They’ve always been there. It came to you naturally.”

“Shut up before I throw this juicebox at you.”

“You should do something, you know. You kissed.”

“And we had both been drinking before. He only initiated it because of the liquor confidence boost.”

“So? That doesn’t change how he was looking at you before. He was standing over there waiting for you to come to him,” Fanboy argued. “Give the man a chance. You ran away too fast last night.”

“Fine. But you owe me dinner tomorrow.”

“Deal.”

Can we talk?

You typed out a quick Meet by the docks before grabbing your purse and heading out the door. He was already there when you arrived.

“Hey…” you began.

“Hey.”

You stood there in silence as he started to speak. “So, about last night. I wasn’t drunk, at least, not enough to forget what I said or did. I hope you weren’t? I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Okay, good.”

“Yeah.”

“Great.”

Right then, you became all too aware of the way he was gazing at you—alcohol or not, the look in Hangman’s eyes was the exact same as the one last night…and you felt your pulse start racing. Had he always stared at you that way but you were too oblivious to notice?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” your voice came out so quiet that he almost missed what you said.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know how else to look at you.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot. It was only a kiss. Nothing more.

“You didn’t do it out of pity, right?”

“I couldn’t do that to you or myself. I didn’t do it on accident, Y/N. It wasn’t a mistake.”

“Oh.”

You took three steps toward him, enough to be mere inches away from his face. His arms wrapped around you on instinct and you let him pull you close. Then when he tilted his head down to kiss you again, you let him, and the butterflies remained.

He was here, and he was everywhere, too.

tags, including those who may be interested: @queenbbarnes @walkonthewiidside @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @altheadarling @hay-9105 @purelyfiction @93joons @yeehawnana @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @lyn-lc @azari-anna @thelifeofthelifeofme @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @newlibrary @ellabellabus07 @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @hufflepuffprincesse @ice-mans-world @burnedbrisket @fangirlinc @marveljunkie45 @knowledgefulbutterfly @levis-butterfingers @organabanks @coastingline @skylynch03 @chaoticassidy @hbstre @mercury-mae @light-the-moon @winteryoungie @aie1840 @thisismypointofview @minivture @teacactusworld @icemansgirl1999 @cherry-waved @vane28282 @worldsoldestpizzaslice

#top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun fic #top gun fanfic #jake seresin #hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman seresin x reader #glen powell #top gun maverick fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic

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girasollake · 2 years

Note

IMAGINE while the gang are out doing their bit and Eddie is still hiding out, the reader has to keep him company and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. She takes like board games and stuff to pass the time and hopefully make it a little less awkward. BASICALLY IDK HOW BUT THEY END UP FUCKING 😭😭😭😭

unexpected | e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x afab!fem!reader

type: smut

warnings: sex 18+, minors DNI, swear words, pullout method, cum on body?, pussy eating, hair pulling, neck holding?(not choking), guys idk what more..

summary: in the ask:]

a/n: i have been writing it for like two past hours, i am so terrified of watching the new episodes when i wake up cause rn its 1 am and i wanna go to sleep, if they kill eddie or steve im suing... anyway i hope you'll like this piece anon<3 (also i feel like i suck at writing smut)

word count: about 2k

————————————————-

It was a windy afternoon. (Y/n) was sitting on her bed reading a stupid book her dad had made her read. Branches of a tree outside were softly hitting her bedroom window, the wind was making weird sounds. She turned over and tossed her book on the floor. With a sigh she got up and made her way downstairs. She didn’t want to interrupt her father who was working so she went to the kitchen. She was a bit tired from the morning events where she had to help her friends so she definitely needed a cup of coffee at that moment. While she was making the drink the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it dad!” She yelled, voice directed towards the office.

She opened the door and saw Robin, the rest of her friends sitting in a car parked in the street. Robin was grinning and fumbling with her hands.

“What is it this time?” (Y/n) threw her head back and sighed.

“I just have a tiny, really tiny, little favour to ask you.” Robin bit her lip. “Can you watch Eddie tonight and like keep him company? We have some really important stuff to do and we need someone to… you know… make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

(Y/n) massaged her temples with her fingers, eyes closed. An annoyed groan escaped her lips but after all she agreed.

“Just wait a minute, I’ll go grab some games and tell my dad that I’ll sleep at your place.”

Robin was patiently waiting in the car with the others when the door opened and slammed just as fast.

“Thank yo-“ Steve started saying.

“Shut up and drive Harrington before I change my mind.”

All she wanted was a peaceful evening, maybe a warm bath. All of the latest events were getting into her head and she needed something to take her mind off of them, that something certainly wasn’t Eddie. She didn’t know him at all except for the fact he was quite weird, at least that’s what she had gathered from the 30 minutes she had spent with him. Maybe getting to know him more wouldn’t be that bad?

She took her bag and swung it over her shoulder. She slammed the door of Steve’s car again and started walking towards the boathouse.

“We’ll be back in 5 hours!” Robin screamed through the unrolled window.

“WHAT!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN 5 HOURS?!” (Y/n) turned around, anger written on her face.

“Or more!” She waved her hand at the furious girl while Steve was driving away.

(Y/n) groaned and adjusted her bag. She knocked on the door and opened it slowly.

“Eddie? It’s (Y/n). I’m here to babysit you.” She whispered while entering the boathouse.

He was sitting with his back pressed to the wooden wall, gaze fixed on the lake.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” He muttered.

“I know, but the others would disagree.” She came closer and took a seat next to him. “I have some board games to pass the time.”

Eddie finally looked at her, she had looked the same in the morning but now her smile looked more authentic, there was softness in her eyes. He put his beer aside and shifted in his seat.

“Okay, show me what you’ve got.” He smirked and nodded towards her bag.

(Y/n) couldn’t deny, she started feeling a bit tense. It wasn’t because she was scared, it’s because she started noticing his best features. The fact that she was left with this man alone was also doing the job. She observed him while he was looking through her games. His brows furrowed, mouth slightly agape, veiny hands caressing the boxes.

Were those rings there before?

“This one should be good, I played it once or twice.” He handed her the box. “You want to make a bet?” He added, his body softly leant towards her, enough for her to notice.

“Um, what kind of bet?” She tucked a strand of her behind her ear.

“If I win, you give me a kiss.”

“Pshh, hell no Munson.” She rolled her eyes.

“Come on, what do you have to lose?” He tilted his head.

Right, what do I have to lose?

“Yeah, ok, I’ll do it. But if I win, you will lent me some of your Metallica records when you get out of this shitty situation.”

“You like Metallica?”

“I like many things you wouldn’t think I like.” She winked. “So deal?”

“Deal.”

They shook hands and started playing the game. Two hours of constant mocking, bickering and swearing passed and now they were waiting for the moment of truth. Eddie shook the dice in his hands and threw it on the board.

“I WON! HOLY SHIT!” He screamed, his arms flying to the air. Then his eyes met (Y/n)’s. “You know what that means, (L/n)”

She gulped and felt her body going even more tense than before. Just his presence was enough and now a kiss?

It’s just a kiss.

It’s just a kiss from a hot metalhead, you can do it.

She tried to reassure herself while Eddie sat next to her. His hand came up to hold her cheek and he slowly turned her head to face him. His cold rings were like ice to her heated face. Eddie leaned in and their lips collided in a soft, warm kiss. His hand went into her hair gripping it gently. The kiss was short, they pulled apart and (Y/n)’s eyes looked straight into his, she didn’t waste a second to connect their lips again. This time it was messier and harder, filled with passion. She sat up and then quickly swung one of her legs over Eddie so that she would sit on him.

“It was supposed to be one kiss.” He said while he tried to catch his breath.

“I can stop if you want to.” She whispered, her lips softly sucking on his neck.

“Fuck no.”

He switched their positions so that she would be underneath him. That place wasn’t the cleanest but neither of them cared at that moment. Eddie’s lips were attacking her jaw and neck where he left two small hickeys. (Y/n) cupped his face with her hands and made him look at her.

“Touch me Eddie.”

He lowered his head to kiss her again and just before they kissed he whispered the words “As you wish”. One of his hands lifted her shirt, his fingers caressing her delicate body. There was this feeling again, his cold rings against her warm skin were making her shiver. She moaned into the kiss, Eddie’s desire growing stronger. He took off her shirt and started kissing everything on his way, he then placed his hand on one of her breasts squeezing it lightly. He then took it out of the cup and started circling his tongue on her nipple, the other boob being massaged with his other hand. (Y/n) threw her head back, her body arching into his. He used her movement to his advantage, his hands sneaking onto her back and quickly unclasping her bra. He threw it somewhere next to them and then took off his own shirt. They were both staring at each other, it was getting dark but the sunset was still present and it gave them all the light that was needed. He was in awe of her messed up hair, soft breaths coming from swollen lips and her breasts moving with each of those breaths. She was in awe of his softly sculpted body, tattoos adoring his skin and his face features which were so unique and well-matched. Her fingers started dancing on the tattoos, slowly tracing their outlines.

“You like them?” He asked her.

She nodded softly and smiled.

“I just didn’t expect you had so many.” She looked up at him. “They’re hot.”

“I know they are.” He gave her a smug smile and kissed her.

He grinded into her and groaned into the kiss. (Y/n) softly scratched his back and deepened the kiss at the same time. Eddie’s hand cupped her boob again, his finger gently flicking her nipple. Then she was the one grinding into him, pressing her hips into his more and more.

“Are you sure?” He whispered.

“Shut up and fuck me Munson.” She arched her back again and pulled him towards her.

Eddie didn’t waste a second to take off her jeans and panties, but before he did what he was asked to he wanted to do one more thing. He lowered his head and trailed kisses from her neck down to her thighs. His fingers slightly tickling her lower belly and hip bones. He placed a soft kiss on her clit earning a moan from her. He held her hips tightly and started flicking his tongue occasionally licking all over. She was shaking, hands gripping his hair, her orgasm approaching rather quickly but Eddie stopped right before it hit her.

“I want you to cum when I’m inside you.” He said and pressed their lips together.

He threw his pants and underwear to the side and lined himself up with her entrance. He lowered his body and connected their lips again. She felt his tip slide inside her, it was uncomfortable at first but when she felt all of him it was amazing. They both gasped at the feeling and Eddie started slowly moving his hips.

“Faster.” She managed to say between the moans.

Eddie did what she said, his body loudly slamming against hers. He changed the position and threw her legs onto his shoulders which sent (Y/n) over the edge. She came without a warning, her walls squeezing Eddie’s penis and enhancing his pleasure.

“Fuck Eddie, fuck, fuck, fuck!!” She screamed while digging her nails into his arms.

Eddie helped her through her orgasm and then pulled out. She whimpered at the loss of contact thinking he was also finished but she was so wrong. He held her up and turned her around so that she was on all fours and pressed her head down. He waited a couple seconds and then shoved himself inside of her, she screamed and desperately tried to hold onto something but with no luck. She closed her hands into fists and moaned with each of his thrusts.

“You like being fucked like that?” He asked and went even faster.

She didn’t answer him, her vision going blurry from the pleasure. Eddie noticed that and pulled her up by the hair.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes..uhm..fuck.”

She gasped at the new sensation of her hair being pulled, she had never felt so much pleasure during sex. She didn’t know how much more she could take but this feeling of him filling her up was the only important thing, she didn’t want to lose it. Eddie let go of her hair and placed his hand on her throat pulling her towards him. They were both on their knees, Eddie fucking her from behind, her whole body pressed into his. His other hand started massaging her sensitive spot on her pussy. Next thing she knew she was cumming again. She threw her head back onto his shoulder, his hot breath hitting her cheek. After her orgasm he helped her get on all fours again and pulled out quickly, she collapsed on the floor and felt something warm on her back. Eddie groaned and sighed.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Mhm..” She mumbled still trying to catch her breath.

Eddie stood up and dressed himself into his clothes scattered on the floor, he then took a towel which was a bit old and dirty and used it to wipe off the cum from (Y/n)’s back. He threw it somewhere under the table and helped her sit up. After helping her dress up he took a blanket Dustin had brought him and covered them both with it.

“Was I too rough?”

“No Eddie, you were perfect.” She kissed him on the cheek and then nuzzled her head into his chest.

Just before she fell asleep she thought of the plans she had had before she had come to spend time with him. Maybe she was wrong? Maybe Eddie was that something to take her mind off of things?

taglist: @r93339 @stvrdustalexx @cursedandromedablack @ccosmic-illusion @luvwanda @justice4lils @heizenka @wolfstarsimpxx @madokas-heart @screambih @lyntic @freeshavocadoooo @laracrof7s @naturalswifty89 @bvmbshell @alainabooks143 @squidwardsluverxx @phantomxoxo @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @stilesks @ilovedilfs32 @kaitlin-r130 @greengarsstuff @axen-gers @088i880 @ilovefictionalbrunettes

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #imagine #x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie mundon x you #robin buckley #smut warning #smut smut smut

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drabblesaf · 2 years

Text

Movie Night Frustration - Steve Harrington Smut

REQUESTED: Nope. I haven’t written for quite a while, and I had a sudden inspiration strike last night (especially after S4 P1 dropped).

WARNINGS: Oral (both receiving), “sir” kink - MINORS DNI PLEASE

SUMMARY: You and Steve are on the night shift at the video store - you’re trying to do work and catch up on the week’s missed jobs, but Steve gets bored easily and needs something more than videos to entertain him.

NOTES: Uh, hey. So, I’m kind of back?

Maybe. I’m not sure yet. I’ve been really busy with uni for the past few years (in case you couldn’t tell from my utter lack of posting here) and now I’ve finished everything, I wanted to try and get back into my writing.

May be a bit rusty, so bare with me. I had inspo strike from the new season of Stranger Things, so here we are.

Hope you enjoy guys <3

Working the night shift at the Family Video Store was not how I originally planned on spending this evening. Sure, the pay was good for night shift, I couldn’t fault that. And any of the stock of candy we had left over was pretty much free rein until the next day’s batch came in - even more so once we hit the end of the week and needed to start clearing everything out. Those two things were no problem to me at all. The problem? Steve Harrington.

Steve had changed a lot since his time at Hawkins High. No longer a complete fucking asshat, he’d actually matured into a guy who gave somewhat of a shit. Shocking for the King of Hawkins to have such a redemption arc behind him. Maybe it was the fact he kept hanging out with the kids from sophomore year, Dustin, Mike and Lucas. Maybe it’s because my coworker Robin had actually knocked some sense into his pretty little head. Or maybe…just maybe, Steve was actually thinking seriously about his future and realising that he couldn’t be a dick forever.

Whatever it was, it still didn’t seem to occur to him that he could do his job without picking up chicks at the store - although maybe that was the same case for me too with guys. Somehow, Hawkins still had enough of a single male population that seemed to want to try their luck with the cute girls behind the movie counter, which always ended in Robin giving a heavy eyeroll and me gaining some dude’s home phone number or a reminder that they’d “pick me up at whatever time and we could go find a place to get away from it all”…which would almost always end in them wanting to go to Lovers Lake or Skull Rock, and Steve or Robin covering for me while I camped out in the staff room.

Surprisingly enough, this often worked quite well - I guess the boys were intimidated by my coworkers enough to eventually skulk out of the store, never to return again. This tactic didn’t work on the girls though, but then again, Harrington never seemed to have enough game to be able to woo them. Which is where he was stuck on this particular evening, moping as he stood next to the counter counting out the change in the register. “What’s got you so down in the dumps?” I said, staring at him from across one of the aisles, brush in hand.

“I’m losing my spark, Y/N. Losing my magic touch,” he sighed, idly playing with a cent in his hands.

“What makes you say that?”

“Have you seen the chicks that come in here? None of them are interested in me offering to take them to see the latest films in the cinema. Not a single one.”

“Have you tried just being yourself and not putting the charm offensive on all the time?” I asked, crouching down to remove the DVDs from the bottom shelf so they could get wiped down (those ones in particular always seemed to get some sort of sticky residue on them, and we could never quite explain why).

“Girls don’t like me “being myself”, (Y/N). Unless myself is King Steve, they don’t want to know me.”

“That’s not true, and you know it, Harrington,” I sighed, shaking my head as I carried the DVDs over to the desk, where he was now stood with his head in his hands. I reached over and ruffled his hair slightly, causing him to look up and give me a playful glare.

“Hey, leave the hair out of this,” he chuckled, poking his tongue out at me, before pausing and flicking his tongue over his bottom lip. He did this from time to time, but this time something felt…different. “(Y/N), what do you mean, I know it?” His brown eyes bore into my own, and I felt a shift, as if the world had just had a mass earthquake.

“You should be able to guess, Steve - you’re smart enough after all”, I said, voice wavering slightly. I wasn’t wrong, Steve was in fact very smart - after Nancy and him had split up, he actually put in a decent amount of effort to get his grades back up so he could get through sophomore year without too many issues, which - much to his surprise - he did very well, passing the year with 85% overall. And despite his general act as the King of Hawkins High, he could pick up on social cues well and did try to keep people around him who weren’t…douchebags, for lack of a better term.

He stared at me, raising an eyebrow, and I turned away quickly, busying myself with sweeping the dust off the (now free) bottom shelf. In a sense, there was definitely something that had shifted in the air between us, and it had been something I had been reckoning with for a while now. I’m not sure what it was, but there had definitely been moments between Steve and I that had left me questioning what his motives were every damn time. Did he want something to happen as much as I did?

The night wore on, and we were both beginning to get tired of doing all the chores that needed to be done over the night shift, especially closing up shop. We closed up early on the weekends, purely because most people were out partying or had already decided on what films they wanted for the evening - there wasn’t much chance of any late buyers coming in at the last minute unless it was Valentines Day. I occupied myself with finishing up rearranging the movies on the shelves, while Steve scribbled away in the notebook we had for accounting. “Hey, (Y/N), could you give me a hand? Just want to make sure I have everything accounted for in this, and that I did the math correctly,” he said, and I stood up from the final shelf, dusting my hands off on my jeans.

“Sure, I can do that. Final shelf is good to go, by the way,” I said, walking over to him. I could feel his eyes burning into me as I walked over, shedding my over-fleece that I wore as uniform (since the shop was closed now, there wasn’t much point in keeping it on). I chucked it under the till and pulled up a stool next to Steve, running over the numbers and trying to do quick calculations in my mind. All the while though, I could feel his presence right next to me, as if he was wanting to do or say something. After about 5 minutes of thinking over the sums, I nodded. “All clear, everything’s good to go,” I said, looking up at him. He swallowed slightly, his tongue flicking over his lips again as his eyes moved over my face.

The air got thicker all of a sudden, and it felt like something could happen any moment. “Uh, (Y/N), have you…” he started, and I paused, dropping the pencil to the table in front. He shook his head, mumbling a quick “Fuck it,” before crashing his lips onto mine. The kiss was needy, feverish - almost like it was something he depended on, like a lifeline. His lips and mine moved effortlessly against one another, tongues darting in and out and battling out in a war of dominance. His hands began roaming over my body, holding me steady on the stool as the exploration took place. This was a side I hadn’t expected from him, but I let it happen, moving my hands up to his hair as I did so.

His lips began moving down from mine to my jaw, trailing their way down to the collar of my shirt - this caused him to pause momentarily, both of us gasping for air as he looked at me, moving a hand up to caress my face gently. I nodded, giving him the permission he sought to take my shirt off, leaving me in my bra and jeans. He resumed his prior actions, lips trailing down my collarbone to one breast, then another. Each of them had kisses pressed to them, before the bra itself was gently pulled down and his lips attached themselves to each nipple, sucking and biting on each one and causing small whimpers to fall from my mouth.

This only seemed to spur him on, and made him suck each nipple more feverishly as if it was his lifeline. Soon after, he realised other areas needed attention too, and his kisses moved further and further down my body until they hovered just above the waistband of my jeans. He looked up at me, and I nodded. “Please, Steve,” I mumbled quietly, and he licked his lips again, turning his attention to the button on my jeans, which he popped open deftly before helping me shimmy the material off my hips.

He gave a few tentative kisses over my panties, causing some light moans to fall from my mouth, before that material was removed too and nothing was in the way of his tongue. He kissed the area lightly, before licking at it, causing my hips to raise up sharply to meet his mouth, and my hand to fall into his hair. Every single action he made had my body feeling like it was on fire, and very quickly I could feel myself reaching the high I was craving. He was licking and sucking at the area as if it was his entire life force, and it was very quickly getting me to where I needed to be. “Steve, fuck!” I whimpered, my hands tugging at his hair as he moved quicker, bringing a finger into play as well and curling it up right where I needed it. That was enough to bring me over the edge, causing me to scream and gasp as I met the high he’d been trying to elicit from me for so long. He kept lapping at my arousal as wave after wave of pleasure ran through my body, causing me to tremble at every slight touch he created.

After a while I calmed down enough and the room stabilised for a short while, for me to begin to realise that Steve was unbuckling his belt and beginning to remove his jeans. Shakily, I stood up, placing my hands over his and hoping he understood that I wanted to help him. He looked at me as I did this, and said quietly, “You don’t have to, y’know.”

“I want to.” He thought about this for a second and then nodded, allowing me access to the button on his jeans completely. I carefully popped it open, taking my time with the zipper - I wanted to at least try to savour this moment before it went away and we were forced into that pit of realisation of what we were doing with each other. He sighed slightly, bucking his hips up as I pulled his jeans down, looking face to face at his hard-on restrained by his boxers. It was straining to be let out against the cotton, and I could only oblige, causing a hiss to fall from his lips as he was exposed to the air of the store.

I expected him to be packing down there - he was “The King” of Hawkins High, after all - but I didn’t expect him to be bigger than I thought. I cautiously grasped at his cock, causing him to let out a jagged moan and his hand to fall over mine. “Fucking hell, (Y/N). Do you know how much I’ve imagined this scenario?” He grunted, helping to move my hand along his length.

“No, but I could probably guess,” I snarked back, before diverting my attention back to the matter in hand…quite literally. Tentatively, I poked my tongue out and licked a stripe up one of the protruding veins on his member, causing him to groan loudly, the noise only encouraging me further. I licked a few more times before turning my attention to his head, eliciting a louder moan from his lips, followed by several curses.

“Fuck, so pretty…you’re doing so good sweetheart,” he sighed, hand falling away from mine and slowly coming back up to push my hair out my face, causing me to look up at him as he did so. His lips were slightly parted, and he was looking down at me through his eyelashes, eyes flickering as I looked up with his cock in my mouth. “Shit…so good, fuck. You’re killing me, doll.”

This was the only motivation I needed to keep on with what I was doing, and so I took him further into my mouth, bobbing my head up and down vigorously. It was difficult to keep this up for too long at a time though, purely because he was so damn big - but Steve seemed fine with anything I did as long as I was giving his dick enough attention. Soon, he began to twitch slightly in my mouth, his moans getting louder and his breathing quickening, to which he quickly pulled me off of him with a satisfying pop! He stood up over me kneeling on the floor, jerking his cock vigorously. “Where do you want it angel? Want me to cum in your mouth like the good slut you are? Say it, come on. Tell me, baby.”

“Please cum in my mouth, I’ll take it all in,” I whined - this act alone only served to encourage Steve further.

“Want you to beg for it properly,” he muttered under his breath, and it took a moment before the gears finally clicked in my head.

“Please, Sir. I want to swallow your cum like the good princess I am for you,” I moaned, feeling myself begin to dampen again. This seemed to work, as barely a minute later the man above me was moaning loudly himself as he reached his own climax, the hot spurts of cum streaming down my throat. As soon as he had finished, I swallowed, opening my mouth to show him that nothing remained in there.

We took a moment to both catch our breath from the experience, and he was the first one to speak. “I think I’ve got my magic touch back, but do you wanna test that theory back at my place?”

“You’re on, Harrington.”

“Hey, that’s Sir to you, princess.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #joe keery #joe keery imagine #joe keery smut

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cyncerity · 2 months

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ok this isn’t really a post about the situation but it is a minor update to how i’ll be handling a few of my aus:

the whole rant is under the cut but tldr: the aus i talk about here are Store Shifter, Dad’s Troubles, Flubber, and Epic. Store Shifter and Dad’s Troubles are getting left alone, Flubber is getting a minor recast, and Epic is getting more majorly reworked (mostly character wise, kinda plot wise). As of right now, Wil/crimeboy centric fics are on pause. Not cancelled, but i’ll see later down the road if they need changed or if i can learn to separate the character from the creator. I will be updating the Epic au soon with said reworkings cause i really really really wanna finish that story. I have yet to start and actually finish a chaptered fic and I want this to be my first.

most recently i’ve been posting a few updates on mainly the Store Shifter and Flubber au, while i’ve been kinda working on the Dad’s Troubles and Epic AU in the background.

For the most part, these aus will remain unchanged because you know who either isn’t in them or isn’t a main character. For the Store Shifter, i’m not changing it for now because he isn’t and was never planned to be an important character. I’m just gonna ignore him in that au. Dad’s Troubles he just straight up isn’t in, so that one is unchanged.

Flubber au is a little different: i’m just recasting. He doesn’t have a huge part, but it is a lore important one, so from now on in that story the main antagonist will be Dream (1: he’s easy to stick in the “Tommy’s antagonistic boss” role and 2: i need at least one au where Dream is an antagonist lol). So yeah i’ll make a more official post for that au later.

The main reason for this post tho is the Epic AU, which is one of my personal favorites and i have so much that I want to talk about it for and even a whole bunch of new characters and concepts and world building that I want to post about. However, this au faces a problem for me at this moment: it’s crimeboy centric.

As of right now, I do not feel comfortable updating any of my Wil/crimeboy centric aus/fics. This is not to say I’m discontinuing them, i’m personally very attached to my own fics and a lot of them were written to either help me feel better or to help other people feel better, so I don’t feel right just throwing them away. Also, i will never be deleting my fics or shutting down this account, so I don’t want people to worry there, either. However, I don’t know how comfortable I am with writing for c!Wil rn, especially since this situation is still so fresh and plenty of people haven’t shared their experiences/responses (not to say that I expect anyone to; i don’t expect everything to be handled publicly over twitter). I think in time i’ll be able to separate the character from the actor; unfortunately i’ve been through this before. i’ve seperated characters who were far more like their creator from said creator who had done far worse things (if anyone on this blog has watched TribeTwelve, you know exactly what I’m talking about).

However, even if I eventually decide that I can write c!Wil while separating him from his creator, i don’t know if i’ll ever feel fully comfortable incorporating him in stories with a bigger cast of characters given the cc responses to his actions. Any stories where I have him interacting with people like Ranboo, Tubbo, or especially Niki will likely need to be changed because i don’t feel comfortable portraying them like friends anymore.

I’ve kind of done this before, honestly, i just never posted about it last time: when beeduo first stopped talking publicly, i stopped writing for beeduo. To this day, i have a fuck ton of beeduo requests in my inbox that i never got to and may not ever write because i didn’t feel comfortable writing their characters being close when in real life they may have had a falling out or now hated each other (so, so sorry to the people that sent those btw). Over time, most people started to realize that it was because of the crazy amount of shipping. It was bad during the dsmp and only got worse when Ranboo came out and all the speculation over Tubbo’s sexuality hit its peak when he’d made it very clear that crossed his boundaries. After realizing their silence was likely just them trying to shut up a more toxic part of both of their fanbases, i became a bit more comfortable writing them as friends again. I still haven’t made any beeduo centric fics or stories since then cause i don’t know the full story of what happened between them, this is all just speculation, but i at least have them be friends as supporting characters in aus i’ve already made.

All this to say that the way i handle the rest of my aus really depends on how things play out more with the situation. Again, it’s still new and i’m still gathering my thoughts. I can think about it more clearly now that i’ve gotten over the shock, which is why i’m posting this, but not every decision will be finalized immediately.

However, back to the Epic AU, it will be getting a rework in a lot of ways. I’m changing up the cast, and i’ve decided to cut Wil entirely because 1: i’m impatient and this is an au that i really wanna start up again and keep working on right now and 2: in the au i have him being friends with Ranboo and Dream and Tubbo and again that’s just not something i feel super comfortable with rn. So, i’m recasting and minorly changing the plot so i can update that one soon cause honestly i just miss it. I’ve still got so many asks and art requests (Becky sent me an art request like almost a year ago now and istg i’m gonna fucking draw it if it kills me) and there was a whole nother species i teased a bunch and then just…never told you about.

So yeah expect an update on the Epic AU soon and thank you for reading this entire fucking essay. As a little bonus for taking your time to read this, i’ll give you a hint for the next au im working on: karlnapity and vampires >:)

Eat, drink water, and get a good nights rest, take care of yourself <3

#cyncerity #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #cynpsa #mcyt g/t community

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blurrypop · 3 months

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decided to watch that Heathers TV series. here are my thoughts on episode one (written as I’m watching it):

• I actually like the intro. watching JD’s mom kill herself was a good hook and the title sequence was fun

• it’s kinda surreal seeing Heathers in a modern setting. Veronica looks so different

• I kinda like the theme with Veronica not knowing who she is. I think it works well with her character in the movie and musical. Although, I don’t like it being framed through the “you need to be a minority” lens.

• Oh the Heathers’ fashion sense dose NOT slay. IDK it just doesn’t feel right

• No way in hell did Heather C just say “How Banana Republic“” (although I will give them props for the third nipple line. I can imagine Heather C saying that)”

• I feel like in a real life high school the Heathers would be outcasts if they pulled the political activist bullshit they did to Ram

• JD has his first speaking lines and he’s already spewing nihilistic and possibly conservative bs. 10/10

• “No girls on the girls restroom” actually made me chuckle.

• I’m starting to get a vibe that the showrighters are trying to make this edgy and appeal to teenagers by just inserting “shocking” or “pop culture” words in normal sentences (oh my clit, my third nipple, banana republic, latte). it feels kinda forced most of the time

• Veronica’s parents being glued to their iPads makes sense

• Heather C did not want to be embarrassed at a party- she decided to wear an ugly cat outfit that I would’ve found cool when I was 6 (i’m all for wearing what makes you happy, but for the love of god don’t make your alpha bitch popular girl character dress like a 6 y/o)

• I’m not even halfway through ep 1 and this show feels like a right-wing interpretation of leftist youth that you’d find in those memes labeled as “satire” or “dark humor.” like, it’s not a good satire, but it also isn’t a very good critique

• why did JD just climb through Veronica’s window and read her diary? like, they talked once. at least have them kiss

• If they don’t make gay Ram and Kurt a thing in this show then I will be thoroughly disappointed in the writers

• The party scene at the snappy snack shack was actually super cute

• ISTG these writers are just taking random lines from Heathers, changing them a bit, and putting them in the completely wrong place. like the nazi bullet line dose not work with pills bc why would hitler carry around a pill to induce vomiting?

• i- i don’t think slipping a pill into a bag of corn nuts would kill heather cause like… she’d notice the pill. but they also passed up a great opportunity to comment on drug culture among teens. like- have Heather C be addicted and take unknown drugs from Veronica and JD

• JD definitely didn’t grab the “wrong pills.”

• Why were the adults so concerned with which minority group was “popular?”

• Why is everyone teaming up against Heather M?

• what is LGBTQQIAP?

• Betty Finn taking the stand to give Heather C’s eulogy. What a twist! I love you Betty.

• Man, now I’m wondering how they would handle Martha Dunnstock. Honestly, she could have been used to critique how body positivity can oftentimes exclude people

• JD’s dad was done well. I can see how JD turned out the way he is because of his dad.

• WTF? Heather C is alive??? The internet is gonna hate her when they find out she’s alive

#heathers #heathers tv #tv review #tv shows #tv series

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pointparadox · 1 year

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My Issues With Blind (In No Particular Order)

Now I am not above admitting I was wrong so if these questions are answered in the drama and I just missed it then please do tell but so far here are all my qualms:

1. How did Yoon-Jae and Sung-Hoon actually get Sung-Joon to believe he was Yoon-Jae?

I understand the whole story about Yoon-Jae pushing Sung-Joon off of the playground set and everything, but `1) amnesia would definitely not happen from such a minor fall like that, especially when he did not fall headfirst and 2) How did they get Sung-Joon to remember the fact that he is Yoon-Jae from the Hope Center but not the fact that the information is coming from Sung-Joon? It just seemed like tacky plot armor. I literally rolled my eyes when Sung-Joon conveniently remembered that after Yoon-Jae pushed him down a flight of stairs (another thing that would not cause someone to regain memory). I know Yoon-Jae made some off-hand comment about “the shock therapy working” but there is no way in hell that LITTLE BOY got his hands on a torture device.

2. Why did the parents adopt Sung-Hoon?

I don’t understand what part of the story explained the reasoning for this. Sung-Hoon delivers the personal account of the atrocities of the Hope Center, Judge Ryu ignores them, and then somehow time skips to the judge adopting him? Like it would be one thing if they adopted him out of shame for what happened at the center but it seemed like he didn't care when he dismissed Sung-Hoon’s petition so what really changed?

3. Why did Sung-Hoon admit he was an accomplice -- better yet, how did he even get sentenced?

This one irks me the most because, unlike Yoon-Jae, all of the evidence against Sung-Hoon was circumstantial. Yes, Sung-Hoon saw him leave the wedding banquet but the cameras did not--even if Yoon-Jae testified against him there was not a single time in which it was implied that there was anything that connected him so why the hell did he confess? It makes me feel like there must have been some scenes that I was missing because one second he is fighting with Sung-Joon out in the rain and the other he is in jail; I don’t think we even saw anyone read him his rights.

4. How were the police so inefficient?

Now I understand that they were working under a corrupt chief but it is not like anyone listened to that dude--they were essentially working on their own. How does the police not have software that can show them what Yoon-Jae would realistically look like 20 years later--I know it’s a thing that exists also faces do not really change *that* much so upon seeing Yoon-Jae and Sung-Hoon the police chief and Crazy Dog should have realized it was them way sooner.

5. What is the point of making Yoon-Jae and Crazy Dog fight to the death?

I guess there's no technical issue with this It just seemed like such a big fuck you to victims of abuse that might have resonated with the character kind of. Like did he really have to lose his life just to avenge the other children? I am in no way saying Yoon-Jae is a saint (though I firmly believe he is also not a psychopath) but c'mon why couldn’t he get this one win against someone who was a lot worse than him

6. What is the random switch-up between Sung-Hoon, Sung-Joon, and Yoon-Jae?

I saved my biggest issue for last but I feel like these characters all acted in such a contradictory way to how they have been written since the beginning of the drama. To start with Sung-Hoon; I think his switching up on Sung-Joon out of nowhere in the last few episodes and completely dropping the facade is so tacky. It’s not like Sung-Hoon was ever an emotional character, to begin with so I feel like they didn’t have to try and make him comically evil with the whole “Ooo guess what I'm going to do next Sung-Joon ooo I never liked you I just wanted to use you Sung-Joon oooo I don’t care about you at all Yoon-Jae” bullshit. I find it hard to believe he didn’t care about Yoon-Jae at all, and while I think it’s fair for him to say that maybe he never thought of Sung-Joon as a brother (since it’s probably hard to think of the man who raped your sister and his wife as parents) I don’t think it’s fair to say that he never cared about Sung-Joon. I wish they dug into that concept of Sung-Hoon maybe not feeling any brotherly connection to Sung-Joon but still looking out for him because he feels bad for him. We know Sung-Hoon can feel emotions towards people: he felt genuine hurt and rage when Yu-Na was killed so I find it hard to believe that he didn’t have any sort of connection to Sung-Joon (especially when he also told Yoon-Jae to spare Eun-Ki and made sure her only punishment would be finding out about who her father really was) since he is essentially the same as Eun-Ki in the sense of being born to people who did bad things.

On the topic of brotherly connection, I also find it unrealistic that Sung-Joon can switch to hating his brother so quickly. I don’t expect him to condone Sung-Hoon’s action’s in any way, but the scene where Sung-Hoon tried to take his life and then Sung-Joon came and called him a coward and said that he hoped he would live in pain for the rest of his life or whatever was so random? I was expecting an emotional outburst, yes, but I feel like something that would be more in character for him would be the continuation of the whole “How could you do this to me when I did all this for you” thing they have going on (which is how the interaction did start but alas). I just thought it was weird.

Finally, for Yoon-Jae, why did they make him so comically evil after the reveal? Every interrogation scene made me roll my eyes because they just made him act like the Joker in all of them and it was just so overdone. Sung-Joon calling him a “psycho who is obsessed with murder” was annoying too because it’s like--you’re missing the whole point he’s not doing this cause he enjoys killing people he’s doing this cause he was backed into a corner by his abusers. It’s one thing to not condone his actions but to completely ignore what got him to that point just seemed foolish (which is also what I have to say about Eun-Ki).

I personally think that the show should have gone more into the brotherly relationship between Yoon-Jae and Sung-Hoon because it’s like yeah we see that Yoon-Jae feels betrayed by Sung-Hoon but why should he be? They did no development on that and honestly hindsight 20/20 the whole “Sung-Joon on the run” arc should have been a lot shorter to allow more time to develop this relationship.

7. Why is everyone except Sung-Hoon allowed to be corrupt?

The whole basis of this show is how corrupt bad people can be (the police chief, the guy trying to bribe Sung-Hoon in episode 1, the producer, the taxi driver, Crazy Dog) so I don’t see why Sung-Hoon, Yoon-Jae, and Charles couldn’t have gotten off under the same basis of corruption. Like you cannot tell me this man is gonna work his ass off and become a judge, orchestrate a whole string of murders with literally nothing technically connecting him to them, and then go to jail because of his OWN CONFESSION when he could have just used his status as a well-known judge (and one that refuses to do anything that isn't by the books) to just deny (hell, he wouldn't even look guilty so he doesn't even need to do that) and then stack the jury so Yoon-Jae could get a not guilty charge. Call it tacky, but them doing that would make so much more sense than them just putting their hands in the air and going to jail/committing suicide.

That’s all I got for now but if I think of anything I guess I’ll add it. The ending of this show just seems so drab and dull; I don’t really understand what the theme or point is supposed to be. Sung-Joon’s monologue about “oh if they had someone like Eun-Ki things would have probably been different...what a shame :/” like no shit sherlock if Eun-Ki was there they probably also wouldn’t be used for slave labor like...it was just so random. The acting was great, but the writing and plotting just took a nosedive I am afraid.

Also. the bury your gays (or idk homosexual leaning) thing that happened with Charles and Yoon-Jae was so tacky I’m sorry.

#blind kdrama #tvN blind #kdrama blind #blind 2022 #blind tvn #Ryu Sung Joon #Ryu Sung Hoon #jung yoon jae #ehhh it was a 5/10 i guess #it had some interesting concepts but i dont like how they built upon it #murder is bad yeah we know its kinda more than that though isnt it

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thegoblinboy · 11 months

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So I’m bored and I’ve been considering it, and I think I’m going to actually follow through.

✨one shot requests✨

18+ only (minors please don’t interact)

If you have an idea, or concept you want to see written send it in to my ask box! It’s not 100% guaranteed to get a one shot, and if it doesn’t I’ll still toss ideas out there for it and maybe one of my followers might want to write it!

I write mostly Steddie, but I’m willing to do any platonic ship and Chrissy x Robin. (Though if there is another ship that’s romantic I’ll consider accepting your request)

I can deny some of the requests because they make me uncomfortable! Remember I don’t owe you anything.

I’m also doing this because I enjoy interacting with others! And i feel like I haven’t done much of that on here. So please send something in! I’ll gladly respond :)

(I’m a whore for attention and will do anything for it)

Asks can be anything! Requests for a one shot, gushing over a head cannon, just dropping in to say hi literally anything. Though if it’s a hate filled ask I’ll still respond because like I said I’m a whore for attention and you’re feeding me in a problematic way but still feeding me 😎

Writing Example;

"Chris, I think you need to cut back on 'The Last Of Us', It might be getting to your head because I will not die from foot fungus." He laughs gently, a small snort leaving him before he turns his head to look back forward. Carefully nodding his head in acknowledgement to a group of kids that he recognized from school. Wincing as his feet lands back onto dry pavement, causing him to bounce a little bit again, hearing the slight laughter from a couple of people around him.

"Athletes foot existed way before that show started to air Munson," Chrissy snorts out as she moves her hand up to her hair, that was down past her shoulders only for a second before she had to tie it up into ponytail for the pool. Wearing two hair ties on her wrist, one that was for her and the other for Eddie. Who had been too distracted with the idea of seeing a boy back from the dead then swimming or looking up pool rules."Now, don't change the topic! Did you? Or did you not come only for Steve Harrington?" She accuses, walking a bit faster to playfully poke the back of the others right shoulder. Green sandals slapping the scolding pavement loudly, nearly hitting the others heels in the process.

"Well there was that one other time when Johnny Depp's face randomly popped up in an ad when I was watching po-"

"Ew, don't you dare finish that sentence dude or I seriously jump in this pool and drown myself." Chrissy's nose is scrunched up at him in disgust. Gagging lightly as she quickly adds, "And there's children!" She squeals a little bit as they finally find the worst spot to sit at. A small area near the corner of the fence that everyone avoided due to the amount of ants that lived in said corner. Both of them scrunch their noses up at the sight of bugs, Eddie being extra careful not to squish any from underneath him as he held a battle with his sensitive feet.

"Well, you did ask me if I've ever come for anyone but Steve Harrington." Eddie comments with a sleazy smile, tilting his head to look away from the ground back to Chrissy. He knew exactly what he was doing as he keeps squirming around, eyes fleeting down to the towel that the other was carrying along with the bag filled with their things. Snapping his fingers at her to drop the towel to the ground, being impatient. Still doing a slight jig in attempt at making sure to keep his feet from burning to a crisp.

"I should let your feet burn off," She playfully growls, setting the bag down off to the side first, furthest away from the bugs as possible. Purposely not setting the towel down to the ground, knowing exactly what she was doing before quickly rolling up the towel in a tight twist. Swinging it in a small circle to get the twist effect before moving forward and slapping the others side with it, causing a loud slapping noise to go over the buzzing sound of chatter that surrounded them. Eddie yelps out, hand flying to his side skin turning a light pink with little goosebumps forming from where the towel impacted. Now hopping up and down in a little circle, hissing from the pain of his feet and his side. "Feet still hurt?" The girl teases, batting her eyelashes at him playfully. Breaking out in soft giggles when he begins to glare at her, though a softness still left in his demeanor.

"You abuse me woman," he whines in complaint right as she finally lays the towel out evenly on the ground. Barely getting it on the ground before Eddie's standing on top of it with a dramatic sigh. "Poor things were about to turn into fried dogs." He jokes, referencing his feet in a way that he knew Chrissy hated. Earning a small pinch at the fattiest part of his arm, causing him to giggle manically at the other. Closing his eyes for a second as the sun flashes itself into his eyes, blinding him leaving him to only be able to hear Chrissy digging into her bag loudly. Moving item after item around with soft clacks.

After a minute of hearing this, a soft "aha," was heard signaling Eddie to open his eyes to catch sight of Chrissy holding a ugly orange bottle. His nose scrunches up immediately when he sees the horribly animated sun with sunglasses on and goo going down the right side of its face. It was a horrible image and whoever approved it had some serious issues. He's pretty sure he could draw a logo that looked ten times better then that. Realization dawns on him when he realizes that the girl was going to try and put that stuff on him! He hated the feel of cold cream against his skin, and was already coming up with scenarios in his head on how he was going to drown himself as quickly as possible.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #bxb #steveharrington #steveddie #eddie stranger things #steve and eddie #Stobin #asks #one shot request #my requests are open

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firespirited · 2 years

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it’s been over a year and i’m still thinking about how Wonder Egg Priority was going to be an anime cultural reset like we hadn’t seen in years and then promptly Game of Thrones’ed itself. 4 teen girls dealing with survivors guilt and the pains of girlhood written with great care and insight, who find eachother and messily heal while doing magical battle with the embodiment of traumas that caused other girls to feel like death was the only option. It didn’t matter if the magic deal was a trap because they were getting stronger and doing something with their grief, it was not going to be easy and there were going to be falling outs and setbacks but those four characters mattered.

Then hard genre u-turn! This psychological exploration of a misogynistic society is now a generic senseless horror story: you see, suicide happens because you get haunted by the cutesy demon of wanting death. Guess the girls are going to have to fight her or save her somehow! You want answers? Here have rogue AI, student teacher relationships, genetic experiments and evil twins instead. oh it’s cancelled. The end.

I don’t mind genre changes, I like the subversion: oh you thought this was a monster story but the real monsters are in the house with you? Oh you thought this was rambo but no, arhnold is going to be hunted like a final girl. You thought this was a bromance, woops they’re kissing! Love triangle? no he’s my brother. Why’s this evil child tormenting this poor guy? You go evil child!

I mean Battlestar Galactica switched it up regularly between sci-fi and political thriller, dystopia, personal identity and interpersonal drama. It was fine until they had characters going out of character and said this is how the human race started and also you’re going to enact this same thing... because gods are real and they said so.

So this is my plea to the void: End of Evangelion but it’s End of Egg, we retcon some stuff as a lie told by the guys with the eggs or an imagined past by an AI glitch and take it from there. Maybe it’s an unethical psych study but it’s helped them out of their inertia so they bring it to others without that final boss that tries to keep you trapped in game. Maybe the magic is real and each girl taps a new person when they’re done fighting and ready for the acceptance phase. Maybe frill is a sentient system bug or a manifestation of the illusion of agency and the flipside of self blame and it takes all four friends to cure her of her fantasy that she causes/wants death instead of it being a complex social problem. Just 30 minutes, doesn’t have to be seamlessly animated, doesn’t have to answer everything and give us a “ten years later they all were happy with careers and babies”, just that third act of forward movement that undoes the series original ending. WEP the OVA: it was a deception, there is a short explanation and minor resolution, the girls start suicide clubs across schools to destigmatise mental health. ta da.

Edit: I have since found out about the show writer and seen his ugly fingerprints all over the show's undertones. WEP would have to be written and heavily reconned by someone new, preferably a team of women. Maybe someday we'll get a decent show about girlhood trauma that isn't sentimental dreck or misery porn. The Leftovers is excellent: 3 seasons that gradually delve into magical realism and back, including teens and multiple complex women's perspectives.

#saf #wonder egg priority #anime

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duskholland · 3 years

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Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

tom was having a really nice day until the metropolitan police decided to crash his date. or, when the law finally catches up to london’s most notorious mobster, tom learns that nothing is fair in love and war.

word count ↠ 15k. warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, alcohol, a car chase, extensive depictions of prison, violence (very minor injury detail), tattooing, pregnancy, bad language, smut! there are extended nsfw warnings below the cut but this is 18+ so minors please do not interact. a/n ↠ this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be taken 100% seriously! similarly to every other fic I’ve written about mob!tom, I don’t condone any of the actions shown in this story and all depictions of the mob and prison are entirely fictional. please do not date members of the mafia even if they are tom holland !!!!! + this fic was conceptualised before the release of cherry, and there are no purposeful links to the content of that film! the image from esquire that I’ve used is what led me down this path lmfao...esquire I love/hate you. ++ the biggest thank you ever to the wonderful @uglypastels for helping me with the initial brainstorm on this one, and for just generally being so supportive as I’ve struggled with writers block :’) I wouldn’t have ever been able to think this up let alone have the motivation to write this without you, so thank you and ily z <3 +++ there is a pov change halfway through this fic! it is intentional and you should be able to see it pretty easily but I’m just flagging it so you don’t think I lost it halfway through ahahha. enjoy!

nsfw warnings ↠ car sex, soft!dom!tom ft minor sir kink, oral and fingering (fem-receiving), multiple orgasms with brief refs to overstimulation, minor pregnancy kink, unprotected sex ft cumshot.

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

There’s something wrong with you, and Tom can’t quite put his finger on it.

He wonders if it’s the wine. He’d spent hours debating the type of grape and ideal bitterness, scouring his memory in search of the perfect blend to share with you on your date. Eventually, he’d settled on the same deep red that he’d shared with you the first time he’d visited your flat, back when your love was just a small spark. Three years have passed since then, the nerves of early romance melted away and replaced by knowing and love, but the wine has recurred each time one of you has decided to treat the other, so what better blend to bring along to the picnic that Tom had so meticulously planned?

You haven’t touched your glass, and Tom—for all his confidence and charm—is deeply unsettled by this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for what feels like the tenth time, with brows furrowed so tightly his forehead aches. Tom reaches across the gingham blanket to join your fingers together, surprised to feel the clamminess of your skin as you gently squeeze his hand.

You hum. “I’m fine,” you say, voice devoid of any intense emotion. You sigh softly before bringing your eyes to meet Tom’s, and the man feels his heart constrict in his chest. You’re perfect, even with your hair messy from the light spring wind and the nerves that sit across your face. When you squeeze his hand again, and Tom glances down to see the engagement ring on your fourth finger, the ache in his heart sharpens.

He never knew love could be this fulfilling, nor so easy. Breathing is harder than it is to love you.

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you want to go home?”

You’ve been so quiet for the entire date, which is strange because usually, you match his energy effortlessly. Tom has been away for a few weeks doing business in Liverpool, and this date by the river is the first time you’ve been properly alone since he returned. He’d really expected you to enjoy the date—or, on a very basic level, at least look like you want to be here. With your quiet answers, avoidance, and nervous stares, he can’t confidently say that you do.

You shake your head. “No, no.” You fiddle with some of his rings before pulling your hand away from his. As you sit up a little straighter, you turn away from Tom to stare instead at the River Thames.

The river behind you is lit by the mid-afternoon sun and flooded with boats. It’s such a lovely day that Tom almost doesn’t notice the horrible brown tinge to the water. Lining the bank are small groups of people—families, friends, couples, tourists. They all stay clear of the two of you, undoubtedly wary of the security guards lingering near their boss. He rarely goes out so obviously like this, but you’ve always loved London, and he’d wanted to treat you. He’d wanted this to be a nice day.

“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he checks, voice catching slightly.

Your eyes snap up to his quickly. “Tom,” you say, voice wrapped endearingly around his name. Moving easily, you slip closer to him, carefully shifting around the food and the glasses until you’re close enough to reach out and touch his cheek. “I love you.”

Tom’s teeth graze his lower lip as he feels you pad your thumb across his jaw. “I know,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze. “I love you too.” He pauses for a few moments, savouring the closeness and the scent of your rosy spritz. He’d missed you so much that it almost hurts to have you so close again. “I know you have something on your mind, darling… Can you tell me what it is? I want to help you.”

“I…” A breathy exhalation follows. You bring your hand away from his cheek and rest it on the red silk material covering his shoulder. He’s in a loose designer shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned and showing off the silver-linked chain he has hanging from his neck. “Tom, I just…”

“What?”

A small smile twitches at your lips. “Not here,” you seem to decide, voice a little stronger. “I have something I need to show you.”

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

Tom feels the weight rolls from his shoulders. It’s fine—everything is fine. You want to let him in, want to trust him with the cause of your anxieties. You still want him.

“Let’s go, then,” he decides, knowing he’s far too impatient to spend another hour laying by the river. Tom offers you a hand, and you take it. He tugs you away from the picnic setup with ease. He doesn’t need to bother with putting the things away—someone else will do it. Just one of the perks of his job.

“I missed you,” you say, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand as you walk together towards the car. “It gets lonely without you in the house. Our bed is ridiculously huge without two people in it.”

Tom chuckles. “Good job I’m back now then, eh?”

The noise you release is stacked full of so much relief it makes Tom feel guilty for ever leaving to begin with. As he watches the bright, genuine smile flow across your face when you meet his eyes, he resolves to never leave for business again. Never. Not without you.

“A very good job,” you clarify. When you reach the car together, Tom holds the door open for you, ushering you in dramatically until you’re laughing and making fun of him for fussing. The only way he can stop you from your jovial whines is by leaning across the dashboard and pressing his lips to yours, so really he can’t complain. “This car is stupid, too,” you decide.

“Oh, that’s too fucking far,” Tom murmurs, glancing in the rear mirror as he peels away from the pavement. He’s glad the air between you has lightened. You seem happier now you’ve decided to spill your secrets. He rests his hand on the back of your headrest as he twists in his seat, eyes on the road as he reverses. “This car is a beauty.”

“This car is confusing,” you say, and Tom feels you staring at the flex of his bicep. “I tried driving it when you were gone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm. Couldn’t even get it up the drive.”

“Well, not to be rude, darling, but it’s hardly fair to blame my beautiful car for the fact that you’re an atrocious driver.”

If looks could kill, Tom knows he’d be six feet under.

“Fuck you, Tom,” you seethe, but your voice is charged with laughter. “I take it back. I didn’t miss you at all. Go back to Liverpool, see if I care.”

Tom cackles. “Maybe I will,” he teases, “just to see how long it takes you to start begging for me to come back again.”

You grumble something incoherent at that, then the words between you lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, you shift your palm to rest on his thigh, your hand gentle, warm. Your fingertips trace tiny love hearts over his slacks.

“Don’t,” you say eventually, voice quieter. “Stay this time.”

Tom risks a quick glance to you, growing breathless in the depths of your eyes. “Of course,” he says, voice thick. Tom returns his gaze to the road, his chest feeling tight. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“I mean, you can leave sometimes if you want—”

“No. Never.” Tom’s cheeks ache. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“Alright, Tom.” You sigh lightly, feigning exasperation. “I guess there are worse things than being stuck with you.”

“I’m charmed, darling. So relieved you like spending time with your fiancé.”

You shift in your seat at that, and Tom doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re flustered. You’re always shyer around him when he mentions the fact that your futures are intertwined, almost unbelieving that he’d slipped that ring onto your finger. It doesn’t matter how many times Tom tells you that he cherishes you—you never quite make peace with the fact that he wants to chase the moon with you. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop telling you, though. You hang the stars in his sky.

“I love spending time with you, Tom,” you mumble. “And I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t change how you feel about me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Wait— what?” Tom scrunches the tip of his nose up as he squints in your direction. “Y/N, what—” He pauses, concentrating on keeping his voice level. “Angel, nothing you could ever do would change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

You smile quietly. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add, almost sensing his unease. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Perfect.” Tom sits a little straighter in his seat. “Then there’s nothing to worry about—”

Sirens cut into his words. Tom startles, glancing in the mirror to see a police car with a whirring blue siren perched atop the grimy vehicle.

“Tom,” you say slowly, voice filling with dread. Your tone sends shivers down his spine. “Did you do something?”

Tom bites his lip.

He’s been trying his best to stay above the law recently, but… Liverpool had been messy. Very messy. He hadn’t intended on things going quite as terribly as they had, but one thing had led to another, and he’d had to fuck a few things up. The crime is nothing as intense as he’s been booked for in the past, but he’d had to write a few irregularities into his taxes and business agreements to smooth over the waters. It’s not as bad as murder, but it’s tax fraud nonetheless.

Tom had thought he’d been fine. Apparently not. He’s been a hot target for the Metropolitan Police for years, and they’ve consistently unearthed every tiny discrepancy he’s tried to get away with. He should’ve been more fucking careful.

“Shit,” Tom mutters. As he brings his eyes back to the road in front of him, he realises the police car behind you has been joined by another two, closing in from side streets and boxing him in amongst the traffic. He swallows thickly. “I messed up.”

You curse. “Idiot,” you mutter. You sit forwards in the seat and start to point to a gap in the traffic, right across the square. “Go there,” you say, voice pitching higher. “If you go fast, you’ll make it.”

He could book it. Tom’s run away before, in situations of peril where the alternative had been the law and escaping would give him the chance to alter some books and clear his name. It would be easy to slam his foot on the accelerator and dive down side streets, dodging the thick London traffic.

“Tom!” you say again, voice stressed with desperation. “Tom, go!”

The gap in the traffic is narrowly closing, the window of time Tom has to zoom through and get to safety shrinking before his very eyes. If he was alone, he’d do it without a second thought, but you’re here.

You’re here, and that means he can’t be selfish. Tom couldn’t ever risk you, not with such a treacherous manoeuvre like the one that you’re suggesting, nor with the repercussions you’d face if he books it. You’d either have to come on the run with him, or you’d end up captured and grilled by the Met, and neither of those options is the types of things he’d ever bring willingly upon you. You would never deserve that, and he refuses to make it a possibility.

Tom slows down the car.

“Tom,” you say, shock filling your voice. “What are you doing? They’ll get you.”

He nods. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully,” he says quickly.

“But—”

“—Darling, please. Please.” Tom stops the car abruptly. He calculates he has mere seconds before the officers ditch their vehicles and start storming across the traffic to haul him from his seat. “Don’t say anything to them. They want me, not you.” He turns off the engine and grabs your hands, holding them close as he stares into your eyes. “Call Harrison. Whatever shit they’re bringing me in for won’t hold up for long. They’ve— they’ve done this before. They never win. We have backup plans for this crap.”

“Tom,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears, “but they—”

“I know. I know, baby. I know.” He presses quick kisses to your knuckles, clinging so tightly to your fingers it’s like he’ll drift away without your touch. “I’m sorry. I am so bloody sorry. I love you so much.”

His throat hurts. The sight of the pain in your eyes makes him hate himself for ever bringing you into this faithless way of life. He doesn’t give a fuck that he’s destined for a cell—Tom cares that he’s hurt you.

“I love you too,” you say. You lean closer, undoing your seatbelt and popping his too as you reach up to cup Tom’s cheeks in your shaky hands. “It’ll be okay,” you stress. “I’ll get you out of there, baby.”

You lean in closer to kiss him, and Tom aches. The scent of your perfume is overwhelming, and he feels fragile beneath the hold you have on his face. The kindness in your eyes makes it hurt even more. It’d be easier if you’d let fury consume you and spend these last sacred moments denouncing him instead of loving him, but of course, you’re not like that.

The car door opens, and Tom is hauled from the car the moment his lips touch yours. Before he can process it, he’s being pushed up against his car, stiff arms keeping him pinned in place. He closes his eyes, firming up his face and shoving down his feelings as he forces himself to dry up, become stoic. He won’t show weakness now he’s outside.

Tom hears you exit the vehicle a few moments later, the crash of the door coupled with a few scuffles. He drowns out the words of the officers whilst they reel off a list of fabricated crimes, smugness evident in their voices. Good for fucking them.

When they eventually release him, he’s cuffed and weaponless, his spirit bent in two. The metal of his car had hurt his face, but nothing breaks Tom’s heart more than the sight of you being held back by two officers, tears streaming down your face. You bring your hands into the shaky outline of a heart, and it’s the last thing he sees before he’s pushed into the back of a van.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

It’s clear that everyone at the station has been waiting for him to fuck up. He’s met with sly smiles and teasing comments as he’s reacquainted with some of his most despised wardens and guards. He’s held in a temporary cell for almost a day and quizzed on the shreds of ‘evidence’ they’d procured from his house during a raid, and though Tom declines to answer every single question they throw at him, their smugness never fades.

He walks into the trial already knowing he’s going to be locked up, and not even the sight of you beside Harrison and Harry on the benches soothes him.

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

Now, Tom isn’t worried. He knows he won’t actually be held in a cell for that long. He’s already had correspondence with Harrison, who’s assured him that he’s working on it, and there’s really nothing much to worry about. Tom has been in this situation twice before, and on both occasions, he’d been released in less than a month. The connections he’s built from his years heading up the mob are reliant and unwavering, and he knows he won’t have to serve even a fifth of his sentence.

The only difference between the times before and now is you, and Tom can only fucking pray that you don’t despise him for dirtying your name with his crimes. You’d been normal before him—a waitress, aspiring painter, an innocent. Despite your insistence that you love him with all strings attached, his guilt weighs him down. He doesn’t give a fuck about the law and whatever twisted loopholes the jury had bought, but he does care about you and what you think of him. That’s the hardest part.

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

Prison isn’t that bad for Tom. He’s pretty fucking lucky, all things considered. He has friends here—blokes he’d met around town, most of whom are willing to welcome him in. A few of his old guys are locked behind bars with him, unwavering in their loyalty and more than happy to absorb him as members of their group. Those who don’t know Tom know of him. His reputation as a murderous, cold-hearted killer follows him inside, regardless of its falsity. Tom hasn’t taken a life in three years, but these men don’t need to know that.

“Holland! Get the fuck up. You’re in the gym.”

Tom glances up. He’s lying on top of his bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other holding open a book. He isn’t an avid reader like you, but you’d sent him a copy of your favourite book with scribbled annotations in the margins, and he’s been spending every hour since its arrival clinging to the pages.

He sighs as he puts the book down and stands from the lower bunk. He’s in with a young lad, Ollie, booked on a minor drugs charge. Why they’d paired someone on such a minimal sentence with a member of the mob, Tom will never understand, but the fear in the lad’s eyes every time he looks at him is enough to keep his wavering ego bobbing just above the waterline.

“Step away from the door.”

Tom does as instructed. A moment later, there’s a loud buzzer followed by the swinging of the heavy metal door.

In walks Luther, Tom’s archnemesis. If the inmates fear him, the guards despise him, and to be fair, Tom understands why. He’s a bit of a dick when he’s behind bars. Usually, when he’s free, he operates with a level of poise and charm that comes with his position as leader. He speaks to his men with a firm but kind hand, respects everyone he deems his equal and commands supreme authority without becoming a tyrant. However, when he has his freedom stripped away, and he has to bend to fit the system’s will, his attitude becomes… problematic.

“Holland,” Luther barks. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, coughing loudly, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. He snarls at Tom, his voice like jagged glass. “Come on.”

“You alright, mate?” Tom asks. “You sound fucking terrible.” He looks it, too, with a dripping nose and red-rimmed eyes. He looks ill.

Luther’s features sharpen. “Get over here now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom swaggers to the door and dodges a little as Luther cuffs him, the man digging the metal into his skin with extra ferocity. They start to march down the long, grey corridor towards the fitness suite, Luther prodding Tom forward with a hand digging into his back.

“How’s your wife?” Tom tries, tired of the echoing footsteps.

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

The guard tuts. “Does she like having a criminal for a husband?”

“Does yours like being married to such a wanker— hey!”

Luther pushes him down the corridor with haste. “Quiet, Holland,” he mutters. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Well, then it’s too bad you’re stuck with me,” Tom replies. “Did you know that if me being here annoys you so much, you could always let me go? That would sort out your problem.”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah? Let London’s most wanted convict escape?”

Tom raises a brow. “London’s most wanted?” he echoes. “Wow.” Pride seeps into his voice. “That’s an accomplishment.”

“Not a positive one. Self-absorbed bastard.”

It’s easy to laugh. Letting the comments bounce off his back is easier than admitting the jibe about you has irked him. Do you like having a criminal for a partner? Even Tom, for all the world has jaded him, knows no sane person would rest well with the knowledge that their significant other has lied, stolen, and killed. It doesn’t lie well with him, and he was born into this.

They reach the gym.

Tom sticks to the same workout regime he has at home. He does his cardio for twenty minutes on the wobbling treadmill, then sits around on the bench press and does curls with a few of the guys. He keeps quiet, his mind loud, only adding a few comments when necessary. His sullenness adds to his image, and he’s busy with thoughts of you. By the time he’s finished, he feels arguably worse than before. The endorphins from his workout are overshadowed by the guilt Tom feels, clawing at his heart, heavy and persistent in its certainty that he’s a lousy partner.

He can handle being a bad guy, but a bad man? A bad brother, bad friend, or bad lover? The opinions of the guards mean nothing to him, and neither does the law, but when it comes to the people he cares about, their opinions mean everything. Tom has let Luther get into his head, and whilst he knows that was the guard’s intention, the seed of doubt has been planted. As he pumps iron, he feels it grow, taking root, blooming taller.

“Holland. Time to go.”

He grunts as he stands. Sweaty and sore, Tom hobbles to the doorway, feeling considerably smaller than he had when he’d left his cell. The cuffs hurt his wrists as his hands are clasped back together, and the walk back feels even longer than before.

“You had a parcel delivered,” Luther says, breaking the silence. “It arrived last week.”

Tom’s eyebrows pull together. “Last week?”

“I thought I should hold it back until you’d settled in,” comes the patronising response. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many new experiences, Thomas. Not that being in here is anything out of the ordinary for you, though.”

He feels his jaw twitch. He flexes his hand, knuckles burning for movement. Not yet, not yet. He has to wait, has to play the long game.

“You’re a dick,” Tom decides. He doesn’t care that he gets thrown roughly into the cell. He trips over the floor and barely manages to scrape himself to his feet, but he throws out a smirking “fuck you,” before the door slams shut. He’d follow it up with more snide remarks, but he becomes distracted by the sight of the parcel sitting on his bed.

It’s neat, despite the obvious intrusion into its contents by the guards. He flops onto his lower bunk, glad his cellmate is absent as it allows him to drop the ruse. Lips sagging into a frown, Tom rips open the package.

He releases a fragile sound as the contents pour across his duvet. Polaroids fall across the sheets, glistening slightly, neat and pristine. A lump comes to the back of his throat as he shuffles through them, finding images of you, Harry, Sam, Tess… The list carries on. For every person he can think of, there’s an image captured perfectly in time. He even appears in a few of them, with his hand around Haz’s shoulder or his lips pressed to your temple.

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

Tom, I thought you’d want some reminders of home while you’re away. We’re all looking forward until the day you can come home to us. Love you forever, Y/N <3

As Tom traces the edge of his nail along the outline of your face, his eyes well with hot tears. You always know what he needs, even when he doesn’t. You know him, inside out, and you’re continuing to support him, despite it all. He is indebted to you, and he knows already that as soon as he’s let out, he’ll spend every second of his life trying to repay that.

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks later, Tom finally gets to see you again.

The prison visiting room is fucking grim. Toned in sludgy shades of grey and brown, it’s about as ugly as it could be. There are window slits pressed high into the walls, but the primary source of light is from the musky bulbs set above each table. The chairs are uncomfortable, and the decor lacks inspiration. Tom often wonders if the room was designed to be as revolting as possible.

Despite this, as Tom shuffles into the room that smells suspiciously of plasticine, he couldn’t be happier. It doesn’t matter that his wrists ache from the cuffs, nor that the garish shade of orange clashes horrendously against his skin: you’re here, and that makes everything better.

You’re sitting at the table in the corner of the room, drumming your fingers pensively over the surface. His eyes catch on the glinting ring wrapped around your fourth finger, and the sense of longing that had settled in the hollowness of his chest is quickly burnt away. Sensing his movements, you glance up, and when your eyes meet with his, Tom feels his heart come home.

You raise a hand in greeting, smiling shyly, and he tries to look as non-threatening as possible. He knows the new buzzcut and the stupid get-up probably don’t help, but you don’t look at him like he’s any different.

As he draws nearer, Tom finds himself blinking a few times, questioning how long you’ve been separated. The version of you he has holed up in his memories pales in comparison to the woman that he sees before him now, but he can’t quite pinpoint why. You seem fuller somehow—vibrant, glowing, alive, your face doused in a heavenly glow and your skin bright with health. Your figure has changed slightly, and Tom can’t stop himself from running his eyes all over you, trying to memorise every tiny detail his memory had blurred away. You look so beautiful, every single part of your form enhanced and bright, and your chest—

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

“Y/N,” he exhales the moment he’s been pushed into his seat. His guard unclasps his cuffs, and Tom immediately reaches out across the table, almost moaning from relief when you wrap your fingers around his. Your skin is so warm.

“Tom,” you whisper. Emotion seeps into your voice, and he feels his chest crack as tears pool in your eyes. “Are you okay? I— I missed you.”

He hums, biting his lip. “I’m fine, baby. I’m okay. Are you?”

You nod quickly. “I’m okay too,” you say. “Things are strange without you, but we’re working around the clock to get you out of here.” You drop your voice slightly. “I think we’re near a breakthrough.”

Tom’s teeth brush his lower lip. “Good, good,” he says. “How’s Tess? And Harry, and the others? Are they looking out for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. You squeeze Tom’s hands tightly. “They’re all okay. Mainly just worried about you.”

He shrugs, trying to lessen the furrow in your brow. “‘M all good, darling,” he promises. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your eyes skate across his face. “I like your hair,” you say gently. For a moment, Tom thinks you’re going to try and reach out to touch the buzzed fuzz, but you seem to remember that anything beyond handholding is prohibited. You have to settle for a slightly suggestive smile. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, lovie.”

Your smile is sad but it’s still hopeful. Whatever emotions you’re feeling, it’s clear that you’re trying to smooth them away and keep them to yourself. “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” you say, easing into the words with difficulty. Tom watches as you look away, doubt casting across your face.

“What is it?” Vaguely, Tom remembers how skittish you’d been the day he’d been taken away, the memory distorted from the noise of everything else that had happened. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You bite your lower lip. “Uh, just first… how are you holding up in here? Like, actually. Don’t bullshit me and play the tough guy.” Your eyes are wide and persistent. “How are you actually doing?”

Tom blinks a few times. “Fine,” he shoots immediately. He clenches your fingers tightly in his, clinging on for a moment until he exhales. “I wish I could be here for you properly, though. It worries me that I don’t know what’s happening on the outside…” He hates being left out in the dark, but it isn’t your fault. It’s his. “I wish I could be a better boyfriend to you.”

“Fiancé,” you correct, the word soft like it’d left your mouth without thought. “You’re already a good boyfriend, Tom. I knew what I was signing up for. I wanted this back then, and I still do now.”

“Still,” he grumbles. He tries to even out the heaviness of the conversation with a smile. “I think about you all the time, baby. And the others too, but… mostly you. I just hate that I’m missing out on our life together.” He has to stop for a moment as he recollects his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I did this to us, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

You crack a wry smile. “You can’t change the past, Tom. You can only affect the future.” You pause, your expression hardening. “I need to know that you’ll go slower when you get out. I know this is your life, but some things need to change. We— I need you to stay out of trouble. Do you understand?”

He nods his head immediately. “Of course, of course. I don’t ever want to get arrested again, darling.”

You drop your voice. “I’m not saying you need to quit everything, just… get better safeguards and be smarter. I love who you are, Tom, but this…” You break off to gesture around, pointing vaguely at his cuffs, the jumpsuit, and the guards. “This isn’t good for you or for me. And I love you, but I won’t stay if you don’t try.”

It’s hard to hear, but he knows it’s what he deserves to hear. He knows you deserve to stand your ground.

“I know,” Tom says gently. “I’ll get clean when I’m out, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be a good man by you.”

You squeeze his fingers tighter. “You already are,” you promise, “and I love you so much, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Thank you, darling.” Tom tilts his head to the side. “What was it you wanted to say?”

Conflict briefly colours your face, manifesting itself in the arch of your eyebrow and the biting of your lower lip. You inhale sharply, only to exhale again a moment later.

“I’ll tell you when you’re out,” you say softly.

Tom scowls. There’s no anger there, just confusion. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “I… Pretend I never said anything,” you say. You follow it up with a quick, “if I thought you needed to know, I’d tell you.”

He doesn’t want to push it, so Tom lets the topic slip away. You sit together silently for a few minutes. It’s hard to talk, difficult to express how much he misses you, how much he’s sorry. He knows that you understand—you always do, and you have similar tears wobbling across your eyes. Talking can come afterwards when he’s out and he’s free. All he needs now is the feeling of your hand back in his.

The visit is over far too soon.

Leaving you is difficult. Tom isn’t allowed to hug you or go any nearer than the linked hands on the table, but you tug at his fingers until he feels the imprint of your engagement ring rubbing against his skin. He even manages to kiss your knuckles a few times before he’s pulled up from the table and cuffed again.

“Be on your best behaviour,” you say, soft with your parting words. “The lawyer says the better you are, the easier it’ll be to get you out early.”

Tom has a bit of his spark back. Even as he’s pulled back, he manages a devious smirk. “When am I ever not on my best behaviour, darling?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

To be fair, it isn’t really his fault. He’s pushed to the very verge of insanity, prodded at and provoked beyond the point of return.

It happens when he’s in the barber, huddled in the back corner of the room as he gets a new tattoo. Tom is used to the pain of the burning needles as he already has a few pieces on his arms and his hands, so he’s able to take the fresh marks to his knuckles as the ink stains black against his skin. However, he’s a bit on edge from the sharp buzzing, which is perhaps why he responds so negatively to the taunting he starts to receive. It comes from Toni and the rest of his snivelling gang. They’re all members of the East London mob, ruled over by Tom’s nemesis Gordy. Most of the time, they stick to their side and Tom sticks to his, but they’ve caught him in a vulnerable position, and Toni never seems to know how to pick his timing.

It’s basic teasing, instilled with a brutal hard edge that would phase him if Tom cared enough about their opinions of him. It doesn’t hurt him when people attack his character or his honour—Tom knows the truth about his life, and he couldn’t give two shits about an outsider’s opinion of him. However, he finds it a lot harder to grin and bear it when the man changes angle.

“Word is, a couple of our guys saw your missus out with Haz the other day,” Toni taunts. “He said they were getting real close if you know what I mean.”

Tom’s jaw flexes. The action is minute, but it doesn’t go undetected. Toni smirks.

“Eh, you don’t like that, do you?” The man steps a little closer and Tom tries to ignore him by looking down at the needle pressing into his fingers. “Don’t like the idea of your best friend hanging around your wife. Can you even trust them?” He breaks off, laughing coolly. “They think you’re so stupid, did you know that? You’ll get out of here, and they’ll have cut you out of everything—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom murmurs. He flexes his right hand, shaking out his knuckles. With every passing day, he’s felt tetchier. He can feel his anger burning, churning deep within his stomach, growing brighter, harder. He knows he shouldn’t lean into it, but… He wants to. He craves that rush of the fight, selfishly so.

“But she’s not your wife, is she? You aren’t actually married. Have you ever thought that maybe she’s just using you? Maybe they all are? Look at you, Tom.” Toni breaks off to throw a disdainful hand in Tom’s direction. “You are so weak in here… How are any of your guys going to respect you when their leader can’t even stay out the slammer?”

The guy tattooing Tom’s hand finally pulls away, glancing up at him with knowing in his eyes. “You’re done,” he says. “Don’t do anything with that hand, though.”

“Thanks, man.”

Tom stands up, Toni mirroring him. The man looms in front of him, 6’2 and stocky. He’s larger than Tom in every respect, but he’ll never be the bigger man.

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

“Make me, twat.” Toni smirks. “Or are you too much of a pussy to follow through on that as well?”

Tom sees red. Acting on the edge of adrenaline, he pounces, rushing the man and jumping with so much unexpected force that the larger man goes tumbling to the floor. Tom hears the shouts of the guards, but they pale in comparison to his need to straddle the man’s chest and make him pay. With each meeting of his fist with Toni’s face, Tom feels better. He’s never been an excessively violent person, but old habits die hard, and it’s so, so, so fucking easy to pummel the guy who dared breath an uncomplimentary word in his family’s direction. Tom would put the whole city six feet under if they so much as breathed wrong around his loved ones, so really, Toni had it coming.

The prison guards don’t agree.

He ends up in solitary, and when he’s put back into the normal population, Tom is given restrictions. He isn’t allowed visitors for a fortnight, and his calls are reduced to once a week. All other privileges he’d had are taken away again, and he’s relegated to the very bottom of the pecking order.

It’s still worth it.

When he’s finally allowed visitors again, Tom is surprised to learn that his next meeting isn’t with you or his lawyer. Things only make sense when he shuffles into the meeting room and sees his right-hand man settled in the corner, and if Tom had found the room drab before, it appears even more depressing with the addition of the blond man sitting in it. Harrison sucks the life from the room, any hints of happiness at being reunited with his friend overshadowed by the pinched expression on his face.

The guards don’t let Tom take off his cuffs. He has to sidle into the chair, falling into the heavy silence as he places his hands on the table. Metal links click, and Harrison just stares. He stares, and stares, and stares, his blue eyes almost black.

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

Harrison’s jaw twitches. He brings his hands to rest on the top of the table, flexing them as he takes a moment to find the right words. “Tom,” he says, speaking very slowly. “You are a twat.”

He blinks. “Wow,” Tom mutters, chuckling slightly. “Okay. Good to see you too, mate.”

“Do you…” Harrison breaks off, groaning. His forehead develops angry ripples. “Do you understand how detrimental this has been to your case?”

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

“You’ve been pushed to the bottom of the pile,” Harrison says, voice controlled but simmering with unspoken anger. “We were about to get your appeal passed for early release.” He sits back, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. “There’s been a penalty applied due to your stint in solitary. Your case won’t be assessed until it’s lifted.”

Tom feels his stomach drop. “Shit,” he mutters. “That’s not ideal.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Harrison sits forward, leaning on his hands. “You are a bloody idiot. Stop acting like a child… Why… Why did you even attack him? You must have known this would happen. Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t like the patronisation in his tone. Tom’s already beat himself up enough about this in solitary. He doesn’t need Harrison questioning his judgements, doesn’t appreciate his friend breathing down his neck so obviously.

“He deserved it,” Tom says firmly. “I would do it again.”

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

“I think you’ll find that I can, Harrison.” There’s a stupid smirk on his lips now. Tom’s missed being a little shit to his friends. He knows it’s not the time, but he’s vibrating. The callous concoction of shame, anger and isolation make him volatile and abrasive. “I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually.”

The expression that mars Harrison’s face looks very out of place against his demeanour. The man is in a long black trench coat with a tight grey turtleneck layered beneath it. He has a few pendants hanging from his neck, the gold metal bringing out the warm tones in his curls, mussed in a way that screams of old charm and perfect romance. Harrison’s illusion of control falters only under the pressure of the anger that manifests itself so clearly on his face.

“Tom.” Harrison bangs his fist on the table. The ring wrapped around his pinky clangs against the wood. “You can’t keep this up. If you do, the case gets pushed further, and that is unacceptable.”

Tom scowls. “Well, Haz, last time I checked, I was the one who has to deal with the consequences of my actions. Not you.” He can’t stand the expression of condescension hanging over Harrison’s face. “If I want to throw a few punches, I bloody well will. You have no idea what it’s like in here. No idea at all.”

Harrison’s angered expression fades a little, but only for a moment. When Tom hardens the curve of his eyebrow, Harrison devolves into irritation again, almost snarling as he narrows his eyes. “Your actions affect everyone in your life,” he snaps. “Stop pretending you’re the only one paying for the things that you’ve done.”

“I’m the one with the cuffs, Harrison. I’d say I’m paying considerably more than anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah? Tell that to the men who had their property searched and their possessions seized. Tell that to your family, who continue to be pulled in for questioning. Tell that to Y/N, who—” he breaks off awfully quickly, cheeks flushing slightly. “Nevermind.”

Tom’s blood goes cold. “Y/N?” he repeats sharply. “What about Y/N?”

“Nothing.”

He sits up straighter. “What about Y/N, Harrison?”

“Nothing.”

Tom is angry now. “Tell me right now or god help me, I will find a way to kill you.”

Harrison rolls his eyes, then covers the movement with a sigh. “I can’t. It isn’t my place.” He seems regretful as he jumps in to add, “she’s fine. She just needs you. We all do.”

The guilt returns. It falls over Tom like a wet blanket, extinguishing his frustration and leaving him cold. “Does she… Does she hate me?” He’s looking down at his cuffs.

“What— no. No, Tom.” Harrison looks guilty for the first time, but at least he isn’t confirming Tom’s deepest insecurities. “Nothing like that at all. Just… Listen to me, alright? You need to behave. I know it’s hard in here, I know that, and I understand it must be frustrating. You just… You can’t let that rule you, Tom. You have to look at the bigger picture. You need to come home, and the sooner the better.”

It’s easier said than done, but he knows Harrison is earnest with it.

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

Harrison nods. “Thanks, mate,” he mutters. “We all miss you, myself included.” He glances up at him, eyes finally back to the cool blue tones Tom grew up beside. “It isn’t the same without you around.”

Tom manages a tight smile. “I miss you too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS since Tom was taken away, and you are miserable.

Every day has been the same. You wake up, nauseous and alone, always on Tom’s side of the bed despite forcing yourself to fall asleep on your own. The mornings are a blur of paperwork and phone calls that follow you into the afternoon. You work around the clock, Harrison, Harry and Sam at your side as you go over Tom’s case, again and again, only stopping when night falls, and one of you throws in the towel.

You had been so close to springing him until he’d gone and got himself demoted to solitary, and there’s not a morning that you don’t think about that. You’d submitted the appeal, stacked full of so much evidence that there was no way the judge would deny him freedom, only for Tom to get into a fistfight the day before the hearing. Just like that, the floor had vanished from beneath your feet.

You’d taken it badly, the others too. Losing Tom to the judge’s gavel had been hard enough, but for his escape to be taken away by his own actions hurt a thousand times worse. You know it’s worse for him, being alone in a cell, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness seeping into your mouth every time you think about the lost chance. Harry and Sam had been incensed, their anger fuelled by the void of a missing brother, and you know Harrison’s frustration comes from similar veins.

Even now that Tom’s served his time in solitary, the frustration lingers on, manifesting itself in the way none of you could decide who should go and visit him first. Under normal conditions, you would’ve been there in a heartbeat, but… Things have been complicated, even without recent events, more so than they’d been when you’d visited two months ago. When Harrison had bitten the bullet and volunteered himself, all of you had been more than happy to let him go.

He’d left this morning, and the house has been quiet ever since.

You’re sitting up in one of the spare rooms as you wait for Harrison to return, your back aching and your mind spinning. You twirl the rings on your fingers as you think, taking turns alternating between your engagement ring and the silver signet rings you’d taken from Tom’s dresser. Keeping him close makes everything easier. You’d take any reminder of him you could get, be that his rings, his shirts, his cologne, or…

The baby.

You shift a hand down to sit on the swell of your belly. Tears prick your eyes as you let them close, a frustrated sigh tumbling past your lips.

You’re four months pregnant, and that throws a spanner in the works.

Sure, you would’ve tried equally as hard to get Tom released under normal conditions, but the biological countdown that has now been sprinkled into the mix has only given everything an air of desperation. Even if it isn’t you vocalising what everyone else is thinking, the fervour to get Tom out before it’s too late is there. You can see it in the way Harrison never lets you go anywhere unaccompanied, and Harry and Sam have been working nonstop to get their brother’s freedom. Everyone around you is aware of how vital Tom’s release is, even when the man himself remains oblivious.

Exhaling gently, you shift around on the cosy armchair. The nursery smells of fading paint, and as you move around, you glance at the messy borders of the walls. The sex of your baby is still a mystery to you, but a few days ago, the twins had freshened up the room with a shade of light green whilst you and Harrison were in court. Neither of them is particularly artistically inclined, but they’d done a pretty decent job, all things considered.

Tom’s family have all been good to you—very kind. You haven’t felt alone, even with half your heart locked away in the outskirts of London. It just hasn’t been the idyllic pregnancy you’d dreamt about with your fiancé.

Guilt falls across you as you look down at the rising swell of your belly.

It’s been hard trying to decide whether or not to tell Tom what you’d tried to come clean about three months ago, down by the Thames. You’d wanted to tell him when you’d gone to visit him, but you couldn’t find the heart to come clean and admit that he’s missing out on the one thing he’s waited for his entire life. Telling him would hurt him immensely, and he’s already hurting being away from you. You don’t want to tell him until he can be part of it, and with that uncertainty present, you’ve kept your lips sealed.

Visiting him today in place of Harrison is all you really wanted to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’re vulnerable and explosive, and you want to come clean to Tom when the situation is better. There would be nothing worse than storming into that dingy meeting room, flaunting your obvious pregnancy but being too distracted by your anger at your fiancé to explain everything else. You won’t hurt him like that by taunting him with the one thing he wants but can’t have. You refuse to.

All you can do is hope that he forgives you for holding the information back, pray that he understands your motivations, and, above all, hold onto the hope that he’s there when your child comes into the world.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Blinking yourself from your reverie, you look up through the open door.

“In here, Sam.”

A moment later, Tom’s younger brother appears in the doorway. The man looks as exhausted as you feel, deep shadows hanging beneath his hazel eyes. When he sees you, his mouth pulls into a small smile and he lifts his hand in greeting, and you can tell that he’s trying. You try to match him by sitting up a little straighter and smiling back.

“Hey,” he says. “I was just… bored, I guess. Thought I’d come and check on you.” Doubt briefly flickers across his face. “Is that okay? Are you busy?”

“I’m bored too,” you admit. You stand from the armchair and groan as you stretch your arms, your stiff back aching. “Do you want to do something?”

Sam grins. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “Can we try the mural?”

Wincing, you manage a smile. “Okay… But if it looks terrible, I will paint over it.”

“As if. I’m the artistic one here, Y/N. Just be glad Harry’s still away.”

“Did someone mention me?” Harry’s voice rings through the air, startling you. With a hand clutching your heart, you look to your side in time to see Sam’s twin taking his place at your side. Where Sam is in a shirt and tie, Harry is clad in a pair of deep denim dungarees. He offers you a rusty smile. “We’re just filling in these lines, yeah?”

Sam’s the one to nod. He gestures at the wall and you notice the faint outlines, scratched in pencil. “Be precise,” he informs, “it took me bloody ages sketching it.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shooting you a silent smirk. “Yes, sir,” he mutters. “Anything you want, sir.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry pulls a face. “Well,” he says, looking at you pointedly, “I hope you’re keeping a record of how many times Sam is swearing around the baby, Y/N.”

Brows furrowing, you pick up a paintbrush. “Why would I be doing that?”

The ginger grins. “Just betters my case for being the better uncle,” he says.

“Oh, what? Don’t you mean the boring uncle?” Sam chides, bristling beside you.

Harry laughs. “I will be the favourite uncle. I don’t care what you say, Sammy. Both of us know it.”

Rolling your eyes at the argument you’ve heard a thousand times before, you give them both a nudge. “Shh,” you plead. “Paint, don’t fight.”

Sam shoots you a soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a smile lingering on your lips, you watch as Harry puts on one of his playlists, then relax as the three of you get to work. None of you say anything, but the air is full enough—tickled to life with Sam’s quiet whistling and the sound of paintbrushes thick against the wall. You concentrate on the intricate details of the mural, like the outlines of the clouds and the spirals of the grass, and marvel at how wonderful it is to be so content in silence. It’s indicative of how tight your bond has grown, you think.

No longer despising solitude, you’ve found a comfortable middle ground around the men. You and Tom’s inner circle have learned to work together well, stringing together complex case files as you’ve organised accounts. Nothing you’ve been doing recently is legal, but you would’ve left a long time ago if you genuinely cared about the law. You can stomach a few fixed accounts if it means Tom gets to walk free—you can stomach a whole lot more than that, actually, for Tom. You’d set the whole world on fire just to see him smile.

Like the splotchy mural covering the walls, your team has got the job done. Your case for the court is watertight, if a little messy, but you know it’ll be enough to spring Tom. It has to be. You need him, and your child needs him. Everyone in the house needs him.

“Guys? Where are you?” Harrison’s voice joins the mix just as you’re stretching up to flick a few rays of gold into the sun. Harry is at your feet, crouching on the balls of his feet as he tries to paint a few red flowers to the sprigs of grass.

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

A few moments later, Harrison joins you. You fail to meet his eyes as the focused man sweeps into the room, billowing coat swirling around his feet. His expression is terse as he jerks off his jacket and grabs a paintbrush, dipping the tip in a bit of sky blue paint before standing at the end. You don’t rush him. He’s vibrating with something, his face flushed and his eyes dark, so you give him space.

A few minutes pass, illustrated by Harry’s playlist and the colours of the rainbow. Just when you’re beginning to worry, Harrison speaks.

“Tom is an idiot,” he states, drawing a laugh from one of the twins.

You bite your lip. “Did you explain?” you ask.

Harrison nods. He glances at you, and you note the fleck of purple paint pressed into the pale arc of his cheek. “He said he wouldn’t do it again,” he tells you. “He was angry, though. I think he’s having a bad time.”

Harry hums. “It’s hard in there,” he mumbles. “Was he still himself?”

The blond nods. “Yeah,” he says. “As snarky as ever.”

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

“Good news, though,” Harrison adds. “I went to the courthouse on my way back.”

“Oh?” You look away from your cloud, your heart skipping a beat. “And?”

“And,” Harrison continues, a semblance of a smile twitching across his lips, “I submitted the appeal again. They said they’d probably process it next week. So, if things go according to plan this time, he might be out by next Friday.”

You almost drop your paintbrush. Eyes widening, you turn to face him properly. “Wait, really?”

Harrison’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He puts his paintbrush down, tugging yours from your fingers as if he can tell you’re close to dropping it. “He’s almost out, Y/N.”

Relief spills across you, uncontrollable and overwhelming. Closing your eyes before those easy tears can fall down your cheeks, you step closer and push your way into Harrison’s embrace. He’s ready and waiting for the action, eager to comfort his friend.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Harrison’s chest is warm, and though his hugs aren’t as good as Tom’s, you’ve come to rely on them. You’ve come to rely on all of them. “That’s amazing news.”

“Mhmm.” He squeezes you. “This nightmare is almost over.”

“Thanks, man,” Harry speaks up. You pull away from Harrison’s hold when you hear the quivering tones in his voice, quickly glancing to the man to find him glassy-eyed and flushed. Biting your lip, you extend a hand towards him.

A group hug unfolds, as it’s had the tendency to do since Tom was taken away. The first time had been stoic and cool, with frozen elbows and embarrassed shuffling, but slowly, each one of them has loosened. They’re tough men, burdened and hard, but love ties them to you, and at your request, you know they’d do anything for you. You also know that they all enjoy the physical comfort more than they’d ever let on.

It’s been hard without Tom, and you’d do anything to have him back, but if there’s anything his absence has taught you, it’s that his brothers have become your brothers as his best friend has become your own, and you’ve never really been alone.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s release day comes quickly, hidden behind the retrial and the quick-paced days in court. It’s busy at the trial, and spaces are limited, so Harry and Sam attend in place of you and Harrison. You get them to take in a few letters for Tom and pass on your condolences for your absence, but you don’t allow yourself to get too hung up on it. When Tom’s release is announced, the weight that rolls from your shoulders is immediate.

As you wait outside the prison, you try to find solace in the rays of the mid-afternoon sun. It’s quiet in the car park, allowing you to ruminate in peace, and though you’re comfortable resting against the bonnet of Tom’s car, your thoughts are far from restful.

Anxiety weighs heavily in your chest, mixing with your excitement and creating a volatile concoction. You find yourself pacing, biting back your nerves as you try to reason with yourself. Draped around your shoulders is a long coat that obscures your bump, chosen as you’ve decided you don’t want to overwhelm Tom with too many things at once. You hope it does the job. The coat twitches in the wind as you walk, noisy and obnoxious.

Things around you are still until there’s a sudden, loud buzzing noise from the prison compound. You jerk your head around to see two men leaving the main building, small in the distance but gradually growing larger. They’re still enclosed in the fenced courtyard, but they’re on their way to the exit, and every rational thought you have flies from your mind as you see him. Tom. Your Tom.

He’s in the clothes he’d been arrested in—red shirt, black slacks, shiny shoes. Looped around his hands is his Rolex and his rings. Tom seems almost identical to how he’d been on that cursed day, just his head is buzzed and he looks a little smaller. He’s carrying himself with confidence, though, and when he looks fervently around the car park and spots you, his entire face swells with happiness. The sight of that large, lovely smile hanging from his lips brings immediate warmth to your eyes.

Every breath is easier now you have him in your sights. Overwhelming love gluts your insides, warm and emotive, choking you up. It takes everything in you to stay still as you wait for Tom to finish talking with his guard, a tall man you recognise from all of his stories, Luther. Tom’s smirking in a way that’s obviously infuriating, and the guard doesn’t hesitate to give him a light punch as your boyfriend saunters out of prison, leaving the compound with a swagger to his stride and a smile the size of Saturn.

The sight of Tom jogging towards you breaks you from your reverie, and you push yourself away from the car to meet him somewhere in the middle. Nothing matters until you’re colliding with his front, finding warmth in his arms, feeling his entire body shake as his tears fall into your hair. Nothing matters unless it’s him.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. Your grip on the back of Tom’s shirt is hard, a violent sprawling across your knuckles, but you won’t let go. You’re giddy with love. “Fuck, Tom, I missed you so, so much.”

You pull away from his chest and look into his eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you note the fresh tears on his face. You use your thumbs to brush beneath his cheeks, flicking away the tears as you clean up his handsomeness.

“I missed you so much more,” he promises. Tom brings a hand to rest on the back of your head, breath hitching as he meets your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, and it’s so intense you end up pressed against the side of the car. Tom moans with relief as he strokes his fingers over the side of your face, delicately reacquainting his lips with yours as they meet again and again. You keep your hands gliding over his back, his arms, his shoulders, letting your tongues come together as tears flow down your cheeks. The kiss is everything and nothing, familiar and new. The kiss says I missed you. It says I thought about you every day. It says I would wait a thousand dawns if it meant I got to wake up beside you again, but thank fucking god you’re here right now because I missed you more than I ever thought was possible.

“Baby,” Tom murmurs. He pulls away but keeps your foreheads pressed together, the cool tip of his nose brushing yours. “You’re so perfect. I missed you so much that it hurt me.”

He tries to move closer, but you become aware of the pressure to your belly, so bring a gentle hand to push his shoulder away. Hurt immediately floods to his eyes, his expression twitching as Tom takes a few steps back.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. “I need to tell you something.”

Tom’s jaw twitches. “What is it?” he whispers.

“A good thing,” you clarify. You reach up to wipe the residue of your tears away, then bring your hands down to the tie of your jacket. Biting your lip, you take a steadying breath. “I hope you aren’t angry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” you preface, “but I did it for you.”

Tom nods intensely. “Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s fine. I’m… I’m here, okay? For anything. It’s me and you. Just… me and you forever.”

A smile flickers across your face. “Me and you, and…” You gently open the front of your coat, then reach out for Tom’s hands. Guiding them slowly, you bring the warmth of his palms to rest on the rise of your bump.

“Wait…” Tom shifts his hands around your belly before staring up at you, slack-jawed. He doesn’t try to hide the obvious tears in his eyes. “You’re…?”

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

“Oh god.” Tom sniffles. “What?” He immediately drops to his knees in front of you, his fancy dress trousers getting dirty in the dust. “How— how far along?”

“Almost five months,” you whisper. “I found out right before you got back from Liverpool. I was going to tell you when we went on that date, but…”

“But I fucked up.” Tom sounds wrecked, his aching eyes fixed on the curve of your belly. “I fucked everything up. I… I left you alone for this entire time, and you had to do this all without me.” He rests his forehead against your bump, very, very gently, and you see him close his eyes. “I am a terrible partner.”

Rolling your fingers over the scruff of his hair, you guide him up to look at you. It’s second nature as you roll a thumb over his cheekbone, trying to instil the action with love and reassurance.

“I’m not angry,” you tell him. “You didn’t know, and you didn’t get arrested on purpose. If anything, you should be angry at me for keeping this a secret.” Your teeth catch your lower lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I thought telling you would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

Tom shakes his head. “No, no. Don’t apologise.” He rests a hand on your leg, the other still on the curve of your front. “I’m sorry.” He drops his voice and looks at the bump. “And I’m sorry to you too, little one.” He nudges his mouth forward and deposits a soft kiss to your stomach. “I love you too.”

Digging one of your hands into your coat pocket, you pull out a photo. “Here,” you urge, handing it to your boyfriend. Tom takes it after a moment, his eyes slow to move away from your front.

He releases a noise somewhere between an exclamation and a choke, nimble fingers gripping the image from your ultrasound. His cheeks flush a brilliant rose.

“When was this?” he whispers.

“At three months,” you reply. You continue to run your hand over the top of his head, trying to soothe him as he absorbs so much information at once. “I went with my mum and Haz.”

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

Tom hums. He looks between the photo and your bump, then nudges forward to kiss the rise again. His lips are so warm you can feel them through the material of your dress. “Have they been looking after you well enough?”

A light laugh slips past your lips. “Yeah,” you promise. “They helped so much, Tom. It was hard at first… Really hard. Especially when we thought you’d be in there for five years, but… Things worked out.” You have to pause to gather your thoughts. “We converted one of the rooms into a nursery. There’s still stuff left to do, and we can do that together, of course, but… They were all really helpful.”

“Good.” Tom looks up at you, still kneeling, and your hand slips down to cup his face. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I wish I could’ve been here for all of this.”

Shrugging gently, you squeeze his face. “You can be here for the rest of it,” you promise. “And, I guess… If we have another one, you’ll be there for all of that, right?”

“Of course, darling.” You smile as Tom tilts his lips to knock against the side of your palm.

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Chuckling softly, you nod. “Yes,” you promise. “I love you, and I’m so happy this has happened for us, even if the timing was difficult.” Feeling yourself well up, you exhale slowly. “We’re going to be parents, Tom. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s brilliant.” Tom’s eyes sparkle. “I’m going to be a father.” He blinks. “What the fuck.”

Laughing, you move your hands to the crown of his head. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to get used to that.”

“I’ll get there,” he states. Tom returns his attention to the bump. “Hey, little one,” he coos, voice all silk and amber tones, “it’s going to be the biggest honour of my life being your dad.”

Tom spends a while at your feet, speaking softly to you and your bump, and you keep your hand resting on the back of his head. He’s weary when he finally climbs to his feet but regains some of that spark when you step forward to kiss him. You don’t mean to make it as heated as you do, but it hasn’t only been your heart that’s missed Tom. You’ve craved him, constantly, during every single lonely night, and now that he’s here, you’re willing to take everything you can get.

“I love you,” you say, hushed against his mouth.

Tom’s teeth brush over your lower lip, and you moan when he tugs. There’s a fervour to it, hot lust burning through sensitive emotions. He releases your lip and pulls back to stare at you, his eyes rippling darker.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. He brings his hands to your waist, pulling you closer. “I love everything about you.”

Your mouths come back together, and it’s messier than before, your lips wettening as your kisses become wilder. Tongues dance and teeth clash as your body temperature starts to rise. Now you’ve moved through the emotional reunion, you’re left with an underlying pulse—a heat throbbing persistently between your legs. The fire builds as you hear Tom’s grunts and feel the desperation in his hands when they grab at your sides and jerk you closer, his mouth devouring yours until your lips are puffy and tender. You’re greedy, chasing more, desiring everything you’ve missed out on in the months you’ve been apart from your lover.

“Darling,” Tom murmurs, breaking the kiss to whisper hotly against your lips, “I missed you, but if you keep this up, we’re not going to get home.”

Desire takes hold of you. “Who said I wanted to go home?” You push in closer, shifting slightly until you’re able to feel the hardness of his crotch pressing up against your thigh. The familiarity of it all makes you inhale sharply. You drop your tone, trying to seem coy as you speak, “I don’t think you understand how badly I needed you whilst you were away, Tom. I missed you.”

The tips of his teeth glint as he arches his brows. “Well…” Tom mumbles. “I owe you about four months of lost opportunities.” He swallows, briefly breaking from the lust-filled headspace to look guilty. You smooth it away by reaching down to squeeze at his hands. “If my radiantly stunning fiancé decides she wants me to start repenting for that now, then who am I to stop her?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the car. “You’re a suck-up,” you taunt. You plant a light kiss to his lips. “C’mon,” you urge. “The car.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “The backseat?” he teases. “Shit, angel. You must be desperate.”

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

Tom smirks deviously. “It’s okay,” he soothes. He darts forward to open the car door for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you step forward. “I’m just as desperate as you, baby.”

“I hate you,” you murmur. Tom follows you into the car, shutting the door behind you both. You wait for him to sit before straddling his lap, your legs stretching until you have a shin planted on either side of his thighs. The position is comfortable, with enough space between your bump and his chest for you to breath, and you whimper as Tom bends nearer to ghost his lips over yours.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

You want to tease him, but you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re alright with too much adoration to even think about pressing it down.

“I really don’t,” you agree.

Tom makes a soft noise of vindication, the tip of his nose brushing yours for just a moment until he’s bearing down and bringing your lips together. You sigh, reaching up and urging him closer. His lips are lovely, and you enjoy kissing them for a while, but then you find yourself distracted by the open expanse of his neck. With his hair buzzed, you’re keenly aware of his throat, pale and sensitive, and if there’s one thing you remember about your boyfriend, it’s his affinity for lovebites.

You bring your lips to the side of his neck, nuzzling your mouth against the long, pale stretch of his throat. Smirking against his skin, you start to suckle deep hickeys against the side of his neck, revelling in the throaty gasps Tom deposits into the air in response.

“Fuck, darling,” Tom whines. He has a hand on your back, urging you closer. When you graze the tips of your teeth against his skin, he whimpers. “Shit. More.”

“More?” you tease. “Forgotten all your manners, Tom?”

He growls. The hand on your back shifts to the back of your head, and he jerks you ever closer. He’s still mindful, especially of the bump laying between you, but he knows just as well as you that you aren’t a piece of porcelain; you like being tugged around. You’ve missed it.

“Give me what I want, and maybe I’ll return the favour.” He says it like you’re oblivious to the desperation in his words. You decide to oblige him.

“Okay,” you murmur. You look up to meet his gaze, his honey-brown eyes full of appreciation. For a moment, it knocks you off balance. It’s so strange readjusting to having Tom back—almost overwhelming to be able to touch someone who had existed only in your memories for so many weeks. You drop your head and give him what he wants.

Tom’s skin tastes clean, and it smells distantly of pinecones. He groans, fisting at your hair and holding you close as you kiss and suck along his skin, drawing deep hues to the surface of his neck. He shifts in his seat, basking in the pain and whining every time you soothe a fresh mark with the warmth of your tongue. You keep your hand resting on his hair, the cropped length of his buzz prickly and coarse beneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Oh god yeah,” he murmurs, voice mingling with the wet noises coming from your lips. “Your mouth is so fucking good, baby. I missed it.” Grunting, he brings a hand to your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips hard. “I thought about you all the time in there.”

Tom releases his hold on your hair and begins to stroke his hands over your back. As you continue to mark his neck, he starts to tease you, gradually dropping the heat of his palms lower and lower. You can’t stop yourself from bucking down into his hold, moaning against his neck as he grabs handfuls of your ass.

“Tom,” you break off to whimper, panting softly. You feel dizzy on the taste of his skin. “You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “How am I being mean?” Tom squeezes the curves of your figure, his slender fingers warm against your skin. You’re in a dress, the material thin, and he doesn’t hesitate to curve his hands beneath the hem and bring them to rest over your panties. “You’re the one who wanted to come in here and get your hands all over me… I’m doing what you asked.” He breaks off, chuckling darkly. “That’s not how things usually work, though, is it?”

The air between you shifts.

You pull away from Tom’s neck, your mouth inflamed and throbbing. You have to dig your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your whimper when Tom brings a hand to the front of your legs, gently brushing two of his long fingers over the front of your panties. He’s teasing with it, eyes alight with deviousness, jaw set in a determined line.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Maybe I want to be in charge this time.”

Tom laughs gently. “Oh, yeah?” He rubs your cunt a little faster, causing you to suck in a sharp breath as you feel the delicate pressure on your clit. The contact makes your passage clench, growing wet enough to dampen the front of your panties. “So you don’t like this, hmm? You don’t want me to follow through on everything I have planned for you?”

“What have you got planned?”

He tuts. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you, angel. That’d be too easy. Either you want me to be in charge, or you decide to call the shots.” Tom smirks as he feels you buck down against his hand. Maybe if the circumstances were different, you’d find the strength to push back, but you don’t. It’s been so long, and your cunt is weeping already just from the husky tones in his voice.

“You’re in charge,” you whisper. The vindicated smirk he flashes in response is enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Damn right, baby.” Tom moves his hands away, pressing them to your waist instead. “Can you lay down for me, please?”

You shuffle across the car seat as instructed, Tom shifting until he’s kneeling in the footwell of the backseats. It’s a good thing the car is obscenely huge, otherwise, the already-cramped fit would be unworkable.

Draping your legs over Tom’s shoulders, he pushes the hem of your dress up, bunching it just above your bump. The hungry fire in his eyes fades slightly.

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

“It’s fine,” you soothe. “Are you okay down there?”

Tom nods. The scruff of his buzzed head scratches against your inner thighs. “I’m bloody perfect,” he responds. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do.”

The tip of his nose nuzzles against your covered clit. “Perfect,” Tom purrs, his breath hot against your panties. “I think it’s time I remind you who owns this fucking pussy… As hot as it was when you were trying to tell me what to do, it’s not on.” He brings his mouth away from your core, and you whimper as his tongue laps gently across your thigh, the muscle deliciously slippery. “I’m the one calling the shots.”

You’re throbbing, every inch of you aching for his touch. The burn is visceral—pulsing, wet. “Yes, sir,” you return. Tom’s eyes snap to yours. “Do whatever you want.”

“Say please.”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you add, “please.”

“Good, baby. You sound so pretty begging for me.” Tom easily pulls your panties down your legs, returning to push your thighs further apart. He brings both of his thumbs to your sensitive lips, humming when you whimper. Using the pads of his fingers, he gently parts your centre, groaning softly at the sight. “Say it,” he murmurs, entranced by the paradise between your legs. “Tell how badly you want me.”

He’s incredibly infuriating, but you play right into his hand. “Please, Tom,” you whine. “Please touch me.”

He hums. “Of course, lovie,” he murmurs. He glances up at you. “All you had to do was ask.”

The first touch of his tongue against your slit makes your eyes roll back. A breathless whine slips past your lips as his mouth envelops your clit, the strong tip of his tongue nuzzling over your sensitive skin in a way you’ve only dreamed of. You’ve been able to get off in his absence, but nothing can simulate the sizzling heat of his mouth and his tongue, nor the scratching of his short hair against your fleshy inner thighs.

The way he unravels you is obscene, toned with the sounds of spit and lazy lips, the sensations of desperation. Tom devours you, using his elbows to push your thighs apart as he buries his face as close to your centre as possible. You can barely see him over the rise of your belly, but you can certainly feel him. When you start to grind down against his face, things only escalate, your eyes fluttering shut as your spine arches in response to his feverish movements.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, voice thick as it vibrates across you. “Missed this… Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart.”

Your high rolls over you suddenly and without warning, manifesting itself in a silent cry as your body goes rigid. You hear Tom hum in surprise, then feel his hands lock around your thighs, holding back your legs as they shake in the face of absolute pleasure.

“Sorry,” you pant, recovering gradually, “I didn’t know that was going to happen then.”

Tom runs his tongue over your slit, still sensitive and throbbing. “‘S okay, lovie,” he replies, voice warm. He nuzzles in closer and brings two slender fingers to push against your entrance. Your hole is hot and pulsing, pooled with your arousal. You hear it pucker as he gently presses against your cunt, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. “I’m not done making it up to you, though. Is that okay?”

Exhaling, you nod quickly. “Fuck yeah,” you say, struggling to think. “Oh.”

He slips two fingers into you, your eager walls parting and welcoming him in. Tom removes his mouth from your heat and replaces his tongue with the pad of a thumb, and when you release a loud noise of strangled enjoyment, he begins to crook his fingers into you. He strokes his digits against your walls with poise and elegance, nudging up against your g-spot and stroking, again and again, chasing the noises you release.

“So pretty,” he coos. “My pretty baby. Making all those beautiful noises.” Tom smiles almost proudly. His chin is wet with your arousal. “I love your cunt… Look at how well it's taking me.” To prove his point, he feeds a third finger alongside the others. “So greedy for me, eh? Greedy little pussy. So hot. So wet. God…”

Tom drops his head again, disappearing from your sight of vision. You moan, body jerking as you feel his tongue move around his fingers, catching the arousal that seeps from your pussy as he works you open. He releases an obscene moan before dragging his mouth to your clit, stimulating you with his hands and tongue in tandem.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper. You feel hot in the best way, your skin becoming sweaty as you writhe over the leather seat. “Feels so good, Tommy.” It feels like heaven—especially when he bends his fingers and the tips of them stroke up against your sensitive spot. “‘M gonna cum again.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

Tom chuckles. “I’m so good at this,” he murmurs. “Go on, angel. Don’t hold back on my account… You’re so pretty when you cum.”

The tide breaks, and your climax rolls across you, legs trembling as Tom holds you in place. You writhe as you bask in the heat, your knuckles losing blood as you clench your hands into hard fists. The press of your nails against the soft flesh of your palms hurts, but you don’t care. It feels far too good to think about anything beyond Tom.

You ride it out, and Tom eventually draws his face away from your clit. He kisses along your inner thighs as you gasp for air, only removing his fingers when you start to whimper. As good as the climaxes have felt, panting for breath on the backseat, it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough by far.

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

Tom chuckles as he appears from between your legs. He gives your thighs a little tap before he closes your legs, wriggling out of the footwell as you sit up. Easily, like you’ve done a thousand times before, you swing a leg over Tom’s lap, straddling him when he sits with his back against the car seat.

“Are you okay up there?” he checks, bringing his clean hand to rest on the curve of your stomach. When you nod, his brown eyes darken. “Perfect…” he hums. “Clean off my fingers, will you?”

You nod, opening your mouth expectantly and moaning as Tom slips three of his fingers between your lips. Fighting your smirk, you maintain eye contact with him, your pride swelling as you see his cheeks darken. He gently fucks his fingers into your mouth, making you moan at the movements and the taste of your heat as it spreads across your tongue. He’s messy with it, and you feel your lips and chin grow heavy from spittle.

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

Tom goes to move his fingers from your mouth, only for a detail to make you pause. Eyes straining, you reach up to catch his wrist, holding his hand in place just as his fingers pull away from your lips.

“What’s this?” you query, narrowing your eyes. You drag Tom’s left hand nearer your face, gasping softly as you take note of a new tattoo resting at the bottom of his ring finger.

“Oh.” Tom shifts around slightly, biting at his lower lip. “I got your initials tattooed… When we get married, the ring will cover them, but I wanted you with me—I want you with me—all the time, even without a bit of metal.” He hesitates. “Is that okay?”

You press a delicate kiss across the letters. “Yes,” you say. You feel shy as you meet the eyes of the man who loves you so immensely. “That’s really, really sweet, Tom.” You bite your lip as you look up at him. “Gone soft on me, baby?”

“‘M always soft on you,” he says gruffly, guiding a hand to your face. He brings you closer, encouraging you to lean higher on your knees. “Love of my life, angel. You know that… My wife.”

You shift on his lap, smiling bashfully. “I’m not your wife yet.”

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

Both of you come together, no words needing to be exchanged for you to know what to do. Tom loses his clothes as you sit up a little straighter, one of your hands curling around the headrest of a seat as Tom angles himself slightly. With the rise of your bump between you, you aren’t able to be flushed together like times before, but the man beneath you is quick to readjust so he’s laying further back, giving you plenty of room to move in a way that’s comfortable. He kisses over your knuckles as you run his hard cock through your slit, his interested eyes fixed firmly on the sight of his length as you finally begin to move down.

The moment the head of his cock pushes into you feels indescribable. The ache of the stretch falls away as relief pours over you, the closeness satisfying far more than just your arousal.

“Gentle, gentle,” Tom murmurs, hand resting on your belly. “Be careful.”

You chuckle, beginning to move but only slowly. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “it won’t hurt them.” Your eyes roll back slightly as you bring your hand down to rest on Tom’s shoulder, moaning quietly. “You can move too… Please, move.”

“Okay, darling.” Tom gently starts to move his hips. He groans as he slumps back against the seat, beautiful face coloured light pink. You’d missed the expressions he makes, how emotive the slants of his features can be. His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses as you ride him, your cunt so wet the movements are almost effortless. “That feels… so good.” His voice is hollow, gutless. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about you. You, and your hot cunt.” He moans again, unable to sit around the words. Tom ruts into you a little harder, guiding you to move faster with the hand on your hip. “Taking me so well, darling. So fucking well. I’m not going to last at all.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “I won’t either.”

Tom manages a lazy smirk. He opens his eyes as he brings a hand to your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with his thumb. You jerk a little at the stimulation but start to ease into it, basking in the pleasure from the bud and Tom’s cock. He’s buried deep within you, pressing your walls apart, the curved tip of his head brushing deeper than you’ve felt in months.

“So tight,” he murmurs. Tom leans back, clearly enjoying the sight of you riding him. “My darling. You look so beautiful like this… I swear your tits are bigger, too.” The hand on your belly gently caresses the bump, Tom’s tongue briefly wandering out to wet his lower lip. “Look at how beautiful you are… I can’t wait to knock you up again.”

Stifling a moan, it takes everything in you to focus on your movements. “You feel so good, Tom,” you whimper, unable to hold back the praise he loves to hear. “I missed this so much.”

“I know, baby. I missed this too… Come on, now.” His voice hardens slightly. “I’m about to cum, but I don’t want to unless you’re right here beside me. So… will you be a good girl and finish with me? Please?��

Heat flushes through your system as you bounce your head quickly. Your eyes close, breath hitching as you feel your climax rise. It starts in the pit of your stomach, a coil pulling tighter and tighter until it bends and snaps, bursting wide and spilling pleasure across your body in warm waves of enjoyment. You cry out as you fall apart, holding Tom’s shoulder tightly as his hand clamps around your waist. You feel him mirror you, hear his loud groan as his cock pulses inside you, your movements unceasing as you ride it out together.

It ends, but you stay joined. Tom sits up, the distance put between you by your belly requiring him to stretch closer and seize your lips in a smouldering kiss. His hand returns to your cheek, yours to his, and the look in his eyes is dizzying.

“I love you so much,” he speaks, words soft like a promise. “Everything I do from here on out is for you, and…” He glances back at your stomach. “And our child.” Words thickening, you see Tom’s eyes well with tears again. He chuckles, cheeks flushing red. “Sorry,” he adds. “I get a bit choked up thinking about it.”

You stroke your fingers over the back of his hair, spiky strands smooth against your hand. “Don’t apologise for expressing your emotions, baby,” you whisper. “It’s been a very long day.”

Tom nods. “Love you,” he murmurs again. He nuzzles his head into the palm of your hand, his eyes closing.

“I love you too,” you say, words truer than they’ve ever been before. You bend down to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to go home now?”

He hums. “Y/N,” he whispers. Tom blinks up at you, eyes soft. He catches the palm of your hand with a few kisses as he sits up a little straighter. “I’m already home.”

Teeth grazing your lower lip, you hold back your smile as you marvel at how clichéd he’s become. You bend down and kiss him very gently. “Sap,” you murmur. “Love you, though.”

Tom pulls a face. He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice—only love. “Love you too,” he says. “Yes, though,” he adds, “I would love to go home.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

that’s probably a wrap on mob!tom ! i don’t have any more fic ideas for him :( that being said, this was a lot of fun to write, and i really, really hope you liked it :D ik the theme isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you read it all, i love you very very much

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland smut #y/n #self insert #smut #mob!tomfic

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lyraoftheevergreens · 2 years

Text

Holding On

Chapter IV

Professor Snape x Daughter Reader

Professor Lupin x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n Snape is in her 6th year when her Dad Severus Snapes’ childhood bully breaks out of Azkaban and the other starts to work at Hogwarts. Will her feelings for Professor Lupin change over time? Or will she stay mad at him in defense of her dad? Nothing NSFW until reader is of age.

Warnings: she/her pronouns. Mentions of eating. Minor spelling and grammar errors.

Word count: 1,507

Tag list: Open 🤎 Please message to be added.

authors note: none. I just hope you all enjoy this chapter.

1 month later

It’s now October, a month into the school year. It’s beginning to cool down. Y/n has always loved the colder months, the way the leaves change in color from beautiful greens to comforting yellows, oranges, and reds. She longs for the days she can wear her coziest sweaters. Drink hot coffee while walking through Hogsmeade and getting chocolate from honeydukes. She likes to wear a different perfume in the winter and fall months from the flowery sweet scent she likes to wear in the warmer months. For the colder months, she prefers to wear a more warm vanilla scent.

As time goes on she finds herself burdened with the guilt of being quite fond of Professor Lupin‘s class. She enjoys how lively his classes are at times and how enthusiastic he is about it. Then she remembers that he stood by and allowed his friends to harass her father and how her dad now has to suffer from the years of emotional trauma his friends caused. As the full moon approaches this mid-September she found herself feeling empathetic for the man for what he becomes once a month. She wonders how such a kind man as himself becomes something so horrible once a month. After class one morning he asked her to stay behind.

“Y/n will you stay please, I’d like to discuss your paper on cursed vaults.”

“Yes Professor.”

After all the students left y/n made her way to his desk.

“Was there an issue with my paper professor?”

“No not at all, it was quite intriguing to read actually, very well-written paper. Please sit.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “I wanted to actually ask you about your patronus from the first lesson.”

“Oh yes, the bunny.”

“Yes. I hope I’m not over stepping by asking you this, what were you thinking of when you formed your patronus?”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all. It was the first time I went trick or treating, I was six years old. My father took me to a more friendly wizard neighborhood and took me trick or treating for the first time. That’s when I discovered I loved chocolate. And fruity sweets as well.”

“That’s beautiful Y/n.”

“Thank you Professor. If you don’t mind me asking, what is your patronus?”

“It’s only fair you ask considering I asked you. You see I don’t form my patronus anymore.”

“It’s a wolf isn’t it?”

“Your to clever for your own good.” He said with a shy laugh to himself.

“I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of. I understand that it hurts you to be constantly remind of it but wolves are fascinating animals.”

“Are they.” He said with a small grin on his face.

“They are in fact, they are highly intelligent, caring and devoted, loyal.”

“Done your research have you?”

“Yes, about 4 years ago.”

“Y/n”

“Yes Professor.”

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“It’s not my place to.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all, really. I will be by tonight with your potion though.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I must get going now, I have astronomy class next.”

“I’ll see you later then.”

“Yes, see you later.”

Y/n often enjoyed talking to Professor Lupin, he was always so kind to her, always appeared so intriuged when ever she spoke. She questioned at times if he was just that kind or if it was to make sure he stayed on her good side because she knew of his lycanthropy.

She carried on as usual and dinner came around quickly. When she entered the great hall she noticed her father talking to Minerva and saw that there was no Lupin. Y/n went to the kitchens had the house elves make. Her a plate and then then made her way to the potions class room and took all the bottles of wolfsbane potion and placed them in a basket. She also went to her fathers collection of potions and gathered a healing potion as well to help with the recovery. She also went into her hidden stash of choclate and grabbed a bar odf honey dukes choclate with toffee pieces in it. And placed a little note on to it,”this one is my favorite, i hope you enjoy it.”

She gathered her basket and the plate of food and made her way to his class room. When she arrived she noticed the food was cold and did a quick heating spell to warm it up before knocking on the door. Once she knocked a faint, “just a second,” could be heared.

“Hello Y/n, I almost forgot you were coming.” No I didn’t, how could i ever forget about you.

“Sorry it took me awhile, I had the house elves make you a plate when i noticed you weren’t at dinner.”

“Thank you dear, that’s awfully kind of you.” He said taking the plate and the basket. Dear, what are you thinking, your her teacher and her father wouldn’t think twice before poisoning you. He thought to himself as he took the plate and basket from her.

“Well I must go now. Before my father questions where I’ve run off to. Goodbye Professor.” See, you’ve made her uncomfortable you old fool.

“Good bye Y/n.” She loved the way his name rolled of his tongue but could never admit that. Y/n made her way back to her and her fathers living quarters to discover a plate of dinner on the table and her father in the shower. She sat and ate dinner and read a book while her father prepared for the night.

“Why weren’t you at dinner this evening.”

“I took Lupin his potion.”

“It could have waited till after dinner.”

“I understand that, I also took him a plate of food.”

“It’s not your fault if the fool chooses to starve himself.”

“I’m sorry.” She said in a sadden tone, I shouldn’t be so kind to him, she thought to her self.

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He said hugging his daughter.

“I feel guilty at times. Like I should hate him because you do.”

“I wouldn’t want you to darken your heart with hate for me.”

There night continued as usual, tea before bed and y/n staying up late reading.

The week went on as usual, only this time on Saturday y/n found her self alone in the woods starring at the shreaking shack. Her father stayed behind preparing over the weekend to cover Lupins classes for the week.

“Y/n is that you?” She turned around and saw it was Lupin

“Oh, hi professor. How are you?”

“I’m quite alright actually, just a little tired. What brings you out here.”

“I walk out to hogsmeade every Saturday with my father, but he stayed behind this time so now I’m here on my own.”

“My apologies, I can’t help but think it’s the trouble of covering my classes this upcoming week keeping him from you.”

“Oh no, I’m okay honestly. What brings you out here?”

“The weather is nice, I figured I’d go on a walk. When I saw you, you were staring at the shrieking shack, why?” Great you fool now she thinks your a creep following her out to the woods.

“I know everyone else was told the same story of the shrieking shack to deter people from it. But growing up my father told me a different story, of a werewolf. Which I now realize is you. Why are you here, reminiscing?”

“In a way yes. I’m feeling a tad nostalgic if you will.”

“Oh, understandable, would you like to walk back with me?”

“I would enjoy that. Yes.”

They went back walking through the woods talking and laughing about all sorts of things. He eventually asked her what she got from her trip to hogsmead and she told him what she had purchased such as a gift for her father and chocolate from Honeydukes.

“I too have a fondness for Honey Dukes Chocolate.”

“What is your favorite?”

“It’s a toss up between regular milk chocolate or the one with toffee pieces.”

“Oh! I as well, but I also enjoy chocolate with caramel so very much.” She said with a small giggle at the end that made Remus is knees weak and insides warm.

When they arrived back at Hogwarts he walked her to her living quarters.

“Thank you for the company Professor, I enjoyed it.”

“Thank you for allowing me accompany you, I enjoyed it as well.”

“Goodbye Professor.”

“Goodbye Y/n.”

With that he walked away with her stuck in his mind and it would be like for a while, the sounds of her laugh plagued his mind the rest of the weekend. When she entered the room and was greeted by her dad who had lunch set on the table.

“How was your walk this morning.”

“It was quite nice actually. I got you this while I was out.” She said handing him a jar fairy wings.

“Thank you, how did you get these?”

“The shipment came in last night, those were the last ones left.”

“Thank you darling.”

They continued there day with her father preparing to teach Lupins classes for the week and her finishing assignments that are due that the upcoming Monday and Tuesday.

“Your welcomed to skip classes this up coming Monday seeing as I’ll be your teacher for your first two classes.”

“I’m fine going to class.”

“Decide what you will.”

“Okay, thank you.”

•

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