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matchingbatbites · 10 months

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"What the fuck did you do?"

Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.

"Well-"

"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"

Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.

“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”

“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”

No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-

He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.

The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since.

Jesus Christ.

“Eddie?”

The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”

In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄

”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“

Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-

He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.

”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.

“Eddie, what-

”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“

Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious.

Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.

Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-

Anything other than what Steve actually sent.

'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'

And Eddie-

Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath.

Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?

This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.

‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’

He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.

‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’

Steve saves him by sending another message.

‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’

He- What-

Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.

There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.

‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’

#like everyone else those new pics of joe keery left me kind of #feral. horny. slutty.#so i channeled my feeling a bit #i miiiight do more of this but no promises #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #rockstar eddie munson #actor steve harrington #joey writes #ficlet #fun fact: eddie's tweet was my actual real life message to my friends about those pics

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opluffys · 10 months

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Hey ! I love your stuff ! What a bout a pov when Ghost does spicy things whit the fem reader , but she is pregnant ! Xoxo

hi thank you so much!!! <3 very very sorry for answering this so late!! i just saw it now :( but i hope that you like it and that i wrote what you had in mind :) <3

•

-nsfw/smut-

ghost has gotten lucky enough to be home with you for the last stretch of your pregnancy. he wanted to be there for you to ensure that you didn't have to lift a finger. there were many times where you had to wake him in the dead of the night, just to shyly ask him to run to the store for your off the wall cravings.

but ghost would always make sure that you were satisfied, gently pushing his fingers inside your wet pussy when you grew needy. or he’d lower himself to his knees and eating at you like a man starved. but he hasn't been overly intimate with you in a while, ever since you started getting later and later into your pregnancy. truth be told, ghost didn't want to hurt you, he would never forgive himself, especially if it was for something as superficial as his own pleasure. as long as you’re appeased, he’s happy.

right now, you're standing in front of your mirror, changing into your nightclothes. ghost silently watches as you do your little routine that takes longer and longer each day- it's the only thing he's not allowed to help you with. he's downright staring at you, that ethereal glow that usually surrounds you has increased tenfold.

and he can't take it anymore.

he hasn't been able to for the last couple of weeks, either. he excuses himself to your shared restroom, not missing your concerned glance towards him. he quickly locks the door behind him and stares at his own reflection. he runs a hand over his face, tired and rugged, so undoubtedly him.

he can feel how strained his pants are, lowering them just enough so his cock hits his abdomen. he braces a single hand on the porcelain sink, wrapping his hand around his painfully hard length. he stifles a groan, gradually beginning to set a slow pace.

and oh, ghost wishes that it was you. picturing your pretty face and familiar facial expressions as he drives his cock deep into you. he can practically feel your nails digging into the muscle of his back, creating deep crescent marks that fade away with time.

his head tips back as he swipes a thumb over his tip, pre-cum spilling forth. he's unable to contain the low groan that leaves him, pure euphoria shooting through his veins.

it's short lived as he hears a knock at the door.

"simon?" your light voice reaches his ears, sounding concerned, "you okay..?"

he hesitates before answering, not making a move to open the door. a slight sense of shame fills him as he makes eye contact with that glittering band on his ring finger.

"yeah, s'alright love."

you can tell he's lying.

"can you open the door for me?"

he can't tell you no, can he?

ghost quickly makes himself look decent before opening the door, allowing you to look at him. your eyes trail lower before returning back up into his honey and clouded eyes. and he damns your intuition, because he’s sure you knew what he was doing.

“wanna help you, simon.” your hand gently brushes against the noticeable bulge in his pants. he doesn’t know what kind of hold you have over him, but that small and singular touch from you has him reeling.

“don’t-“ he lets out a shaky breath at feeling you continue, “don’t wanna hurt you, sweet girl.”

he hears you laugh, such an addicting sound that graces his ears and repeats in his head. your hand laces with his and you lead him back to the bedroom, sitting him down on the large bed.

“you’ve been gentle before.” you take a seat atop his thighs and not facing him, your clothed cunt rubbing against his cock. he instinctively places his hands on your hips, watching as you turn around to look down at him with a warm smile. your hand reaches down to push all of his necessary clothing out of the way.

your hips rise as you move your own undergarments to the side, raising yourself further to sink down his cock. it’s been a while since he’s stuffed you so full of him, a quiet whimper leaving you while he’s full on moaning your name.

“fuck, fuck you feel so fuckin’ good love.” he assists you ride him, lifting you as if you weigh absolutely nothing. his voice is strained, and you know he’s holding back just for you and your well-being. it makes your heart swell as you lace a hand with his, holding it tightly.

ghost stares, utterly mesmerised as he watches your smaller body accommodate him inside of you. he feels your cunt squeeze him tightly, your free hand curling into the sheets. your sounds start to grow as you fervently chase after your own bliss- ghost not at all minding and just glad that you were comfortable enough.

ghost is usually very good at hiding his own sounds, normally quiet so he can hear you instead. but when you just feel so phenomenal around him, so snug, warm and tight around his cock- he can’t form a single coherent thought in his mind. his moans are low and guttural, muttering praises to you with every breath he can draw. it makes your head swim, not accustomed to seeing him like this, so desperate and overly infatuated with you.

but you can definitely get used to it.

#fanfic #smut #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod smut #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #fem reader

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kpop · 2 months

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K-Pop Spotlight: DAY6

Come one, come all to a K-Pop Spotlight that is sure to dazzle and delight ’til the final curtain. This week, all eyes are on DAY6 following the release of their eighth mini-album, Fourever, and brand new title track, "Welcome to the Show." We caught up with the band to discuss their goals as they approach their 10th anniversary and their ever-growing connection to their fans through their music. Check out our full interview below!

Tracks like “Welcome to the Show,” “The Power of Love,” and “Get The Hell Out” seem to have very different themes. Can you tell us a little about how these songs relate to each other and what aspects make this album cohesive?

SUNGJIN: As we pursue the idea of being a 'band that sings every moment,' it seems like our albums, including the recent one, prioritize diversity in songs and situations rather than unity. Consequently, our albums contain various genres and narratives. However, there seems to be a commonality in most songs, depicting situations that everyone has either gone through or might experience.

Young K: First and foremost, I would say this album is a compilation of the best songs we could create. There's definitely a theme of love running through it. "Welcome to the Show," "The Power of Love," and "Get The Hell Out" all talk about the concept of love.

What goes into creating titles for DAY6 songs and albums, especially those that don’t come directly from your lyrics? Do you find it hard to condense the intentions and themes of a song into a title?

Young K: While there have been cases like that, all the songs on this album came from the lyrics. Sometimes, when choosing a title, we select the one that best describes the song—other times, we choose to give it a twist or make it more intriguing.

WONPIL: Naming songs involves a lot of deliberation. We often contemplate which title will catch the eye and capture the song's essence. Usually, we try to take it from a verse in the chorus. This can be a challenging part of the songwriting process.

Is there a creative project you’ve always wanted to work on but haven’t gotten the chance/found the time?

SUNGJIN: I'm very curious, and have a principle of "trying to experience as much as possible." There are so many things I want to try musically and personally, especially among the things I know but haven't tried yet.

DOWOON: I hope we can have a song that we can collaborate on with My Day, like a choir.

What does your work/studio setup look like? Where do you feel the most creatively inspired?

DOWOON: We try to keep the studio as tidy as possible and make it comfortable for practice sessions.

WONPIL: When working on songs, we talk a lot. We get inspiration from little conversations, joking around, sharing stories, and listening to music from various eras regardless of genre while giving opinions. We also try to build emotional connections with the songs. There’s a lot of communication going on. The songwriting process takes place in the studio of our long-time collaborator, composer Hong Jisang, with whom we've been working together since our debut.

How do you want to evolve as a musician/producer?

Young K: I want to be eagerly anticipated and awaited as an artist. Without those who wait for us, we wouldn't release or even step onto the stage. So I’m always thankful for My Day.

WONPIL: My biggest goal is to make good music for My Day and the public, so I think I'll continue to ponder. When working on songs, I pour my sincerity into them. I constantly strive to express this sincerity musically, fully capturing the emotions I want to convey. I hope to create songs that can still be listened to even after 10 or 20 years.

Design your own Tumblr blog: choose an aesthetic, a blog name, and would you be a frequent poster or lurker?

SUNGJIN: I think I’ll use it to catch up on friends' updates. For the blog name, THUMB BLUR sounds good to me. I might end up being a lurker who never posts.

DOWOON: Maybe a blog for plants? I think I'll post it like a diary.

Want more DAY6? Check out their new mini album Fourever and the music video for the title track “Welcome to the Show,” both out now!

#day6 #day6 kpop spotlight #kpop spotlight

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leviathxn · 2 months

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So I have a request for a Miguel fic, if you are willing to do it. 😊🤗

So...Miguel has a family but he hasn't told the other Spiders. One day he has to take his baby to work to look after him for a while. But then, in his office, bang the Spiders and see Miguel with a baby in his arms/or in a baby carrier. Later Miguel's wife comes in the picture too to take the baby in their universe.

OKAY I LOVE MIGUEL WITH A KID SM

So I know people were asking me for a part 2 on my other one so I’m gonna work on it but obviously it’s these requests firsttt

Thank you all so much for the support 💕

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“”Are you infected??”

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You were typically the one to watch the kids, the double trouble twins. Miguel was a busy man, protecting the spider-verse and all, so you would work from home and play with the twins. It wasn’t so bad, of course Miguel felt bad that he couldn’t have as close of a relationship with them but they still very much knew who their daddy was ((and you did too 😳)). But overall it was a good system and you would get to take things slow at home while being a fun mother.

However, every so often there was days you would need to go into work, very rare but still at least a semiannual occurrence. Sometimes you would even take them into work and they would end up bothering coworkers, but most times you were able to get a family member or close friend to watch them but as they’ve gotten older, spider powers started to shine through. Not only was it hard to control them but it would be too revealing.

Obviously nobody knew Miguel was spider-man, but if two twins started to hang on ceilings, people would eventually put two and two together. This meant you couldn’t leave them with family, resulting in Miguel carrying them around in double baby backpacks. One would be on his chest, the other in him back.

Miguel, in typical fashion, stayed in his office. Nobody assumed anything by his yelling, the man was weird, what would be surprising if he was schizo? Although every now and then people would look at each other, it didn’t sound like typical frustration or talking to himself, it was almost a back and forth. They were in no way heavy, but oh my, they were annoying. How did you get a grip on these two? They’re animals. Halfway through the day, the twins got out of the carriers and there was no going back.

“Put that down! Ay- I’m sorry don’t cry- HEY”. Miguel was struggling, because he loved the kids and he felt so bad for yelling but they wouldn’t listen. He thought to himself about the teens. You’d think as they get older they’d be better, but he saw himself comparing them to his 1 year old twins.

Disgusted at the thought, he grabbed them and webbed their hands. They giggled, struggling to get it off. It was a good distraction….. for like 3 minutes, then they were back to running around. He tried playing fetch with the twins but that didn’t go very well. They were just.. confused. Why did he throw the toy the just got. Although he appreciated their thinking skills, he really had no idea what to do. He held both of his kids, they hung from his arms and were climbing around him like a jungle gym.

Completely lost in thought about his children dilemma, the doors to his office opened, and the lovely teen band walked in. What a sight for them to see. Miguel standing completely disheveled and staring into space, a kid on his shoulder grabbing his ear, and another kid gorilla hugging his ((massive)) leg and trying to bite the suit.

Panic bells went off, everybody rushing over to Miguel. Was this an attack, was Miguel okay? Oh my gosh he’s being attacked by alien morphing baby things. As they all got ready to ready for the babies, Miguel jumped back, making sure to grab hold of his kids, and getting defensive.

“What the hell is your guys problem?!!” He shouted, sheltering both of his kids, who were now on high alert and looking fearful.

“Are those Aliena??? What happened to you, what did they do?? Why do you look like that!” Miles replied back to him, pointing his fingers at both babies. “Are you infected??”

Hobie, naturally didn’t look concerned, and stop back. “Mate, they look just like him”

“They bit him and took his DNA!! That’s why he’s protecting him”, Pavitr shouted while getting in an offensive position. Hobie almost lost is as he hurled over. Gwen looked over for a moment, then back to Miguel. “Wait… those are your kids”

“WHAT”. Miles and Pavitr shouted, looking at the very tired Miguel. “By that doesn’t make sense- you’re not- are you married??”. Questions flew right and left, chaos ensued as the babies ran around again. Miguel was done, SO DONE with babysitting the actual babies and now the teens.

Suddenly the door opened again, a very sweaty you running through. “Oh Miggy- I’m sorry I’m late I just got so lost in this place, but I’m here for the twins”. Miguel looked over at you in panic, the teen’s immediately stopped in their tracks. As the kids ran to you, so did the teens…. and what was supposed to be Miguel’s saving grace, ended up in having everybody over for dinner.

—————————————————————————

Ahh I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly what you asked for, I traveled today to see a college and I’m writing this very late so I hope you don’t mind that it’s rushed. I’ll get more writing done this week since I’m on break, I promise!

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kaitlynpcallmebeepme · 2 months

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Sea Sickness

Luke Hughes x fem!reader (established relationship, but still new)

Idea: Reader gets nauseous from being on the boat at the Hughes’s Lake House and snuggles up to Luke.

Requested: Nope.

Author’s Note: I know I’m bouncing around who I’m writing for, but I’m on a NHL spree right now. I also get nauseated if I'm on a boat or in the ocean for too long. Fun Fact: I wrote the beginning part of this on a note card while working by myself in the OR today. We had a really long case where I just had to check up on people during the middle of it (hence why I wrote this on a card because I don’t like going on my phone when I’m in the OR. It's unprofessional). I don’t know any of these people personally. The closest I’ve gotten to the team (that wasn’t just playing in the band at the games or when they were walking past us down the 2023 red carpet in tampa) was a tuba was talking to some of them in his plane row on the ride back from that trip (he ended up being the tuba you see in the senior picture from 2024) and one of the coaches had to share our bus on the way back from the 2023 frozen four game with his wife and two young daughters (I kept trying to get the younger one to smile at me unsuccessfully). Someone from my hotel room also shared the elevator ride up with the entire Fantilli family the night they lost that game in 2023 (I think Adam also won the Hobey Baker award that same night). I’ve also been playing my lego lord of the rings game. Anyway, enjoy this little blurb.

Tagging some of my favorite Hughes/NHL writers, love y’all.

@wineauntie @thedevilrisen @winterbarnesblog @sc0tters

I forgot to mention that this is kinda based on the cute stuff @bedsyandco writes

I'm now sad when I'm uploading this because a friend from college drumline has an incurable brain cancer. Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers (he's only 19 or 20).

Requests are still open. Feedback is always appreciated. Also, tell me if you want to be part of a Tag List and I’ll tag you when I upload something new. If you want to only be tagged when I upload something for a certain character or shows, let me know as well.

Warning: None, just general fluff. Feeling sick on a boat.

Word Count: 488

Being on a boat wasn’t your most favorite thing in the world, mainly because the last time you were on a boat, it got stuck in the middle of the laek and had to be towed back to shore (true story), but when your boyfriend Luke invited you to spend the weekend at the lakehouse with ihs brothers and friends, you weren't going to say no. The weekend had been filled with lots of eating, playing outside, and the boys being competitive at every game they pick up (even the old board game you brought to teach them how to play). Just trying to keep up with them all was exhausting, so that’s how you ended up on the back of the boat enjoying the warm air instead of diving into the water again. The boys had been going back and forth between wakeboarding and chatting on the boat deck. With them supplying the lake with plenty of waves, the constand up and down was starting to make your stomach sick. You scooched over and made yourself comfortable laying your head on Luke’s shoulder. He then opened his arms and wrapped you in his warm embrace so you could crawl on his lap and snuggle closer to his chest.

“You feeling ok?”

“Yeah, just want to stop the constant movement.” It was getting to a point were you just wanted to stop the constant movement. It being really hot out didn’t help either.

“We’ll head to shore soon. Then we can cool off inside.”

Being wrapped up in Luke’s embrace with his fingers gently carding through your hair or down your shoulder leaving goosebumps in their wake and shading you with his fit body definitely helped keep your mind off of your stomach and the boat’s ever shifting movements. Luke wasn’t much of a pda person, but you always encouraged him to show little bits of it at least in front of his family or close friends.

Little did you know, that’s exactly who was eyeing the interaction. Jack, Quinn, Trevor, Cole, and Dylan all had stopped what they were talking about in favor of watching the interaction between you two. Eventhough they were not all related, they felt like proud older brothers seeing Luke be so considerate and affectionate in front of them. Of couse they’re all going to tease him relentlessly later about this, but they were gentlemen in regards to respecting the timing and the moment.

“Just lay down and close your eyes. We’ll be on shore soon.” You snuggled deeper into Luke’s neck keeping your eyes closed and focused on his soft skin, his natural scent, and the way his warm body curled around yours. He even tugged on your legs to pull you fully into his lap as his large frame wrapped around your body fully encasing you in his warmth and comfort.

Nothing better than enjoying the summer with those you love.

#nhl imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #hughes brothers #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #nhl #nhl players #hockey #hockey imagine #new jersey devils #nj devils #umich hockey #umich imagine #umich x reader

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andreas-river · 1 year

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helloo!! i got a request ofc if you don’t mind<33

its reader x 141 + könig where we are complete sweethearts and we never raise our voice, everyone like thinks we are too innocent to even be there with them.

but one time someone completely pisses us off and we are already mad so we just snap and start threatening them and stuff. i would love to see their reactions:))))

if you don’t want to do this feel free to change this or ignore!

take care of yourself!<333

right and before i forget, do you take emoji anons? i kinda wanna be -💎

BYEEEEEE💕💕

141 + König X Reader Who Snaps At Them And How They Would React

Warnings: anger, mention of insult, female period (so fem!reader), light mention of sex.

Disclaimer: nothing at all, but remember: anger is never the best way to solve problems!

A/N: hi anon, sorry it took so long! And sure, you can be -💎, but if you even gonna request NSFW, please don't use the anon button!

════════════════════

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost has never been the kind of person to be affected by the behavior of others: he can handle his own emotions as well as those of others around him better than anyone else;

At first, he paid no attention when he saw you with the eyes of a hyena, looking at everyone around you with the intention of devouring them; but as soon as he heard you raise your voice to him, he froze in place;

He knew that he was not the cause of your anger, that you were having one of your worst days - someone had even insulted you and he had refrained from dealing with it personally - but now the situation was as if it had gotten out of hand;

He had never seen you in such a state: your hands clenched in an iron grip, a pen between your fingers even showing a crack in the material, your face completely red, your lower lip trembling slightly, and your eyes filled with tears: you were not the kind of person to get angry, and that emotion was not good for you at all;

And so, without saying anything, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, letting you take your anger out on him: he didn't care if you punched him in the chest or if your tears soaked his shirt.

He knew what that feeling was, and it's not easy to let it out without hurting objects or people: so he kept his arms around you as you let it out, creating a space for you that felt good as you released your anger.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Soap always knew a thing or two about anger: he often had moments when he could not hold it in, so he often went to the base gym and took out all his frustration on the punching bag hanging from the ceiling;

But seeing you angry for the first time in his life made him regret all the decisions he had made in the last few days - how did it happen? Why were you so angry? You've never been angry since he first saw you;

Even when he made all his attempts to help you look futile, he decides to take a completely different approach: he moves your attention to him, tells you how to get it all out safely without consequences for you, and both end up in the gym while he shows you how to punch the bag, the same one he has been punching almost every day;

He's not bothered by your attitude, and he's going to help you through it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"Oh Lord help me," will be his first thought when he sees you pacing around the room, fists clenched at your side, not paying much attention to your surroundings; he already knew about your terrible day, your terrible training, and even your period;

But no, he wasn't ready for you snapping at him, your finger pointing at his chest while he thought your eyes were capable of piercing his body. He immediately understood your anger and why you snapped at him like a rubber band, so fast he didn't even notice;

He took your hands and led you to the couch, encouraging you to talk and release the anger with him, even if it was difficult to explain what was going on inside your head; he listened to all your words, and even if at some point you were exhausted from all the rage boiling inside you, he continued to hold you, even if you fell asleep right in his arms, humming softly a melody for you.

John Price

Being surrounded by angry people made him stressed beyond his own limits, but he learned to deal with it in any way he could;

The first solution was the cigar, the smoke always had a calming effect on his body, helping him to relax when he needed to;

You were so calm, so gentle, even your mere presence was something he craved in his own moments, but when he saw you throwing a punch at your desk, he jumped out of his skin at your flared nostrils, your white knuckles at the side of your head, and your body stiff as a violin string;

He walks behind you and puts his hands on your shoulders, but you shrug him off harshly, not even realizing how he's reacting;

He never, never expected you to snap at him, you've always been a sweetheart to him, and in that moment it looked like he flipped a coin and could only see one side;

He sees how your anger fills your movements, pacing back and forth without even looking at him, trying to pull you out of the feeling you were experiencing: it was obvious that you were "new" at this, plus it was a reason why you never got angry even in the worst situation;

He took control of the situation by putting you on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, making you even more annoyed with his actions: but he continued, locking the door of his own office and putting you down on his chair;

Both out of breath, he just looks at you, his hand running down your body, watching you and how you try to wriggle away, but he just rests his hand on your tight, whatching you with a playful smile and eyes filled with a different light.

In the end, he knows how to make you forget even the reasons for your anger.

König

He never coped well with his own anger, which led him to run away when someone was angry at him: probably a trauma response, or his anxiety kicking in. The only healthy way for him to deal with it was sparring;

And he freezes in place when you unintentionally snap at him, not even thinking about how he would react; he just stands there, listening to your unconnected words, witnessing your anger for the first time.

He doesn't speak or move, he doesn't even dare to react physically: he just watches you carefully, noting every movement, how you speak, how you try to hold something in your hands but almost break it;

That's when he realizes how to take the anger out of you: his sudden change of behavior makes you fall silent while he invites you to follow him. When he takes you to the mat for sparring, he gets into position and waits for you, and it doesn't take long for you to step in front of him;

Even if he doesn't put all his power into the fight, he notices that his plan is going right: he makes you let off steam by giving all your attention to him, to the fight, and to his movement;

Even if you don't get angry anymore, sparring has quickly become the best activity for both of you.

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 3 months

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Cân i Gymru 2024

It has just occurred to me that I can actually recreate Cân i Gymru for you all through the power of the Internet and Tumblr and such like. Given that Eurovision is out this year, please enjoy the Eurovision of my people.

The artists are much less important to us than the songwriters. Sometimes those are the same people, but sometimes not. The winners of this contest are the songwriters, though, the artists are just a necessary evil.

So! The entries!

youtube

First up! Heno, meaning 'tonight'. The songwriters wanted to write something that would make everyone want to dance :). The artists are therefore a sexy Eurovision-style singer who hits notes I previously have only heard autotuned in Crypt of the Necrodancer, and a funky DJ man. This is the most Eurovision-y song, probably.

youtube

Yr Un Fath (The Same Thing), by Jacob Howells! He wrote this one himself. Lovely lad, from Llanelli. A gentle ballad.

youtube

Again, singing their own song! These are the songwriters! Exciting. This is Cymru yn y Cymylau (Wales in the Clouds), which is a very nice song about how no matter where they go in the world, they see Wales - and by extension their Welshness - in the clouds, staying with them. A route back home.

youtube

Mêl (Honey). Same again, they wrote their own song. This is a song about late stage capitalism and the environment and having hope for the future told through the metaphor of bees. Slight funk/soul vibe. The stage backdrop was increasingly filled with clipart bees.

youtube

Cysgod Coed (The trees' shadow). A ballad about lost love and broken promises. The songwriter is teenage girl Efa Rowlands, the singer is classmate Gwion Phillips.

youtube

This one felt the most like a Swedish Eurovision entry. The singer is half of Welsh band Lofi Jones, but no one even mentioned that, because he didn't write the song, so it's not about him. The song Pethau Yn Newid (Things Are Changing) instead is about how life is moving too fast and we should appreciate the time we have more, because he's aging and everything is changing and he can't keep up. They probably should have gotten someone older to sing it.

youtube

Absolute vocal powerhouse ballad, Ti (You) is part-written and all-performed by music teacher Sara Davies. The lyrics were a love letter her grandfather wrote to her grandmother before he died; Sara then wrote the music for it. The background photos are her grandparents. Her grandmother was actually in the live audience on the night.

youtube

And the last one! Goleuni (Lights) is by a pair of songwriters (one music teacher and one West End star) who wanted to write a song of hope for the dark times, because the world is shit but Still We Persist. They're both talented and established songwriters. The performer is a seventeen year old schoolgirl in the class of one of the songwriters.

~~~~

So!

Anyway I disagreed with the first second and third placings of the Welsh public so hmu Tumblrs who are we choosing

#wales!#closed for cleaning on mondays #welsh musics #Youtube

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watchmegetobsessed · 11 months

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MY HUSBAND

A/N: some extra fluffiness bc this scene was stuck on my mind all day

WORD COUNT: 835

SUMMARY: It's been days since your wedding, but it is just now sinking in. Harry is your husband.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It’s a miracle you’re up before noon. You haven’t really seen the sun before twelve these past days even though you are supposed to be on vacation.

Well, honeymoon, to be precise.

That’s right. You married your best friend and love of your life exactly four days ago, but it still feels like a fever dream. You got the wedding of your dreams in the Italian countryside with all your loved ones, family and closest friends, you danced the night away celebrating the start of your marriage. Part of you expected an extraordinary feeling the moment you said ‘I do’ and it really was the best day of your life, but you haven’t quite processed the change it has brought to your life.

Now you’re lying in bed, the warm breeze is carrying the salty scent of the sea through the open windows and you’re watching Harry snoozing peacefully beside you in bed, the crispy, white sheets are tangled around his waist, but most of his upper body is fully naked to your sleepy eyes. He looks beautiful, delicious, like a dream and it finally hits you, like a switch has been flipped.

He is your husband. Harry is now your husband.

Lifting your head up above you, you stare at your wedding band with a full heart and giddy head. It’s such a simple, tiny object but it means so much, if not everything. Even after five years of dating, seven years of being friends, it’s still hard to believe Harry chose you the way you chose him to spend the rest of your life with.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you turn to your side and examine his side profile in the soft light. The slope of his nose, his puckered lips, his curly eyelashes fanned out perfectly… The way his chest slowly rises with each breath he draws and how his ribs are showing through his soft skin, since one of his arms is tucked under his head, the other one is somewhere under your pillow. He is radiating warmth and every inch of his perfect body is screaming to be kissed.

At first you reach out and run your fingers down his sternum, across his tummy and over his little happy trail that disappears underneath the sheets and you know for a fact he is wearing nothing, because you were the one who freed him of his clothes last night when you got back from dinner.

He doesn’t react to your touch, so you dare to draw the laurel tattoos on his hips with the pad of your finger before pulling your hand back and admiring his beauty in silence. But then the urge is just too hard to fight and you push yourself up, the sheets pooling around your naked waist and you lean over, bringing your lips to the delicious, exposed skin just above his navel.

You pepper tiny kisses down his stomach, over his belly button and down his happy trail, kissing each of the laurels as well and that’s when he takes a deep breath, his hands moving to his face to rub his eyes.

When he finally opens them you’re sitting up next to him, staring down at him with a beaming smile.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks in that irresistible, groggy morning voice that makes your insides turn in an instant.

“You’re my husband.”

You see the surprise on his face at first along with the confusion before he breaks out into a smile.

“I am, yeah,” he grins, his hand reaching out and settling on your waist. “And you’re my wife,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Doesn’t that sound… magical?” you sigh dreamily and he finally understands what this is all about.

“It does. I love the sound of it. I’ve been waiting for a long time to call you that.”

Heat crawls up your neck at his words, even after all this time he never fails to make you giddy.

“We’re not just girlfriend and boyfriend anymore.” Moving closer you lie back down as his arms lock around you, pulling you on top of him.

“Mm, not anymore,” he smirks.

“You’re not just my fiancé…” you keep musing and Harry nods. “You are… my husband.”

“That’s right,” he chuckles and you can feel his chest vibrating under you.

“Thank you.”

“For being your husband?” he arches an eyebrow.

“For choosing me.”

“I didn’t choose you,” he says, squeezing your sides. “There was no choice to make, no decision. I knew you were it for me, I didn’t have to even think about it.”

“You always say you knew it the moment we met.”

“I did.”

“But we didn’t even talk that night, how would have you known?” Harry shrugs.

“I just did. In here,” he says, tapping his chest with one hand. When it returns to your waist you lean down and kiss his peck over his heart.

“Alright then,” you smile at him. “I believe you, husband.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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sanguineterrain · 1 month

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hi sanne!!! my mind has been rotting with assistant!reader x dick, and i literally can’t get it out 😭. i'm in love with your writing and reblog everything! thank you so much, have a great day!!

cute idea! I gave it a little twist ;) hope u enjoy!

dick grayson x gn!assistant!reader. flirting, secret identities, sparring.

****

Bruce Wayne is evasive on a good day and downright invisible on a bad one.

So when you see him down the hallway from his office, attempting to escape without being caught, you nearly trip on your feet trying to catch him.

"Mr. Wayne!"

His shoulders rise with tension. You pity the guy, you really do. Being a gazillionaire is tough.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, Sharon has been hounding me about the charity dinner. Please, if you could just go to this one dinner... you haven't been to an event all month."

And you're getting the brunt of it from all of WE's clients.

Bruce turns, his smile looking more like a grimace. "Hn. Hello. A dinner? I was sure I had a shareholder meeting that day—"

"All month? B, what happened to the two event minimum? That's your rule."

The new voice comes from behind you. Dick Grayson walks down the hallway, wearing jeans that probably cost as much as your monthly rent.

"Mr. Grayson," you say, nodding primly. "How are you?"

You shift the files in your hands as they start to slip. Dick is quick to catch them, balancing the stack.

"We've been through this," he says with a smile. "You know you can call me Dick."

Yes, you've been through this. Every time Dick shows up to Wayne Enterprises, he tells you to call him by his first name. And every time after that, you call him Mr. Grayson.

"Right..." you say, taking back the files. You turn to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, if you would just consider the dinner..."

Dick gives Bruce a severe look. "B, this is ridiculous. You're such a stickler for rules and yet—"

"Oh, look at the time." Bruce scoots past you and Dick. "I've got that meeting with Lucius. Where does the day go? Please tell Sharon I'll get back to her."

You can't understand how a guy whose biggest exertion is made by playing tennis at the country club can slip through your fingers so fast. He's around the corner before you can blink. You sigh.

"Don't worry," Dick says. "I'll get him to go. And I'll get one of my siblings to tag along to make sure he doesn't duck out early."

You smile briefly. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Grayson."

"Dick. So!" He trails behind you as you make your way back to your office. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Working."

"O-kay..." Dick jogs ahead to hold the door open for you. You push through, trying not to frown. "What about tomorrow night?"

You toss your scarf on the hook. It ends up on the floor. You ignore it.

"Still working."

"How 'bout I ask B to give you the day off then?"

Now it's your turn to give a severe look. "If you're implying that I'd be obligated to go out with you in return for a day off, you've completely misjudged my character, Mr. Grayson."

"Whoa, okay." He holds up his hands. "You're right, that didn't come out right. How about I get him to give you a day off, no strings attached?"

You dump your files and sit at your desk. "That's at your discretion."

"Hey." Dick leans on your desk, puppy eyes at full power. "Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Did I do something that put you off? I'd like you to tell me if I have. I hope the fact that I'm Bruce's son isn't stopping you from being honest."

You put down your pen and look at him. "Look. You seem like a nice guy, and you're handsome with a rich dad to boot. But I'm just not available, okay? You're looking for someone to go to Tahiti with. I respect that. But I'm not that person. I'm just not interested in that."

"You think I'm handsome?"

You sigh and open your laptop.

"Right! Sorry. Not the point." Dick sinks into a crouch next to you. He pulls the oddest poses sometimes, like he's made of rubber bands. "Okay. You're not looking for a trip to Tahiti. Got it. I don't take many vacations anyway. So how about having a friend?"

"And why would you want to be my friend? I'm just some assistant."

"Well, I..." Dick scratches his neck. "I like you. Is that so hard to believe?"

Very. But okay. You can throw him a bone.

"I guess not," you say.

Dick frowns. "You don't believe me."

How does he do that?

"Can I please get back to work?" you ask, only a little worried about being rude. "I'm sorry, I'm just very busy."

His face falls briefly before he stands and nods.

"Of course. No problem. I'll see you around? And I'll get B to go to that dinner."

"Thank you."

You don't notice his lingering looks, or the fact that he picks up your scarf and places it on the hook on his way out.

****

3...17...64.

The safe clicks. You smirk. Easy peasy. The hotshots always use their own birthdays for combinations. Predictable. You bet Bruce Wayne does the same.

It's a blessing that you were able to duck out early today. Bruce gave you the rest of the afternoon off. You suspect that was due to some outside meddling.

You take out the files from D.A. Colson's safe. You always say that if crooked district attorneys don't want their documents stolen, they shouldn't put them where anybody can find them.

...Maybe you were too harsh with Dick. He's sweet, no doubt. It was nice of him to get you off early. But you kind of feel like he'd take issue with the fact that you spend your weeknights breaking and entering.

"You know, cracking safes is already Catwoman's shtick," a voice says behind you. "You might wanna find a new gimmick."

A thrill shoots through you. You toss your head as you turn, leaning against the open safe.

"Catwoman steals diamonds." You hold up the documents. "I just steal files."

"Files from the district attorney," Nightwing says, crossing his arms.

"The dirty district attorney," you correct.

"I'm supposed to let you off on a technicality?" He sounds amused.

Your shrug one shoulder, a little coy. "You could. I hear you're the nice one."

He laughs. Nightwing has a pretty smile. It's the first thing you'd noticed about him.

"Oh, yeah? Anything else you've heard?"

"Plenty. But I'm in a bit of a hurry tonight, Wing. As much as I enjoy our little chats..."

You dart to the window. Nightwing easily blocks your exit.

You're not quite sure what overtakes you when you run into Nightwing. Ignoring the fact that he manages to be the one to chase you almost every time (and what a chase it is), there's a tension between you. Or maybe it's just one-sided on your part. It certainly doesn't help that he's got a nice smile and bouncy hair.

"You know I can't let you go," he says, hands on his hips. "Put it down."

And he's extremely good at what he does.

"Make me," you say.

He never uses his escrima sticks, which you know is a courtesy to you. But that doesn't mean you can't hold your own.

"Alright," Nightwing says, smirking slightly.

He takes three steps, blocks your immediate kick, and takes the documents.

Something swoops in your belly. You kind of get why Catwoman exclusively fights Batman. Once you go bat, you never go back.

"Got them," he says cheerily. "Now what?"

You throw a glass bird tchotchke at him from Colson's desk. He catches it with his free hand, but it's enough of a distraction for you to slide into his legs. Nightwing stumbles less than you would like, but you push him down against the desk.

He grunts as he hits the wood, then rolls you over in the next breath, hands catching your wrists.

"Stealing... makes you no better... than Colson," he says, hair falling over his mask. All of him is pretty, really. It's too bad he's so firmly on the blind side of justice.

"If these documents are released, Colson will win his case and bury his own crimes in the process. Is that what you want? Another crook in court?" you ask.

Nightwing frowns. "You know that's not fair. We can't toss a case for the sake of putting Colson behind bars. And if we pick and choose whose lives to play with, what gives us the right to carry out justice?"

"I dunno, Wing," you say, a little breathless. Nightwing's hips are politely shifted off of yours, chest to yours. "Seeing you go rogue would be kind of exciting."

You can tell he's glaring at you. "Not in your dreams."

"Been in my dreams, have you?"

You gain enough leverage to push Nightwing off of you. He's back on you immediately, trapping you against the wall.

"How is doing something like this not crooked?" he asks.

You scoff. "It's for charity. I'm donating residents to the county jail."

You twist in Nightwing's hold and land a kick. In the three seconds he's distracted, you grab the documents. No sooner do you do that does Nightwing tackle you. The documents slip out of your hand.

"I can do this all night," he says, knee wedged between your legs. "Might as well yield."

"Yield? You're not even playing at your full strength, hotshot."

He smiles. "No, I'm playing nice."

You roll your eyes. "Well, play fair."

And then you jump out of the window.

Your tuck and roll isn't the worst but it's not the best. Especially when Nightwing neatly lands a few feet away without a wince.

"Showoff," you say.

"Give me the documents," he says. "I want to put Colson away, too. But this isn't how to do it. He's still a civilian, and his client's life matters."

You get up and wobble on a loose brick on the edge. Stupid historical buildings.

You're desperate. If he keeps this up, you're bound to land yourself a night in the police station and lose the documents.

So you dust yourself off. And you stop. Right at the edge of the roof.

"Okay," you say.

Nightwing takes a careful step forward. "Okay?"

You toss the documents to him. He catches them in surprise.

"You're surrendering?" he asks.

You shrug. "Like you said: you can do this all night. And I guess there are better ways to catch Colson. More permanent ways."

He tilts his head. "You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

"No! Jesus, man. Ye of little faith."

"I'm just trying to understand why you surrendered."

You sigh. "Because you always win anyway. You're a better fighter than me. And I'm cornered. I just feel like cutting my losses early. You're a lot more convincing than Batman."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah. I much prefer you chasing me."

"Uh-huh." He nods towards the building. "Come on, then."

"Okay, sure."

You take a step. And you fall.

The brick is loose under your foot. It doesn't take much for you to keep going.

Panic surges through you, but that only solidifies your acting.

"Wing!" you cry, toppling over the edge.

"Shit!"

Nightwing lunges and grabs you by your waist, then uses momentum to haul you both to safety. His cheek against yours for a moment, body pressed to yours. It really is a damn shame he's such a Boy Scout.

You knock him in the stomach and snatch the documents, then separate from his grip. You watch his face contort in realization as you land and bolt.

"That wasn't playing nice or fair!" he yells, landing on the opposite side.

You're already gone, laughter echoing.

#dick Grayson x reader #dick Grayson x you #Nightwing x reader #Nightwing x you #Nightwing fanfiction #nightwing x y/n #dick Grayson fanfiction #dick Grayson imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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eufezco · 5 months

Text

HEART TO HEART — FINNICK ODAIR x FEM!READER

Synopsis — It's hard to get your life back on track when the Capitol has gotten inside your head but Finnick is there to help you. You were enjoying a party in District 13 when you discovered something that triggered you.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ And I break down, then he's pulling me in. In a world of boys, he's a gentleman ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Finnick looked at Katniss and considered himself a lucky man.

Although both of them had managed to get back the loves of their lives, their situations now were quite different from what they were used to. Finnick now looked at Peeta and realized how the Capitol had completely destroyed the friend he made in the games, making him incapable of telling the difference between what was real and what the Capitol put in his head. Finnick saw the sadness grow in Katniss' eyes as she and Peeta couldn't spend more than five minutes together without him wanting to jump on her neck.

You, on the other hand, had your moments of lucidity.

Finnick considered himself lucky for being able to enjoy the person you were before the Capitol took you, but the longer those moments lasted, the worse your breakdowns were.

Even though he considered himself luckier than Katniss, it wasn't being easy for him either. He hated to see you fighting the medical team from District 13 while they were trying to inject you with a sedative and the way he had to hold you so they could do it. He hated to see you with your hands and legs tied to the bed as you tried to free yourself from the straps that held you to the mattress. He hated to see your eyes red with rage, the way you flinched when someone made an unexpected move next to you, and how you could not help but be alert to everything that was going on around you.

But Finnick also appreciated when he saw you smile, or talking to someone who wasn't him, or seeing that you had changed your clothes that day or enjoying your meal in the dining room. The way your eyelashes fluttered when he spoke to you like he was the most magnificent thing you had ever seen, how you were always looking to have some sort of physical contact with him whether it was sitting too close at the table or something more subtle like seeking for his hand in the crowd as you listened to the words that Alma Coin pronounced.

The Capitol caused irreparable damage but they had not been able to take everything from you.

―Let's give a huge round of applause to Sarah and Mike from District 11!

The two siblings had been singing since dinner was over along with their band. The lights in the dining room were dimmer, not the cold white ones that gave you a headache every time you went inside. They had set up a small stage and some decorations on the ceiling. Alma Coin knew that Christmas was close and wanted to do something special to raise people's spirits, and it seemed to be working because after dinner, people had stayed to listen to the siblings sing, and some had even encouraged to go out and dance.

―We still have time for a couple more songs, any requests? ―The boy spoke into the microphone, looking at the audience.

It was your hand that rose.

Finnick and Katniss who were sitting at the table with you looked at each other. You got up from the table and walked to the stage, well, you didn't feel your feet moving on the floor, it was more like you were floating. You were enjoying the little concert so much that you had managed to remember all the lyrics of the songs that they had performed when just a few days ago you couldn't even remember your name, your feet moved under the table following the rhythm of the instruments and you even hummed some of the words.

Both siblings approached the edge of the stage and bent down to listen to the title of the song you were asking for. They looked at each other, satisfied, and more than approving your request. You went back to your seat at the table, happy, and before Katniss and Finnick could ask about the song, the little girl called your name through the microphone.

―Why don't you come and sing with us? ―She asked you in her sweet voice. All the people in the dining room were waiting for your answer, some you knew were encouraging you to come up like Haymitch and Effie, and others you knew were judging you just by the way their eyes were on you like Gale, but you didn't care because since your return you had never wanted anything so much as to get on that stage with those two kids.

Finnick held your hand, his eyebrows drawn together. ―Are you sure?

You nodded and showed him a little smile, reassuring him.

They welcomed you with smiles and sweet gestures to show you where to stand. They had placed a microphone in the middle of the two siblings for you.

―May I? ―You asked for the guitar the young girl was holding. She showed you a smile and gave it to you. The guitar felt out of place in your hands, as if it was a stranger and it was the first time you were meeting each other. That was not the truth, the truth was that you had been playing the guitar for as long as you could remember. You liked to play it for the children at District 4 while they sat around the campfire in the sand accompanied by Finnick and they sang with you. But now it all seemed so far away and the instrument felt odd in between your fingers.

You coughed to clear your throat without realizing that you did it right into the microphone. Finnick smiled at how innocent that had been and you smiled embarrassed. ―Sorry.

The two siblings from District 11 were looking at you with their big eyes and with smiles of comfort on their faces, waiting for you to start singing but all those people staring at you was all you could think about. You couldn't remember how the lyrics started.

Finnick nodded at you from the audience.

Can't take my past Can't take my history

The little girl sang for you. There was a friendly expression on her face. Her eyebrows were raised as she was singing the beginning of the song and she nodded as she looked at you, trusting that you knew the words and helping you with her kind gesture to find them.

You could take my pa But his name's a mystery

Her brother continued singing. A similar expression was on his face. Apart from your friends and Finnick, you had trouble finding people who trusted you in District 13. You didn't blame them because even you found it hard to trust yourself.

Nothing you can take from me Was ever worth keeping Nothing you can take Was ever worth keeping

Your voice didn't sound as you expected, it was still the same sweet voice as always. You expected to have completely destroyed it after all the screaming you did at the Capitol, but no, your voice was still there, just as Finnick remembered it. He was trying very hard not to burst into tears because he knew you were watching him.

The band played the song perfectly on their instruments while you tried to follow them on the guitar and more people listening to the lively rhythm of the song came out and danced in the center of the dining room.

Can't take my charm Can't take my humor You can't take my wealth 'Cause it's just a rumor Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping

Those lines you were singing meant so much, it was like pulling the middle finger to the Capitol. He had never seen you so happy since before the Quarter Quell. There was a smile on your lips while you sang, your body moved to the rhythm of the son, your hands moved skilfully on the guitar, and the boy and the girl from District 11 danced on the stage around you.

―Come on. ―Katniss stood and Finnick looked up at her with his green eyes glassy thanks to the tears.

―Come on where? ―Finnick asked.

―We're gonna dance.

Katniss took his hands and dragged him to the dance floor.

Thinking you're so fine, thinking you can have mine Thinking you're in control Thinking you'll change me, maybe rearrange me Think again, if that's your goal

You laughed into the microphone watching them and you handed the little girl her guitar back. You came down from the stage to join them. Katniss stepped back when she saw you coming and you followed Finnick's movements. He had always been a very good dancer so you let him lead you. You twirled around, laughing, until you were so dizzy that you had to wrap your arms around Finnick's neck, your fingers digging into his hair while his arms went around your waist.

―You were amazing. ―He told you, speaking a little louder so that you could hear him over the music. You hugged him again.

―I love you so much.

Finnick cupped both of your cheeks and kissed you. ―I love you too. ―He said before the group of little girls pulled you by the arm so you'd dance with them.

He kept dancing or something like that with Katniss but with his eyes fixed on you. The girls were being so nice; two of them held your hands while the other two were dancing on their own. Their hairs were tied up in braids and they even asked you if they could braid yours later.

But all of a sudden, you let go of their hands and took a few steps backward, bumping into the people dancing. The girls looked at you worried, had they done something wrong? ―No, no, no. ―You mumbled to yourself.

Finnick stopped and approached you quickly, pushing people out of his way when he saw the change in your mood. He took your face in between his hands, looking for your eyes but they were focused on something that wasn't him. You pushed him once his hands cupped your cheeks, only making eye contact with him for a few seconds and then going back to focus on something else.

When Finnick decided to follow your gaze, he felt a wave of heat form in his lower body and rise to his head. Cressida was behind Castor, directing how the shots of you dancing with the girls should look like. By that time you already left the room.

You tried to record a propo a few days after your arrival in District 13. Heavensbee, but especially Coin, were very insistent that you should do it. They said that your rescue and your dedication to the revolution would bring hope to the people resisting in the districts. You weren't too sure about it, much less Finnick and Katniss, who could see how bad was your state to be exposed to something like that.

You were still in a daze, confused with everything that was going on, and very weak physically when you stood in front of the camera in the ruins of District 13 covered with white roses. The smell of the flowers made you fall to your knees in the debris before Finnick could catch you and throw up everything you had eaten since you were taken out of the Capitol.

―I'm okay, I can do this. ―You said, wiping your mouth with the cuff of your uniform, but it was not true and you found out that when you got in front of the camera. Castor pointed the lens at you while Cressida repeated behind him what you were supposed to say. The spotlights were on you and also were the eyes of the president herself, who had come to the surface to see you film the propo, and suddenly you were back at the Capitol, sitting in front of Caesar Flickerman, drugged to the point where you could not remember your name just the words they'd been repeating for you to say during the interview. Your outfit was tight, your face was covered with powder and make-up so that the bruises would not be visible.

―Don't make me regret rescuing you. ―Alma Coin said to you with a smile on her face before the propo. Something similar to what he told you when the Capitol took you out of the arena.

―Don't make me regret not killing you.

After that day, only one type of images of you was broadcast for the rest of the districts to see and they were of you living your life in District 13, recording you when you didn't notice and taking advantage of the moments when you were doing well to show it to the rest of the nation and obviously, without your consent.

Finnick was not happy with that decision and he made sure to make it clear at the meeting at which it was discussed, shouting, running his hands over his face, offering himself to do all the propos they wanted. He was desperate to get them to let you recover in peace.

Katniss agreed with Finnick. She did not like the idea of turning you into a product to fool people into thinking that everything was fine, much less without having your approval. Haymitch and Effie were silent but neither did they agree with what Alma Coin wanted to do with you and Beetee suggested other options but nothing was as valuable to Alma as your image.

The only ones who openly agreed with Heavensbee and Coin were Cressida and Gale. She said that it would be good for the spirit of rebellion and that they would do it so discreetly that you would never know. On the other hand, it seemed like Gale had a lot to say even though he didn't know you at all, and because of that, he ended up in the infirmary that afternoon after he replied to Finnick's complaints by saying:

―There are times when we have to do things we don't want to do, you should know that better than anyone else.

And Finnick couldn't help himself and get up from his seat and before Gale could finish speaking Finnick's fist was already against his cheekbone. That same hand with which Finnick hit Katniss' friend was now smacking Castor's camera into the floor, a gasp could be heard from the people who had stopped dancing to see what was happening. Finnick pointed at Cressida with his index finger, threateningly.

―I warned you to keep that shit away from her.

Katniss was fast to intervene, stepping in between Finnick and the woman. She looked at Cressida with pure rage but knew she couldn't do anything with all those people watching ―Go find her.

Finnick approached the girls you had been dancing with. He knelt by their side. ―Did you see where she went? ―He asked kindly to them, perfectly hiding his nervousness. One of them pointed at one of the doors and he immediately knew where you were. He flashed a smiled to her as a thank you.

―Have we done something wrong? ―She played with her hands.

―No, she was having lots of fun with you. ―Finnick caressed the hair at the top of the little girl's head and stood on his feet.

―When you find her, please tell her we still want to braid her hair.

You were sitting on the floor, holding your legs close to your chest. You had already hidden in that place several times before. It was Katniss who found the first time because it was the same place where she would hide right after she was rescued.

You moved back and forth, mumbling words that Finnick could not decipher, and with your head down, your forehead resting on your arms. When you heard Finnick's footsteps getting closer, you tried to escape him, crawling backward and watching as he quickly approached so that you couldn't get too far away. He fell to his knees in front of you, grabbing your cheeks again to make you look at him.

―It's me. It's Finnick.

You analysed his face, your eyes moving fast across his face looking for any friendly features on that face but all you could see was the face of a traitor. Your lips trembled as they continued to mumble I don't think I can forgive him for what he's doing, Caesar. I didn't know Finnick Odair was like that, I didn't know he would join the rebellion. What you do in the games is one thing but what you do outside the arena is what defines you.

―You're safe. We're in District 13, you're not there anymore.

You're right, Caesar. He has tricked me into thinking he was someone he is not. I thank president Snow everyday for helping me realize.

―You're from District 4. We live together. Our house is near to the beach. You won the 72th Hunger Games. We went back to the arena for the Quarter Quell. The Capitol took you. I'm Finnick Odair. I was your mentor along with Max.

If he were watching this I would tell him to think for himself. It's not too late to start doing things right and stop this war, and if he is unrepentant and this has always been his true self, Caesar, I think I may have never lov...

―You're here with us and we will protect you. Katniss is here at District 13 and so are Johanna and Peeta.

...I think I may have never lo...

―You're okay, baby.

...I may have never...

You hugged Finnick tightly against you, your eyes wide open and your hands shaking from the strength you were putting into holding him to be able to feel he was real. ―I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's going on. I feel like I'm losing my mind. ―You cried.

Finnick shook his head while he held you almost as strongly as you held him. He kept whispering sweet words until he felt how your body began to relax. Finnick carefully pulled you away from him so he could use his thumbs to wipe away the tears running down your cheeks. ―It's fine, I'm here with you. It's not your fault, they've done horrible things to you but you're with me now, you're safe. They will have to go over my dead body to get their hands on you again.

He helped you to move so that you were sitting on his lap, with your head resting on his chest and his arms around your body. When some time passed and you calmed down, he could see it in the way your body had stopped shaking and also because you had stopped sobbing a while ago but you didn't want to separate from him, Finnick decided to try to cheer you up.

―Do you know who told me where you went?

You shook your head, really curious.

―Those new friends you made on the dance floor.

You pressed your lips into a smile, you were having so much fun with those little girls...―They were so cute, I must have scared them.

Finnick shook his head and kissed your temple. ―Not at all. They told me they'll wait for you. They said they wanted to braid your hair.

Now you really smiled, snuggling into his chest.

―Do you want me to take you to our room?

You shook your head, making yourself comfortable in Finnick's lap. It was not the most comfortable or welcoming place to be but he didn't want to rush you to leave. He was aware that they would be looking for you two, they would take you away from him and lock you in a room next to Peeta's, thinking that you were a menace and putting you in a place where the screams of the boy next door would drive you crazy.

―We can stay here for as long as you want then.

You hummed in response, closing your eyes and focusing on Finnick holding you in between his arms. Thanks to your head on his chest and the silence, you could hear Finnick's heart and you were relieved because it was the realest thing you had ever experienced. Its beats were peaceful but still managed to quiet all the noise in your head.

You were so immersed in Finnick's heartbeat you would swear yours was beating so hard against your chest because it wanted to escape your body so it could be closer to his.

#finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair smut #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games imagine #thg #thg finnick #thg imagine #tbosas #thg angst #thg fluff #finnick #sam claflin

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afewproblems · 5 months

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Christmas Party Wish Part One

After The Christmas party, Steve manages to avoid everyone for all of two days before Robin shows up at his front door, ready to knock it down.

He crosses from the kitchen and into the foyer just as Robin starts yelling.

"Steven Marie Harrington, you open up this door or so help me--"

Steve rolls his eyes, pulling the door inward quickly enough that Robin loses her balance and nearly topples onto the inside floor mat. If not for Steve's quick reflexes she would be face down in a heap, he tells her as much with a sly grin as he helps her to stand.

"And whose fault would that be? Nice way to treat the person who is here to help you out Dingus," Robin huffs, brushing off imaginary dust from her shoulders while Steve moves aside to let her in.

"Merry Christmas to you too Rob," Steve says tugging her towards himself. He sighs as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck, content until she blows a long wet raspberry into his check. Steve drops her with a yelp and wipes away the wet mark she left behind with grinning lips.

"That was for ignoring my call," she says with narrowed eyes, "you were supposed to come for supper on Christmas day remember?"

She shrugs off her blue parka before lifting each foot to pull off her snowy boots, Steve takes the coat and tosses it over the back of the closest chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I know," he manages after a beat, sighing as Robin scoffs. She turns on her heel and wanders into the kitchen, leaving Steve to trail after her.

"I can only assume it's because you had other plans, you can't have possibly ignored my call for some other reason, hmm?"

Steve lifts his head to stare at the ceiling and count to five.

The thing that Steve both loves and hates about his best friend is her ability to read him through and through and call him on his shit. He'd hoped to have at least a little more time to wallow in self pity though.

"You've been wallowing for two days Steve, and I know it sucks," she chews her lip for a moment before sighing, "I'm sorry about the wish game, I feel like it's my fault".

Steve shakes his head and moves to the fridge. He opens it and reaches inside for two cans of cola before turning and using his foot to nudge the door closed again. He stacks the cans, holding them both with one hand and he moves to the pantry, grabbing an old open tube of Pringles, before making his way back to the kitchen island.

"Nah," he says eventually, "it wasn't your fault, if anything it proved why I was right not to say anything".

Steve places Robin's cola and the chips on the counter beside him and cracks the tab on his can with one hand as he leans heavily against the edge. He takes a long swig from the can, pounding his chest as he finishes to release a long burp.

Robin grimaces and swats at Steve's bicep as she grabs her own can and hops up onto the counter next to Steve.

"Dis-GUST-ing," she enunciates, wrinkling her nose, "and it doesn't prove anything Steve, of course Eddie would wish for his band to succeed, he doesn't even know you're on the table".

"And besides," Robin continues, gesturing to Steve with the can, "Nancy and Jonathan don't know that I'm a friend of Dorothy and we've known each other for over a year now. You've known them for three years and haven't said anything either, Dingus, so why would Eddie feel comfortable sharing something like that in front of everyone?"

And, huh, well what Robin says does make a lot more sense than the rambling depressing thoughts that he's been playing on repeat since their movie night.

He and Eddie have gotten a lot closer since they escaped from the Upside Down for the last time. Since Steve managed to carry him out of hell and got them to the hospital in time.

And Steve has been trying so hard for months not to expose himself, to show the most vulnerable parts of his heart to someone that could stomp on it as easily as Nancy did.

But Robin has a point.

On the one hand Steve has been protecting himself, and on the other he's also made sure that there would never be a possibility of--

Steve shakes his head, "first of all, I only just figured all of this, Bi-Sectional stuff, out Robin--"

"Bisexual," she sighs as Steve keeps talking.

"Whatever, and second, we have no idea if Eddie swings that way either…I just don't want to take the risk and end up fucking it all up".

Robin stares at him, an unhappy frown marring her normally sweet features. It feels too much like she's evaluating the inside of his mind --though she did always have the uncanny talent of knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"And what would you say if I told you I had a plan?" Robin says slowly, her gaze unwavering still.

Steve meets her eyes for a moment, taking in the smirk and the raised eyebrow. There's a challenge in her expression and Steve knows there's nothing for it but to listen to what she has to say.

"I'm going to regret letting you in today aren't I?" Steve says as he lifts his can towards her own.

Robin answers with a wide grin and knocks her can into his with a metallic click.

"Don't you always? Anyways," she clears her throat and looks at him with a mischievous smirk, lifting her hands into the air and wiggling her fingers, "I'm thinking, are you ready? New Year's Eve!"

"No--"

"New Year's Eve Steve, come on!" She insists as Steve grazes on a stack of chips from the Pringles tube.

"All we need to do is invite everyone over, Eddie included, to Casa Harrington for a little New Years Party," Robin continues, ignoring the eye roll Steve sends her way, "with enough liquid courage you'd have another opportunity to actually talk to Eddie, confess your feelings, and Boom! Maybe even get a midnight kiss out of the whole thing!"

Steve stares at her wide eyes and wider grin, forcing himself to keep his expression blank.

"So, just to be clear," Steve says eventually, around a mouthful of chips. Robin exaggeratedly gags and snatches her own stack from the tube.

"Your plan is for me to host another party and talk to him".

"Well, yeah--"

"...Robin, that's not a plan, that's a repeat of what already happened," Steve groans as he puts down the chips and runs his hands over his face until they've tangled into his hair.

"No, no, nuh uh, because you didn't say jack shit to him all night," she huffs, gently pulling his hands down, "the crucial difference my sweet bozo, is that you are actually going to tell him how you feel this time".

"How am I supposed to do that with my ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend, and everyone else here smart ass," he counters, letting her continue to hold his hands in her own smaller ones.

She rolls her eyes but squeezes his fingers as she continues, "it will be easy to get him alone, come on, you could tell him you want to give him his Christmas present in your room, you could ask him to go for a smoke outside, you could show him the basement stereo and your ridiculous music collection, must I go on while you don't write this down?"

With every suggestion Steve feels a surge of warm affection for his friend and allows for a fond grin to replace the skeptical frown on his face.

"Do I have to do all of those or should I pick one?" Steve asks, lifting his now free hands to protect his face as Robin whips her own at his chest and head.

"How you were ever considered a ladies man, I will never know," Robin says, though the words are rather undercut by a laugh that turns into a giggle as she finds a particularly ticklish rib and begins her assault.

"You are a fucking menace birdie," Steve manages to say as he catches the offending hands and steps away from the counter and his friends attack.

"You love it," she scoffs, stealing another chip and crunching it loudly as though to make her point.

And he does, Steve thinks to himself.

They have five days to figure out the final details, and Steve can't help but move back to the counter to swing an arm around her shoulders.

Because when in doubt, he can always count on Robin.

"Okay, New Years it is".

#afewproblems writes #steve harrington #robin buckley #i missed writing these two so much #platonic soulmates #platonic stobin #holiday steddie #holiday fic #part two christmas wish #robin and steve are chaotic siblings and no one can tell me otherwise #i saw someone asked for a part two and a part three so here we are #feels good to be writing again #the final part of the halloween au is coming along still so hopefully people are also excited for that haha #please support by commenting and reblogging

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terrestrialnoob · 6 months

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To say that Bruce Wayne didn’t like Vlad Masters would be an understatement. Masters refused to treat anyone not obviously rich with any decency, was allergic to admitting he was wrong, used underhanded business tactics to get unconscionably one-sided deals, and kept everything just barely on the side of legal. All on top of having the reputation as one of America’s Most Charitable Billionaires with how much money he gave into rare disease research, that just so happened to also be America’s second biggest tax write-off for one individual. It wasn’t a private feud either. Bruce had gotten, first, in a donation war for who could fund the most charities, which Bruce had thought was in good fun, until it soon became clear that Masters was taking it far too seriously and tried to sabotage a charity event. Bruce wasn’t sure how he did it, but “it was lucky that Batman was there” to get everyone out of the burning building. Bruce then learned just how competitive the man was, and if he didn’t let him win, there’d be more innocent people put into danger.

So, you could imagine his surprise when he got a phone call from a dejected sounding Vlad Masters. “Bruce, it may be hard to believe, but I need your help.”

“With what?” Bruce didn’t want to deal with this man-child’s ego tripping, but he could never refused a cry for help, whether legitimate or a trap.

Vlad sighed loudly into the phone and Bruce thought for a moment he had been hung up on and missed the beep. But after the long pause Vlad said, “Recently, some old college friends of mine died.”

Bruce absorbed that in the shorter pause that followed. First that someone like Vlad had friends, and second, that their deaths meant something to him.

Vlad continued, “Jack had been a rival of mine and I had never forgiven him for marrying the woman I’d loved or – he also caused an accident that had left me hospitalized for months. I still say we were friends because, well, he never stopped trying to be mine despite how horrible I was to him. We had met when he and I were in a horrible punk band, and then I met his friend Maddie and the three of us made – Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble...”

“It’s understandable,” Bruce responded, “But, you said you needed my help? I have a really good grief counselor if that’s something you’d like?”

“Ah no, you see, Jack and Maddie had a son,” Vlad paused, “They had a daughter too, but she was home when their basement laboratory blew up and their entire house collapsed into it. The three of them, as well as three other teenagers, died. Danny was the only one to survive, and he is now in my care.”

“Jesus,” Bruce sighed, “Does he-”

“Before you offer, a bad experience with a school counselor has him sworn off seeing any kind of professional.” Vlad cut in, “And my bad behavior with his parents beforehand has convinced him I’m some kind of evil supervillain who wants world domination or some such nonsense. He wouldn’t trust anyone who’s associated with me in any way.”

Bruce nodded, seeing where this was going, “But you and I are openly rivals.”

Vlad hummed in agreement, “And you unfortunately have firsthand experience with both losing your parents and helping a grieving teen through the same.”

Bruce sighed, he was getting another kid, wasn’t he?

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #batman #bruce wayne #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #fic prompt #original

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stylesharrys · 8 months

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Put It on Me

You’re a little horny and Harry’s the musician of the night.

A/N: the idea of Harry being a small-town musician and doing local gigs with his band is something I love the idea of too fucking much, so this is literally just porn with somewhat of that plot (not really) but yeah. enjoy my angels!

Warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, teasing, swearing, somewhat semi-public sex, protected sex, dirty talk, harry making you watch yourself in the mirror hehe

WC: 2.4k

You’ve needed a night out for ages, the stress of your job and the fading heartache of your ex-boyfriend sitting heavy on your shoulders. You knew your friends were right and meant well when they told you to quit your childish moping and get back on the wagon. And you also knew you should��ve listened to them sooner because now you’re having a wail of a time.

You’ve been at the bar for two hours already and finally beginning to feel the high and surge of confidence from your drinks. You’ve lost count of how many shots and cocktails you’ve had, but you blame that on the brown-haired beauty that’s been singing on stage for the past hour.

Gorgeous brown locks, dazzling green eyes. You can tell how pink his lips are from across the expanse of the bar and in the dim lights that sits overhead, he looks like a fucking Greek god. He can sing, too. A silky-soft voice but he growls certain lyrics of a rock song and your panties have been soaked for the last forty minutes.

You meet eyes halfway through Sex on Fire and you’re sure something erupts in your stomach that’s akin to a burning flame. You’ve learnt his name to be Harry after asking the bartender for it and after the first time of catching sight of you, Harry apparently can’t get enough.

He’s been eye-fucking you all damn night and you’re beginning to grow increasingly impatient. No man has ever had such an effect on you, especially with one look. When his set is over, you buy him a drink, tell the bartender to buy him another of whatever he’s been drinking all night.

Harry disappears for a while after his little gig and you’re thoroughly disappointed to not find him as you lean up on your tiptoes in search. Another three drinks have slid down your throat with ease by the time he makes another appearance and you have gone past the point of fear of rejection.

You came here for a good time, no insecurity is going to ruin that.

He finds you before you find him; swaying your hips deliciously on the dance floor and he chugs the rest of the drink you’d gotten him. He knew it was from you when the bartender said it was from the cute chick with the dark pink lips and mini skirt and he was eager to go and talk to you.

He struggled hiding his semi behind the thin mic stand while he performed and he had to shuffle his hips awkwardly as he danced so as to not thrust his erection in the faces of the partygoers in the front of the dance floor. He’d much rather thrust it in just yours.

Harry makes his way through the crowd to you, a cheeky grin on his lips and he has enough liquid courage to go over and talk to you. You lock eyes when he weaves through your friends and a more than excited smirk glimmers at the corners of your lips.

Finally.

“You get your drink?” You speak first and fuck, his mind is spinning. Your voice drips of pure honey and sex and he wonders what you’d sound like crying his name, begging you for more, for it harder and faster.

Harry blinks, cheeks flushed and not just from the drinks. “I did, thank you…” he pauses, head tilted and it’s the most least-awkward way he can think of to ask you for your name.

You grin. “Y/N,” you tell him your name but you don’t ask for his, you’ll gladly let him know you already know it.

Harry nods, pink tongue swiping to lick across his bottom lip and your eyes are glued to the sinful sight. What else could that tongue do? You don’t bother to chastise yourself for the sinful thoughts of the stranger, instead, you let the idea excite you more and your knees almost buckle.

“And you’re welcome,” you sip on your drink, tongue circling the straw as you gaze up at him through your lashes. He almost has an entire foot on you. “Must’ve been a little thirsty after that performance,” you flirt back, head tilting and you gnaw on your bottom lip.

Harry feels his entire body flush, feels the blood rush to the swollen tip of his aching cock. Before he can say anything, Mitch taps on his shoulder, whispering something incoherent in his ear. Harry isn’t listening, too busy trying to turn around again and talk to you, so he doesn’t feel Mitch slip the little foil wrapper in his back pocket.

When Harry finally pushes Mitch away and spins back around, your drink is gone and your empty hands are up in the air, body moving and head rolling. Your eyes are closed, every inch of you feeling the beat of the music and Harry finds himself gravitating closer to you. His hands find purchase on your hips, his tented crotch pressing against your plump ass as you move against him.

Your head falls against his shoulder, hands reaching around the back of his neck as your fingers tangle in his curls, tugging gently but just enough for him to feel it. Harry’s grip on your waist tightens and he guides the movement of your hips to his and before long you’re swaying and grinding in rhythm, heavy breathing in your ear and you tilt your head, nose bumping his chin.

Harry leans down, connecting those pink lips with yours and everything feels 10 times better. His tongue slides between your parted lips and dances with yours, hands on your waist twisting you so your chest clashes with his. Neither of you hear your friends cheering and spurring you on, too caught up with the taste of the other.

His hands are on your ass, grabbing and squeezing and you’re not dancing anymore. Your fingers are tangled in his hair still, pulling and tugging harder and whimpering into his mouth when he pinches the bottom of your thigh.

When you pull away, your lipstick has smudged across his mouth but neither of you care. Your miniskirt has ridden up, the bottom of your ass hanging from it and you can feel his hardon poking at your abdomen.

With his hand in yours, you wrap his arms around your waist, and lead him off the dance floor with your back pressing to your chest. Harry follows, nipping bites and kisses to your neck and breathing messily in your ear. Your eyes are fluttering but upon seeing the disabled toilets, you shove him inside and lock the door behind you.

Harry stands across from you, chest heaving and panting and you both look thoroughly fucked; hair a mess, lips swollen, eyes intoxicated. You both step closer at the same time and it’s as if your minds are in sync. Your legs wrap around his waist, skirt bunching around your middle and he shoves you against the door as soon as he catches you.

His lips are on yours and your barely clothed pussy grinds against his hardness. Everything is frantic, eager. Harry’s hands are on your ass, yours tugging at his hair again and he suckles your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping as he releases it and assaults down your jaw and neck, sucking bruises on the soft skin and your mind is reeling.

“Fuck, Harry,” you shudder breathlessly and Harry pulses in his pants.

Knew you’d sound so fucking good whimpering his name. One hand leaves your ass and grabs your jaw, tilting your head to the side for better access to your collarbone. You whimper, desperate and eager.

“More, need more. Want your cock,” you pant out.

Harry groans into your neck, nodding his head and he releases your jaw, reaching down between your bodies and his thump swipes up your clothed cunt. To Harry’s utter enjoyment, you’re soaked through; thighs trembling at the well-needed sensation.

“Want my cock, baby? Want me to fuck your tight little pussy?” You whine at his words, eyes rolling and you’ve never been with someone who spoke so filthily and he’s barely touched you. You nod your head frantically, clawing at his scalp and he pulls your little panties to the side, middle finger circling your dripping, puckering hole.

You shudder at the touch, Harry grunting in your ear as he smears your wetness all over your swollen cunt. “Yeah, I need it so bad,” you coax him, hips rolling, legs trembling. He pushes a finger through your folds, curling against that spongy spot and you cry out, a frantic ‘yes, yes, yes’ tumbling past your lips.

He pulls away too soon for your liking and sucks his fingers clean, humming at your taste — but as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a condom, you’re more than happy to let it slide. While your legs are still wrapped around his waist, you unbuckle his belt quickly and unzip his jeans. Your hand reached into his boxers, retrieving his thick, long cock and pumping it generously in your hand, spitting down on it and spreading the wetness.

Harry’s head falls back, grunts and groans ricocheting against the walls of the bathroom and you hum at the delicious sight, reaching forward to suckle at the column of his thick neck and littering small purple bruises to the pale skin.

“God, need to fuck you,” Harry’s deep voice strains and you gnaw on your bottom lip, squeezing his cock and releasing it.

He slides the condom on with ease, slapping his tip against your clit for extra measure and sliding into you in a quick thrust. You gasp and claw at his shoulders, hands grabbing his head and tugging it down to the crook of your neck.

“So fucking tight,” he whimpers, nipping at your collarbone but you’re busy with something else.

Behind Harry stands the sink on a counter and a large mirror behind it. You can see the sweat dotting at your hairline, how each snap of his hips has your jaw slacker each time. There’s something so dirty about watching yourself through pleasure that has you gushing around him.

You don’t realise he’s talking until he pulls his head from your neck and notices you’re staring straight ahead, in a pleasure-filled haze. He follows your line of sight and everything is red. You’re really watching yourself get off.

Harry turns back to you, wrapping his arms back around your ass and pulling you off the wall. You shriek at the sudden movement and let him carry you, spin you both around so you’re by the mirror. He pulls out all too quickly, leaving you gaping and turning you around to look in the mirror.

As quickly as you make eye contact in the reflective glass, he’s bending you over the sink, your hands bracing either side of the counter and he bunches your skirt higher up your middle and tears your little lace panties from your core, shoving them in his pocket. Harry palms at your perky ass, spanking and rubbing. He looks back to the mirror, the sight of his blown eyes and set jaw is too much for your cunt.

You dip your head, almost falling into the sink but Harry isn’t having any of it. The bass from the music thumps outside of the bathroom and muffles the noises of your frantic moans and whines. He thrusts back into you all at once and with one hand, he reaches for your curled hair in a makeshift ponytail and tugs, forcing you to look in the mirror.

Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and jaw slack. You’re a gorgeous fucking mess and Harry’s cock is throbbing between your walls.

“Watch yourself, baby. Watch what my cock does to you,” he seethes through gritted teeth, lips nipping at the shell of your ear. Your pussy convulses around his length, squeezing and clenching as pornographic moans tear through your throat.

Harry reaches around, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit and he eases his hold on your hair, too caught up with how tight you are around his thick cock and your head falls, eyes fixed on the sight of his slender fingers touching your little nub.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna cum!” you shriek, voice high and music to his ears. Harry soon realises you’re not watching yourself and reaches for your jaw, forcing you to look in the mirror.

“Want you to watch yourself cum all over my cock, Princess,” he growls, teeth gritted and hips frantic. You cry out, eyes hooded but you watch, just like he demanded.

Your makeup is ruined but you don’t give a shit. The sight before you is unholy, his fingers gripping your jaw and your lips parted. You look like such a fucking good girl and remembering that it’s a complete stranger that has you feeling this way only pushes you closer to the edge.

In a burst of confidence and desperation, you reach for his hand on your face and guide it down your throat, stretching your fingers around his gentle hold and squeezes. Something even darker than before swims across Harry’s eyes and his pounding becomes relentless, his hold on your throat tightening and your eyes are rolling back.

Everything is heightened and all you can smell and feel and think is him. Your legs begin to tremble, entire body shaking and with a long string of profanities and desperate whines, you come all over his cock, panting and shaking and throbbing. He quickly follows, bottoming out and his hold on your throat releases as he hunches over your smaller frame and comes in the condom, grunts and cries spilling off his pink lips.

You both remain still for a few moments, trying to catch your breath and keep your legs from giving out on you. Harry pulls his softening cock out slowly, allowing you to lean your hands on the sink counter as he removes the condom and shoves it in the bin, cleaning himself and you up gently with some tissue. Your heart flutters at the action… Do one night stands usually do that?

Biting back a grin, his hands on your hips slowly spin you around to him and as you loop your arms around his neck and smile lazily up at him, he reaches down and covers you back up with your skirt, hands resting on your waist. His nose bumps yours, softly pressing open-mouthed kisses to your lips which you’re just as eager to return before he pulls back.

“So... “ he pants, a post-orgasmic grin on his lips. “Can I get your number?”

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