your body clip

Study Se(x)ssion

Author: obrosey-af

Characters: Stiles x reader

Word Count: 1,392

Warnings: smutty smut and stuff

A/N I started this at least two months ago and completely forgot about it so I finally finished it lol enjoy!

“What the hell is he talking about?” Stiles mumbled to himself as he furiously flipped through his economics textbook.

You were in the middle of a review for the exam you had tomorrow and Stiles was freaking out,  to say the least.

“Babe, calm down. You have Lydia’s notes,” you reminded him, soothingly rubbing his arm.

“Yeah, well, someone needs to give me notes on Lydia’s notes because I’m totally screwed and I can’t get below a C on this test,” he stammers, scanning a page of the book as he tugged at his dark brown tresses.

“Come over tonight, we can study together,” you smile.

“Yeah, great idea,” he scoffed, “remember the last time we tried studying together?”

You did, in fact, remember. Quite vividly actually. What started as a boring Friday night of studying quickly turned into loads of making out that lead to much more. Needless to say, no studying got done that night. Ever since then Stiles hasn’t trusted you or himself to be in a room alone with you without being all over each other.

“Stiles, c’mon, I know this is important to you,” you explained, “I really just want to help.”

“Fine,” he said hesitantly, “but no funny business.”

“Promise,” you exclaimed, holding out your pinky. He intertwined it with his and laughed, returning his focus to Coach.

At seven o’clock on the dot, there was a warning knock at the front door before Stiles let himself in. Both of your parents were doctors at Beacon Hills Memorial who were on call most nights, so Stiles sees no need to wait for you to lazily make your way down the stairs to let him in if he doesn’t see your parents cars in the driveway.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called, closing the door behind him.

“Shut up and come up here,” you shouted back, rolling your eyes even though you couldn’t help but smile.

Loud footsteps stomped up the steps resulting in your stud of a boyfriend standing in your doorway.

“There’s my girl,” he sang, walking over to you on your bed and setting a kiss on the top of your head.

“So, I got notes from Lydia and made “Stiles level” notes and I printed some stuff offline in case,” you stated, rummaging through the stack of papers in your lap.

“Ya know, normally I’d be offended by that, but I’m so desperate that I’ll take any help I can get,” he glared, his lips slowing turning up in the corners.

Three hours. Three hours you two had been studying and you’ve only made it halfway through chapter twelve. That leaves a whole other chapter and a half to finish and it’s already ten o’clock. You and Stiles sat side by side against the wall on your bed. Your laps were cluttered with one textbook, three notebooks and countless sheets of extra study materials you found online.

“I’m exhausted,” you announced, shoving a handful of papers in your textbook before shutting.

“Babe, we can’t stop, we’re not done,” Stiles exclaimed in a worried tone.

“Just give me five minutes and we’ll get back to it,” you yawned, standing up from the bed.

You walked the ten feet from your bed to your door a few times and stretched your arms up above your head causing your shirt to ride up a bit. You would’ve had to be blind to not notice Stiles watching your every move. His eyes practically burned a hole in your ass from looking at it as you walked away.

“Okay, I think I’m good.”

You sat back down next to Stiles who placed his textbook on the floor next to him before sliding closer to you. He cupped your cheek in his hand, pulling your face to his. His lips grazed yours and you happily met him the rest of the way.

“Remember what happened last time?” you mocked, mumbling against his lips.

“We can study more after,” he smirked.

“I only took two minutes of our five minutes break.”

“I can do it in three minutes,” he whispered, a low groan sounding in his throat.

“Do what?” you asked, pulling away to look at him.

“Get you to a point where you’re screaming my name.”

If the dampness in your panties wasn’t enough to take Stiles up on his offer, the look on his face and the lust in his eyes sent you over the edge. Without missing a beat, you pushed the remaining papers between the two of you to the floor and swung your leg over his body, straddling his lap. Instead of your lips, he attacked your neck with open mouth kisses, dragging his lips across your shoulder, nudging at the collar of your shirt with his nose. Taking the hint, you crossed your arms at the hem of your shirt and ripped it over your head. Stiles’ made his way down your body, kissing as much of your skin as he could reach. You made haste of undoing the button and zipper on his khakis then pushed away and crawled down towards the end of the bed, pulling his pants along with you. Stiles wiggles his hips to make it easier for you when you reached up and slowly slid his boxers towards you. Stiles wrapped his arms around your body and undid the clips of your bra with ease.

“You’re getting good at that,” you commented out of breath, letting the thin, lace fabric fall down your arms.

“Months and months of practice,” he smirked.

You pushed on Stiles’ legs to help yourself stand up on the bed, your legs still on either side of your boyfriend’s body. He reached up and hooked his index fingers in the waistband of your leggings and stripped them from your body, along with your panties. Stiles scooted his body down the bed until his head was laying on a pillow. You knew exactly where this was going as it’s one of Stiles’ favorite things to do; just one of the many kinks he has. You kneeled down, hovering your aching core above his head. Stiles arched his neck up to meet you halfway and instantly latched onto your clit, sucking furiously. Letting your head fall back in pleasure, your body began to relax and you slowly sat down until Stiles’ head was back on the pillow. Your hands found their way to Stiles’ head and you ran your fingers through his dark brown locks. His tongue kitten licked through your folds and you felt your orgasm begin to take over. Your breaths became shallow and your body started to tremble. You screamed his name as Stiles gently bit down on your clit, sending you completely over the edge. Feeling the warm sensation in your lower region, Stiles lapped up the juices with haste.

“Babe, holy shit.”

“Your turn,” you smirked, peering down into his lust filled eyes.

You jumped up and positioned yourself between his legs. Stiles didn’t  even have a chance to recover from your previous endeavors when you took his length in your mouth, not needing to pump him at all for extra help seeing how hard he already was. You heard his breath hitch in the back of his throat as he pushed his head further down into the pillow, his mouth falling slightly agape. You hollowed out your cheeks to take more of him in and bobbed your head up and down. You paused to give the tip some extra attention before continuing your previous movements and picking up the speed.

“Babygirl, don’t stop.”

You did as you were told and continued taking more and more of him in your mouth until his length was tapping the back of your throat. Without warning, he began to fill your mouth with his salty discharge. You swallowed completely before taking him out of your mouth, careful to not waste a drop. You sat up and flashed Stiles a shit eating grin as he looked at you in complete disbelief. You’re pretty sure you literally took his breath away. You crawled up his body and planted a rough kiss to his lips before standing up to dress yourself.

“What’re you doing? No cuddling?” Stiles asked.

“We still have studying to do Stilinski so put your dick back in your pants and let’s go,” you smirked.

Originally posted by stvlinski

Laser Tag

Summary: Sam, Dean, and the reader are enjoying a day off. The reader convinces them to go play laser tag. With Dean on the other team, Sam and the reader end up in a tight spot, hiding from the eldest Winchester.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Rated: M (Sexual content)

Warnings: Protected sex, public sex, swearing.

Tagging: @supernatural-jackles (*wink* *wink* you said you wanted more Sam)

Sweat ran down your forehead as you rolled hiding behind a wall. You gasped peaking around the corner seeing the men who were following you were gone. You leaned your head against the surface of the wall panting softly. More sweat ran down your face and the back of your neck as you tried to catch your breath. Lights flashed different colors, strobe lights flashed, and the room was filled with smoke filled the room. It was stuffy and hot and your heart was racing.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps brought you back to back to reality. You picked up your gun aiming it up as the person turned around the corner. You aimed, but quickly lowered it seeing who it was. His shaggy brown hair was a mess, you made out his face through the flashing lights and grinned. His lips curled into a smile as he held his hand out to you. Sam Winchester was one of your closest friends, and fellow hunter. The two of you met through mutual hunters. You two along with his brother had been on mutual hunts, and soon enough you were crashing at their bunker.

You took Sam’s hand grinning at the gentle giant. You somehow managed to convince Dean to stop at this laser tag/bowling alley joint. But you were shocked when he pulled in agreeing to your idea. Sam’s laser tag was glowing red matching yours, and currently the elder Winchester was on the hunt for you and his brother sporting a glowing blue vest.

“You okay?” Sam asked panting slightly himself, “Have you seen Dean yet?”

You scoffed looking into his hazel eyes, “More like Dean found me, and somehow he managed to get the blue team to follow him.” You giggled running you hand through your hair, “Seriously Sam he has a whole entourage.”

“Well it is Dean,” he chuckled, “he’s a great shot, I’m not at all surprised people are following his lead.”

“Oh Sammy~” Dean shouted merely feet away from you, “Y/N where are you~?” You and Sam both went stiff as green light began firing at you.

“Crap,” Sam laughed motioning to a corner barely visible in the dark, “Let’s go over there, with the wall behind us we don’t have to worry about someone sneaking up on us. You nodded and took off running, shooting your gun at some unsuspecting blue team members. The crushed ducking for cover as you and Sam managed to hide behind the corner.

The corner itself was extremely cramped, but with Sam squished against you it was an even tighter snug. You huffed as Sam body leaned against your pushing you closer against the corner. You cheeks burned as he finally looked down at you. You bit down on you bottom lip looking at the ground. To say you liked Sam was a understatement. Not only was he extremely good looking, and in fantastic shape, he was also sweet and loving. He was book and computer smart, he was one of the only people who could keep with you when you went jogging. Sam Winchester was your ideal guy, you’d love to get closer to him but you were unsure about how to do so.

For starters you sucked at flirting, you were more of the admire from afar type.  Besides you were hunting with Sam, and starting a relationship would make things complicated. The last thing you needed to do was make the arrangement complicated at all. If feelings came out, you were pretty sure it might affect the way you hunted. You’d more than likely be more concerned about covering Sam even though he didn’t need it, and in a result it would probably make your moves sloppy. And being a hunter meant you needed to have a clear mind so you could focus at the task at hand.

So you’d just continue to hide your feeling for now.

“Sammy, Y/N you can’t hide forever!” Dean chuckled, you could practically see the smug smile on his face.

“H-He’s really into this isn’t he?” You whispered, Sam shifting slightly. Due to the height difference your head was currently shoved into his chest. You were hit with a musky and woody smell. You smiled softly, not minding him pressing against you closer. You inhaled softly taking in his scent, God it reminded you of fall. It was like several different spices all together it was Sam’s scent and you loved it.

“Yeah, he really is enjoying this.” you inhaled more as Sam pressed into you closer shifting slightly, causing you to hum happily. “Huh, oh crap.” Sam reached between your bodies, lifting your chin up to  look at him. “Sorry about that, are you okay?”

You stared at him, He looked back at you swallowing hard as he clenched his jaw tight. You smiled softly nodding as he shift again. You swallowed as his elbow brushed against the curve of your breast as he tried to find a more comfortable position for the two of you. You stared at your friend, his cheeks were slightly flushed as he stared at the wall behind you. The two of you stood like that for a minute before Sam shifted again.

“Sorry I just don’t want to suffocate you,” he whispered softly, a seductive tone in his voice, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mhmm, I’m perfect right now, just like this.” His body tensed as he stared into y/e/c eyes, he sucked in a breath. His arms slide down the top of your shoulders resting on you upper arm.

“Fuck it.” He growled slamming his lips on yours, your eyes widened but slowly closed as you kissed back. It started off slow and sweet, his lips slowly grazing against yours. His thumbs gently rubbed your bicep as your lips moved together. He slowly pulled away, you opened your eyes looking into his. He didn’t say anything, but from the look in his eyes it was as if he was asking if it was okay.

“Sam,” you whispered standing on your tiptoes kissing him, giving him the okay to continue. His hands reached down farther grabbing you by the wrists pulling them above your head pinning them there with one hand. His mouth moved against yours, taking your bottom lip between his lips nibbling it softly. You opened your mouth allowing his tongue access. His tongue slid between your lips and began exploring your mouth with it. You whimpered softly, his tongue massaging yours, causing moans to slip out of our mouth.

His knee pushed your legs apart, resting there between your legs. You moaned loudly slowly rocking your hips against his legs, desperate for some sort of friction. Sam took the hint, releasing your wrists from his grasps. His hands slowly trailed down the sides k\of your body, His thumbs grazing the curve to breasts, his hands move down the curve of your body. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your hands gripping his hair as you deepened the kiss. His hands gripped both sides of your hips rocking them against his denim covered leg, giving you the friction you desired.

Things were getting more and more intense between the two of you. You bodies moved and rocked against each other. His fingers dug into your hips, so hard you were pretty sure they were going to leave bruises, but you didn’t give a damn. Heat was pooling between your legs, Sam’s clothed erection was pressing into your thigh.  

“Sam,” you panted as he finally pulled away. He moved his hands up the curve of your body finding the clips to you vest.

“What do you say we get you out of this?” He growled in your ear, clips suddenly snapping as he unclipped it. You pulled away giving him room to remove the vest off of you. He dropped it on the ground, giving you just enough time to remove his.

Once he was free of the damn vest, his hands trailed up your shirt, finally reaching your breasts. You gasped, arching into his touch as he squeezed both your breasts in his large hands. You tilted you head back, allowing Sam to trail hot open mouthed kissed along your jaw and down your neck. All the while his hands kneaded at your breasts.  

It was a hundred times hotter, Sam’s hands and mouth were on you. You were soaking wet, and you were desperate to feel him. You reached between your bodies and palmed his erection through his jeans, He growed against your neck gently biting it, causing you to gasp and squeeze him.

“Fuck Y/N,” he whispered lifting you up by your ass, “you’re making it hard to control myself.” he groaned rocking against you softly, his erection pressing against you clothed center.

“I-I don’t want you to control yourself Sam,” you gasped reaching down the side of the corner, gripping a handle that was digging into your side before, “I want you to lose control, I need you.” you yanked it and the two of you stumbled into a little storage closet.

Once inside Sam kicked the door shut with his foot and slammed you into the wall. You winced slightly slamming your lips on his, shoving your tongue in his mouth as he unbuttoned your jeans, sliding his hand inside it. You gasped in his mouth as his finger began rubbing fast hard circle around your clit. You bucked your hips into his chest as he slid his hand further down shoving two fingers inside of you. Sliding your hands down his well built chest, you returned the favor unbuttoning his jeans, sliding your hand inside stroking his cock. Sam pulled away from your mouth gasping softly, resting his forehead against your moaning slightly, thrusting into your hand. The two of you moaned softly against each others mouths as you both worked each other.

“Y/N,” Sam whispered, your name coming out of his mouth, “God that feels so good.” You cheeks were burning as you grabbed his wrist pulling it out of your jeans. He slowly opened his lust filled eyes watching as you began pushing your jeans down.

“I need you Sam, you have no idea how bad I need you.” You whispered, he stared at you and opened his mouth to say something. You chuckled placing your pointer finger over his lips, “If I wasn’t sure about this I wouldn’t be pulling my jeans down right now would I?” He watched your before nodding, placing your on the ground just long enough to rid of of your jeans and pink lace panties.

You leaned against the wall watching Sam pull his wallet out. You swallowed hard as he took a condom out opening it up with his teeth. You pulled his jeans and boxers down slightly just below his ass. His erection sprung free, and he quickly rolled the condom on.

“Y/N,” he whispered, lifting you up pinning you against the wall, “Y/N you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this. Are you sure?” He asked his erection pressing ever so slightly against your opening, “If you want to stop we ca-” You grabbed a handful of his hair tugging it so he could stare at you.

“Sam Winchester shut up and fuck me.” You slammed your lips on his. He moaned into your mouth sliding inside of you. You gasped into his mouth as his cock filled you, stretching your pussy. God he felt a hundred times better than you imagined. “Sam,” You gasped throwing your head back closing your eyes as he began to thrust.

Sam moaned resting his head in the crook of your neck as he thrusted inside of you. He groaned nipping and sucking as the sensitive skin as his cock moved in and out of you. You whimpered rocking your hips slightly to meet his thrusts, trying to find the perfect rhythm.He gripped your hips holding them still.

“Y/N you told me to fuck you remember?” He growed nipping at your earlobe. He thrusted deeper causing you to gasp in pleasure, “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He reached up grabbing a handful of your tugging on it.

Sam made sure you didn’t move at all, he did all the work. His hands remained on your hips holding them in place. He thrusted deep and fast inside of you. His cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust. His lips slammed against your every time you start moaning loudly, overwhelmed by the pleasure flooding your body. Your hands gripped and tugged at his hair as he thrusted faster in and out of you. His movements and the thrill that you could be caught brought you closer and closer to your orgasam.

All that you could hear in the small closet was Sam’s grunts and growls of pleasure. You managed to whisper things such as “right there”, “faster”, and “Sam”. You felt a familiar burning and tightening in your lower abdomen. You were close to your orgasam and Sam could tell from the way you were clamping down on him.

“That’s right,” he whispered, “come for me Y/N come for me.” You inhaled sharply as he slid his hand between your bodies rubbing your clit. With each stroke of his fingers along your bundle of nerves, you could hear the muffled countdown of the robotic voice beyond the walls continuing down.

“Five,” You wrapped your legs tighter against Sam’s waist, “four,” gasping you dug your nails into Sam’s back, “three,” Sam pressed down on your clit rubbing faster, “two,” you slammed your head back as he thrusted against your g-spot while rubbing your clit, “one.”

“SAM” You screamed as you came, hard your vision going white as the buzzer rang in the next room. Sam grunted and thrusted once more slamming into you, growling as he came. The two of you panted, leaning against the wall. Sam pulled his head back grinning at you, kissing your lips gently slowly placing you on the floor. You kissed back gently, quickly gathering you clothes, sliding your jeans on, while Sam tossed the condom in a trash can.

“Sam, Y/N!” You pinked your panties up as Sam pulled and buckled his pants up, “Come on you two I need a beer!” Dean yelled somewhere from behind the obstacle course. Sam grabbed your hands intertwining your fingers placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Let’s get out of here shall we?” You slipped your panties in Sam’s back pocket of his jeans. His lips curled into a smile as he stared down at you opening the door. You giggled as he reached down cupping your ass shutting the door just as Dean came around the corner.

“There you are!” He crossed his arms holding his vest and gun in hand, “What’s your score?”

“Uh,” Sam looked at his gun and chuckled, “I got zero man, Y/N got three hundred.”

“Hell yeah!” Dean fit pumped the air turning towards the exit, “I’m the winner, again. Maybe one day you’ll be a winner Sammy.” Dean waved his hand at the two of you as you and Sam followed behind, still holding hands.

“I am a winner.” Sam grinned down at you leaning down placing a kiss on your lips. You kissed back smiling shyly as the three of you headed towards the bar area. You and Sam were definitely both winners.

anonymous asked:

Leon witnessing his s/o being critically injured

(Want to change the name? Use this!

The battle had begun hours ago, and you were still fighting. Soldiers dropped on either side of the battlefield, the raging war harsh and cruel. It was all you could do to protect your family. Forrest, Leo and Kana fought alongside you, your littlest son happy to tear down ruthless soldiers with you.

“Kana, stay focused!” You shout over the throngs of battle, mages having surrounded your family a touch more than you were comfortable with. Kana struck out whenever you fell back, matching you blow for blow. Whatever training they did in the dimension he was raised in, it was pretty darn amazing.

“Yes, Mother!” He replied in a sweet tone that he always used with you, no matter the situation. Leo yanked you behind him, suddenly, helping you evade the blast of a mage you  hadn’t quite seen.

“Same goes for you.” Leo muttered, Brunhilde decimating the soldier who dare attack you. You nod your thanks before returning to Kana’s side, helping him take down one man after another. Leo glanced over at your fighting, wondering whether or not he should help.

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Drunk Texting - Sebastian Stan x Reader

obsessedwithfandoms-us said to rogerthat-bucky: Could you do a prompt with Sebastian Stan based on 23 and 4 please? Love all your writing by the way!! Hope you get better soon!!

23. “Go then, leave! See if I care!” & 4. “I had to see you again.”

You felt cold.

And it wasn’t just the way your skin felt, it was deeper than that; it felt almost like a frost had settled upon your heart and it was all because of a singular piece of paper. This paper was being held tightly in your two hands as you awaited your boyfriend’s arrival home, just sitting on the couch with a single lamp lighting up the room.

It is midnight when he returns home, several hours after he left to go out for a meal with some of his other friends.

Sebastian reached the door and he seemed to fumble for a while before he finally got the door unlocked. He took off his coat and shoes, putting the jacket onto the hook and the shoes on the designated shelf. Then he turned around and practically jumped three feet in the air when he saw you.

“Well hello there,” he giggled, clutching his chest as though that would calm his racing heart. You were happy to find that Sebastian hadn’t gotten himself overly drunk, meaning he’d have a somewhat sober and sane mind during the argument about to come.

He made his way over to greet you as he always would do, leaning down to press a kiss on your lips. But rather than happily joining in with the kiss, you pushed him away harshly. “Oh, now you want to spend time with me?” You hissed.

The chill that had coursed through your body had transformed into hot rage. Perhaps if you hadn’t just sat in the lonely darkness, over think what that paper meant for yours and Sebastian’s relationship.

Sebastian was obviously confused as to why you were acting in such a way when before he left you’d seemed fine, promising that you’d be awake when he got back. “What’s wrong with you?2 He asked, his words coming out much more snarky than he’d intended. An effect of the alcohol he’d consumed no doubt. This was an obvious sign that he was much drunker than you’d first thought, but your anger made you ignore it.

You didn’t bother to speak, instead you pushed the rectangular paper into his hand, stood up, and walked to the other side of the room because you couldn’t handle being so close to him whilst feeling so angry.

The paper is warm in his hand, obviously you’d been holding onto it for quite a while. “My plane ticket, what’s that got to do anything?”

“Look at the date, Sebastian.” You ordered, your gaze not wandering once as you stared daggers at him.

Again he just looked at you, his confused feeling not yet leaving him. He didn’t even need to look at the ticket to know the date printed on it. “Yeah, I’m leaving tomorrow so what-” He was about to continue ranting when his expression fell, “Shit, I forgot to tell you.”

You then released a boisterous laugh, the kind of insane chuckle that would be found only in the insane asylums seen in horror movies. “Yes, you did!” You continued, speaking through the giggles, “so, not only did you not tell me that tonight would be our last night together. But you also spent it with your friends.” This entire time Sebastian looked to the floor whilst biting his up, he knew that he’d fucked up. “You could have invited me out with you, or had your day with them yesterday night when all we were doing was watching netflix.”

“Y/N,” he sighed, trying to interrupt you but you still had a rant left in you.

“Or maybe you could have come home earlier. But none of that matters because you didn’t tell me. You didn’t fu-”

“Y/N!” This time he yelled and it stopped you completely. Sebastian was never violent, he resented the very idea of it when it came to how people used it towards their significant others. Which is why whenever he did yell, you knew it was very serious. Once he sees that you’ve actually listened to him he released an angry breath, “I’m sorry that I forgot to tell you. I’d packed my schedule up so much that when they told me yesterday that I needed to go, I completely forgot to tell you. I was so distracted.” His explanation didn’t do anything to calm you. It had been a mistake, a dumb mistake that could easily have been resolved if he’d just been smarter. Sebastian only made it worse when he said the following: “Besides, why does it even matter, I didn’t think you were the type of girl who needed the boyfriend to spend every waking second with her.”

Your hands clenched into two tight fists on either side of your body. “I’m not,” you clipped, defending yourself. “But I am the type of girl that likes to know her boyfriend actually wants her around. Just put yourself in my place Sebastian, what would you do if I came back from long trips and spent all my free time with everyone but you?”

His reaction to your plea was a scoff, “I can’t listen to you any more, I’ve got to get out of here!”

“What?” The word fell out of your mouth pathetically.

Whilst sat staring at the piece of paper you had imagined every way this argument could possibly go; what you hadn’t expected, was for him to walk out on you.

He wandered back over towards the door, putting back on his jackets and shoes. “You’re basically saying that you don’t believe I love you anymore.”

You’re eyebrows rose, “that’s not what I’m saying at all, what I’m saying is that I want you to actually spend time with me when you’re home.” Sebastian didn’t respond, instead he seemed to be giving you the silent treatment.

Even though you knew he was drunk and therefore acting in ways that he normally wouldn’t but still you found yourself feeling very angry. You were touchy from sitting and dwelling in your anger, and he was the same because he’d drunk so much alcohol. And that’s what led you to snap at him so harshly.

“Go then, leave! See if I care!” You instantly regretted what you said, even Sebastian had to pause and look at you like a hurt puppy. And he was, this was something he had never had you say to him. Neither you nor Sebastian would ever even say ‘I hate you’, not even jokingly. Because you both respect that certain words had power; and what you said to him then held a lot of power.

“Fine.” He snapped, proceeding to glare at you before leaving.

You cried a lot after that. You stood in the same spot and silently let tears fall from your eyes. You angrily wiped them away and then went to turn the lights off, somehow you managed to keep your emotions bottled up until you entered your bedroom. You saw Sebastian’s overwhelming fear that he’d never come back, and that fear broke you.

Your knees collapsed beneath you and you clutched your hands against your heart, trying to calm the heaving sobs that escaped you. You loved him so much and nothing was worth losing him over, and now you could possibly have made him have you because you said such horrible things.

You cried loudly, then you cried softly, then you cried quietly, then you slept.

When you awoke you felt gross and very much like you needed a shower. But the sadness that filled you made it hard, it felt almost like there were weights keeping you from moving. You did eventually reach out for your phone to try and keep your mind distracted, but what you found surprised you.

In front of the lock screen image of you and Sebastian smiling side-by-side, was a notification saying you had nine messages, all from Sebastian:

1:06am - Are you okay?

1:06am - Just so you’re not worrying, I went to a hotel. I’m not wandering the streets drunk.

1:09am - God, I hate it when we fight. Can we just apologise to one another and move on? I love you too much to not be with you.

1:10am - I know I was an arsehole. I know and I’m so sorry and I love you soooooo much and this bed is really cold without you beside me.

1:11am - I may have had more drinks when I got to the hotel, so I apologise for whatever I say next but yeah I’m dwunk

1:13am - I’m guessing you’re asleep, I hope so, sleep is good. I should try and sleep

2:29am - I miss how you always have this little smile on your face in your sleep. I miss the light snores that are barely audible (I swear). I miss how much you move around in your sleep. I just miss you. Have I mentioned how much I hate it when we argue?

3:01am - I don’t care anymore. I messaged my manager and told them to cancel my interview tomorrow. I want you. I’m coming home!

4:00am - I’ve left my keys at the hotel, please answer the door

The time when you look at your phone was 10:35am, and the panic set in and your care for Sebastian lifted those weights so you could throw the covers off your body and run downstairs.

A part of you hoped that Sebastian wasn’t stupid enough to just sit outside all night waiting for you to answer the door. But then you had to take in the fact that Sebastian had been far drunker by the time he’d made it to your home.

Timidly, you pulled open the door and looked through the thin opening. And low and behold there he was, cuddled up into a ball, sleeping soundly away.

“Sebastian,” you cried, flinging open the door and kneeling beside him. “You idiot,” you hissed as he finally returned to consciousness.

He was freezing cold beneath your touch and so you rushed to lift him onto his feet and get him inside. It was nearing the end of summer and entering autumn so the nights were becoming longer and colder.

“Uh… what?” Sebastian was still trying to remember everything that had transpired whilst you were panicking and pushing im into the house where you planned to give him a blanket and a warm cup of coffee. You noticed he kept putting his hand against his head so whilst you were making the coffee you handed him a bottle of water and some drugs for his headache. “Thank you.”

“What the hell were you thinking last night?” You were trying to remain angry towards him though it was quite difficult.

He looked up at you through his lashes, “I had to see you again.” You wanted to scream at him, because when he said stuff like that you felt immense love for him. “I couldn’t just leave like that after an argument, cause, you know, I love you.”

You rolled your eyes and then rushed over towards him, grabbed his head, and kissed him. The kiss only lasted three seconds before you pulled back. “God, you’re cold.”

A small smile lifted up the side of his lips. “You are worth it,” he shrugged.

anonymous asked:

Maybe do one where they start putting together and decorating the nursery?x

I changed up the prompt a little bit, but, this is a sort of straight-up addition to the previous part posted in the Pregnancy Series - the part after this will be a direct part to the series where they start to decorate the nursery together. x

Pregnancy Series #14 - The Nursery.

(Word count - 6k+ words)

* 5 and a half months *

“Where do you want to head off to first? The shops, obviously. But, where too?” Harry wondered, as you climbed back into the car and settled in the front passenger seat for the third time that morning. 

Once you’d arrived home after travelling the almost 40 minutes back from the service station, after catching the sun-rising at dawn, you’d both refreshed and dressed in clothes that were appropriate to walk around the shops in, walking down busy streets and being noticed more than a few times by fans who recognised the both of you. 

Clothes were set out and neatly folded on the bed with shoes brought out of the wardrobe that were comfortable enough to walk in; a button-up and white jeans for Harry with brown suede boots waiting at the foot of the bed, with a pair of your white converse trainers that would compliment a flowing skirt and white tank-top paired with his pink and white spotted shirt that you’d taken a sudden adoration towards. 

A shower was shared after you’d helped one another strip down from the comfy clothing worn in the early hours of the morning, a heap of cotton and mixed colours pooling at your feet as both nude bodies stumbled into the bathroom and stood beneath falling water from the shower head. Hair wet and bodies shining beneath the bright light on the bathroom ceiling, soft touches being exchanged, his palms reaching round and rubbing over the prominent curve of your moving bump. Kicks and nudges being given to the warmth emitting from his touch; warmth that his daughter could detect and decipher as her father, her daddy, a parent she’d love with her entirety as soon as she graced your lives.

With fresh bodies and clean – and appropriate – clothes adorning your figures and after numerous mugs of tea had been consumed, you were both ready to set back out into the warm weather with your heads set in focusing on your baby and just your baby for the day. Money that was in both bank accounts and a joint account that was going to be spent fondly on furniture and paint and nursery accessories that would decorate a room and make it as homely as possible for a baby you’d nurture into a wonderful little girl.

Being almost 6 months pregnant and being a little over halfway into the second trimester of your first pregnancy, you had found it necessary to begin preparing the house. Decorating and baby-proofing some areas in each room to brace yourselves with the new experience of being new-to-the-scene parents and having a new baby blessing your lives and turning the page to construct the next chapter of yours and Harry’s book; a metaphorical book on your life, of course. 

“We can go to Homebase and look at the paint and get a couple of cans, then, I can paint the walls later today.”

“Doesn’t Homebase do baby furniture? Can’t we just look around there and see if we find anything that will fit the nursery?” You mumbled, reaching around and pulling the seatbelt around your body and clipping it into it’s place. “Not that I mind looking around baby stores and registering stuff to buy for baby Styles, but, we’ll end up buying stuff that we don’t need yet.” 

You weren’t aiming that towards anybody, but, deep down you knew that Harry would find something that he could see dressing his little girl in; whether they were jeans, a t-shirt that would make her look like ‘the most fashionable celebrity baby since North West’, as well as baby-grows and bibs that were patterned with words like Daddy’s Girl or I Love Daddy across the chest in pink cotton and cursive sewn words. 

You could imagine his search history on both his laptop and phone to be a variety of online shopping websites that sold baby clothes. Designer websites, baby websites or opened links that his sister had sent to him when she was bored at work and finding outfits and toys and little somethings that her niece – or nephew; to her, and to his and your families, they were unaware as to what gender the newest family member was going to be – would be spoilt with.

However, you couldn’t say you were any different. 

Nights on end since you’d be told the gender of the baby taking home in your belly, you’d been thinking about and searching for clothes and pretty pattered baby-grows that would make her look as scrummy as possible. Patterns that were very Harry-esque. Patterns that you could see matching with specific pieces of clothing that Harry would wear when it came to family dinners with his parents or your parents, or, family parties where everyone would gush over just how adorable she really was.

“Can’t ever have to many clothes. Baby Styles is going to be spoilt rotten with designer brands and everything,” Harry grinned, setting the car in reverse and backing out of the driveway, “I may have already been looking at baby clothes that match my button ups from Saint Laurent. Oh, and I found some pretty adorable boots that she can wear that match my suede ones,” he admitted excitedly.

“We don’t need to look for clothes yet, Peaches. She’ll live in baby-grows and little knitted socks before we dress her up to match your outfits,” you stated, looking across the console and seeing his concentrated face looking out the rear-view mirror, making sure he didn’t knock into a flower pot lining the driveway or crashing the bumper into the brick wall as he backed the Range Rover onto the road. “I love that you’re getting so excited about dressing her up like you, but, she’s going to be too small to wear anything like button-ups or jeans for the first few months, Peaches.”

Small enough to fit in the palm of one of his large hands. Delicate and fragile and swaddled tightly in the crook of his arm, her body looking tiny and petite.

“I know. Jus’ preparing for the future,” he admitted, truthfully.

In a little under 3 months, he’d be a father.

Not just a singer, nor song-writer, nor an new actor, nor a raconteur.

But a daddy, as well.

A daddy to a little girl that needed his full attention and needed his love. An important role in a little girl’s life as she grew up into a healthy young being, in a family filled to the brim with respect and intimacy and tenderness that moulded her into the bright young girl sweeping people off their feet and stealing and breaking their hearts.

He didn’t want her to lack in what she needed as a baby – babygrows, socks, her first set of trainers, nappies and bottles, and bath soaps that made her stay smelling like a baby and keeping that distinct new baby smell on her body; a smell he’d become some fond of inhaling after holding and snuggling with many babies in his past life, and really, he couldn’t wait to have that smell filling his home for him to have sudden wafts of each time he lifted her to his chest and had her snuggle into his chest. 

And he didn’t want her missing out on what she wanted as she grew up into a teenager – fancy and adored clothes that caught her eye in the shops, fancy-smelling bath soaps and shampoos that left the bathroom with a sweet and vanilla aroma hanging around in the atmosphere, and bath bombs that would be divided equally between yourself and her when both needed relaxing. 

All he wanted was to show his love by spoiling her because she was his daughter and, to him, she deserved the world.

“We have plenty of time to prepare, Peaches,” you cooed, “I promise. Three more months. We don’t need to worry about clothing and getting them the latest designer outfits or shoes or accessories until they’re old enough to wear them, okay?”

He gave you a soft nod before swiftly changing his attention from the rear-view mirror to the road in front, the car travelling slowly down the white-marked tarmac and passing parked cars that awaited a start-up at ten in the morning. A comfortable silence filled void between the two of you as the only sound that could be heard inside the car was the tyres rolling down the road, bumping over stones and pot-holes made after years the street wearing away. 

“Mum text me the other day,” Harry broke the silence with soft words, “wondered if we wanted to pop down to Chapel and see all the family this weekend. Grandad’s a bit excited to see us both and he’s been asking about you and the pregnancy and everythin’. I told her that I’d check with you to see if you were up for it before I gave her a definite answer.”

“Sounds like a sweet idea. I presume it’s for Sunday dinner as well as seeing family?” You hummed, your head turning towards the window as you watched the trees and the houses pass by in soft blurs. “I quite fancy a nice roast dinner now. I love her chicken.”

In the 6 years that you’d known and loved and bonded with his family, you’d had your fair share of Sunday dinners with the Styles and Twist family.

The first time you’d ever had a Sunday dinner cooked by Anne was the first time he’d taken you back to meet his family. Speaking so fondly of you over the phone and texting his mother each day to keep her updated, she was eager to meet you, and so was Robin; if Harry was so fond of you and felt the need to keep his mother updated on a daily basis on a relationship that had only been blossoming for less than a few months, then, to his mother and his stepfather as well his father collectively, it meant that you were special.

You’d taken the train from London with Harry because he was longing to show you the countryside leading you into the hustle and bustle city life of Manchester, catching a taxi at the other end in which he spent the entirety of the journey calming your nerves and promising you that everything was going to be okay.

- -

“What if I’m not what they expected, Harry? I’m not exactly deemed perfect to date someone like you,” you muttered, your head tilted down to your chest as you looked to the hanging loose string from your bag, “you’re so amazing and you’re humble and lovely and gorgeous and I’m nothing compared to you. What if they expect someone who’s in a stable job and earns money for themselves and isn’t feeding off of their partner’s bank account? What if I’m weird and act odd in front of them? Oh my god, what if I trip and embarrass myself or drop dinner down my outfit? Harry, I-” 

A finger was pressed to your lips as you looked towards him, your eyes wide and panic filled.

“Stop worrying. They love you already and they’ve never met you,” Harry chuckled, “I spoke to mum just yesterday when I dropped you off at work and she’s so excited to meet you and bond with you and talk to you, possibly about me as a baby and embarrassing me like mad.” 

“I already embarrass you,” you mumbled against his finger.

“You do not, you silly goose. We’ve been together for a few months and it’s time I introduced you to my mum and my stepfather. You’ve met Gemma already, but, we won’t go into that again,” he chuckled, “because that really was embarrassing. Just, stop worrying, okay? Mum’s been so excited. Even made your favourite dessert.”

“Banoffee pie?” 

“She googled a recipe and found a decent one. She sent me a photo and it looks delicious,” he admitted, dropping his finger from your mouth and smiling, “do not worry. My family will adore you. Just like I adore you.”

A blush painted your cheeks.

“God, I adore you too, Harry Edward.”

- - 

The second time you’d ever had a Sunday dinner cooked by Anne was Christmas in 2014, when you were a little over 2 years into your relationship with Harry. After a subtle drop of the question in his bed, moments after you’d rolled off of his sweating body and fell lax and naked against the mattress, you couldn’t turn down the opportunity of spending such a beloved holiday with a man and a family of which you loved just as much.

With the frosty countryside passing by the warm car with swaddled bodies in jumpers and scarves and hats and gloves, you and Harry were well underway on your car journey towards Holmes Chapel. A few phone calls passing through from the boys to wish one another a Merry Christmas, and, your text tone sounding around the car that was humming out soft Christmas tunes from the radio, text messages coming through from your parents and your family to wish good holiday and a confirmation that they’d see you in London for New Years.

- - 

“Merry Christmas!” Anne called out as she heard the front door open and close, a gust of wind catching in the doorway and wafting into the warm house smelling strongly of eggnog, cinnamon and a strong aroma of marinated chicken ready for the day tomorrow. “Harry, Robin’s in the garden collecting some firewood. Feel free to go out and help me. Gemma’s here now and (Y/N) can come and help with dessert,” she suggested, your bags dropping to the floor followed by the sack of presents resting against the table.

With booted feet yet beanies still on heads, you and Harry made your way into the kitchen, being instantly hit with the strong smell of cooking food and cinnamon sticks.

“Anne, it smells so good in here,” you praised, a smile on your lips as the elder lady engulfed you into a hug, “I’ve been so excited to have this Christmas dinner, you know? You cook a right lovely roast dinner. You’ll have to give me a recipe or some tips so I can take them back to London and make a roast for Harry when we have the opportunity.”

“Y’ don’t need too, baby. I can spoil you every Sunday and give you the afternoon off cooking,” he cooed, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to his jumper clad chest, his fingers swiping for a strawberry from the counter, earning a swat from Gemma, “looked invitin’, Gem. You’re cutting them up nicely and I had to snag one.”

“You’re annoying, Harold,” she grumbled, a giggle leaving your mouth as he gave your cheek a strawberry tasting kiss, “go and drop a log on your foot.”

- -

The third time you’d ever had a Sunday dinner cooked by Anne was the year you got married, Christmas in the December 2017. 

As a tradition to be started, Anne had suggested that your parents travelled down with you and Harry and they had a dinner that brought the whole family together. Opening presents and drinking hot chocolates into the late hours of Christmas Day Eve as you reminisced about past Christmases as both sets of parents exchanged stories about yourself or Harry, pink cheeks being the response and laughter being exchanged.

- -

“We were in (Y/N)’s grandma’s house one Christmas Day and everyone was round, and we’d just had a stunning Christmas dinner cooked by herself and my sisters. And she was around 4 or 5 and my nephew, (Y/N) older cousin, had left a bottle of coke on the floor where he was sat,” your mother laughed, “and of course, at a young age, they’re very curious and (Y/N) here had picked up the bottle and taken a nice big gulp down, and we had no idea until her cousin had complained that the rim was wet and slobbery.” 

“No way?” Anne laughed over the rim of her mug, the strong smell of eggnog wafting through her nose, “what happened?” 

“She didn’t go to sleep until 3 in the morning, and, (Y/N)’s dad here,” your mother grinned, patting her husbands thigh, “stayed up the entire night until she zonked out. He slept through breakfast and missed the afternoon drinks with the males.” 

“The funny thing is, she can’t have coke now after 8 because she ends up staying awake the whole night and she gets cranky the next morning when nothing goes right,” Harry chuckled, your body leaning against his side with an arm thrown over your shoulders, “have to bribe her with water before we go to sleep.” 

As the laughter died down between the families and you all fell relaxed into seats with full bellies on the roast dinner consumed just a few hours ago, it was evident that you were all tired and exhausted and ready to call it a night.

“Can you believe this time next year, we might have another little member to the family?” Anne cooed, reaching across and squeezing your knee, Robin’s arm holding her waist as she neared the edge of the sofa. “A little baby Styles, hm? Have you been thinking about the next step?” 

“Honestly, no,” you mumbled nervously, looking up at Harry as he gave you a wink, “but, we might give you all a surprise and get pregnant before Christmas.”

“It’ll be great to have a new member to spoil with presents. We never know what to buy for you two anymore. It’s resounded in buying perfume for you and underpants for Harry. Not that he’s complained about receiving them,” your mother laughed, your fathers deep chuckle drowning her speech out, “hurry up and have babies, okay? I need a little one to spoil.”

- -

“Mum does make the best roast dinner,” Harry chuckled, “she said we could stay the weekend, and, do whatever we wanted round Cheshire to see everyone. I think Alice is curious to know how you’re doing and she’s got a couple of things to give to us for the baby.”

“Have you told them what we’re having or have you kept it a secret? It’s been a couple of weeks now since we’ve known we’re having a girl,” you stated, “I think we should maybe tell people what we’re having, don’t you think? Maybe tell your family this weekend, see my parents or get them round ours for afternoon tea this afternoon and tell them, and then we can tell Twitter when all of our families know.” 

“That sounds wonderful, Gorgeous,” Harry grinned, reaching a hand across the console and squeezing your hand in his, “I haven’t seen your mum and dad in ages. It’ll be nice to see them today,” he added, “If they’re free, of course. We can always pop round when we’re done in the shops? See if they’re at home.”

You gave him a nod and looked down to your linked hands, your fingers toying with his as he continued to drive down the road, accelerating to engine as he neared the busy city streets taking you both towards the Homebase located on the outskirts of the London. 


He hummed in response, looking across the console and looking to you with a warm smile.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get anyone in to help us build the nursery? I can’t exactly help you lift anything heavy because I’ve already go an important job of opening my womb to our baby and you haven’t exactly got the best back in the world to carry anything heavy,” you reasoned, twisting the wedding band on his ring finger, the gold metal cool beneath your warm fingertips, “I jus’ don’t want you to have a bad back when I need you to help me.”

You weren’t exactly the tallest person and you required a person of reasonable height – or a chair – to help you reach up into a cupboard or up on a shelf to get something you desired. With Harry being on hand and there in the house, and upon hearing your grunts of struggle, he was there behind you in an instant. Cupping your hips in his hand and reaching up without one little tiptoe and struggle, you’d reward him with a kiss and a cuddle. 

You needed him more than ever now with a bump at your hips and the lack of movements allowed for you to endue, and with a bad back and aching muscles, he couldn’t do much for you. 

A back massage would never suffice but a trip to the osteopath would.

“I’ll be fine. F’we get everything put in the nursery as soon as we busy it, we won’t have to carry anything up the stairs,” he explained, flicking the indication switch and turning off of the motorway, “if I need someone, I’ll call Niall. He’s good at the handiwork and DIY stuff so he can help if we need someone urgently. Don’t worry.” 

“M’goin’ to worry about you, Harry. You have a bad back. It’s only going to get worse when you get older, especially when you have a baby to lug around and hold and bend over to pick up from the cot,” you reasoned, his hand snaking from yours as he changed gear of the car, “you’ll be leaning over a lot more and that always hurts your back and I can’t exactly drive you to the hospital in my state because we’re both too scared of road accidents happening.”

“I promise, I’ll be okay, Gorgeous. Don’t you worry,” he smiled.

* *

The both of you were surrounded by shelves and shelves holding different shades of paint, your eyes darting around the different tins from different brands, your mind internally debating what shade and what brand would be best suited for the nursery. Harry’s palm was flat on your back, his free hand brought to his face as he pinched his bottom lip between his fore finger and thumb, his eyes focused on the yellow shades of paint that he felt would be the perfect choice to paint at least three of the walls in the nursery with – in his mind, he pictured the nursery having three yellow walls with one white wall accentuated with a mirror and a vanity chest to be used as a changing table.

“What are y’ thinkin’?” Harry hummed, looking down at you as you frowned. 

“I really don’t know,” you mumbled, stepping forward and looking closer at the shades, “what are you thinking? I know you’ve been thinking about this more often than I have.” 

A chuckle left his mouth. 

“I was thinking a nice pale yellow. A gender neutral colour and it would go well with any coloured furniture,” he suggested, reaching for a pale yellow coloured tin and holding it up, “I caught you looking at white furniture online the other day, and, it kind of planted a seed for the yellow colour with maybe, like, one white wall.”

“Why one white wall?”

“My nursery used to be like that,” he admitted, “and, it’ll just give it a brighter feel to the room rather than having it be just all one colour, you know? And white is a common theme through the house anyway,” he added, setting the pain tin back down on the shelf and groaning, rolling his head back and looking towards the ceiling littered with lights and beams. “I never knew that organising a baby’s nursery would be so tough.”

“It’s our first time,” you stated, worming your body in front of him and snaking your arms around his hips, “y’know, we don’t have to do it today. I could just go home right now, slide these jeans off and have you in bed,” you whispered, your chin resting upon his chest as you looked up at him, your lips brushing against his jaw. “Wha’ d’ya say?”

Not necessarily naked and intimate, just, close and comforting with that little intimacy there that didn’t overpower with the only small amount of sexual tension coursing through his body.

“I’d love too, you know that. But, we really need to start buying this for baby Styles,” he explained, dropping his head and blowing a breath over your face, blowing the hair from your face. A distinct smell of mint fresh on his breath. “We’ve been putting off everything so far and I think we’re a bit far behind with everything. I know we’ve been coming to terms with the pregnancy and everything, but, I really think we’ll feel less stress after we get the room started.”

“I s’pose so,” you mumbled, pressing up on your toes and kissing the corner of his lips, “get yellow and white. I like your idea.”

“Not jus’ saying that to make this easier?” He teased, a chuckle escaping his mouth as he felt pokes to his belly, “thinkin’ baby Styles likes the idea. She’s kicking a storm up in there.”

“Uh-huh. It feels like she’s using my insides as footballs, m’telling you,” you grumbled, turning on your heels and spinning around, your back pressed against his chest as you reached for the white matte paint can and held the handle tightly in your hand. “Get the yellow. Please. I love the idea. We’ve never been one to have a purple or pink theme and the house is already grey and black and white so what’s the harm in adding yellow to the mix?” 

The living room in your London home was a mixture of complimentary colours; black and grey accessories and silver photo frames that held family photos and sweet candids taken of you and Harry that you thought would fit perfectly between a bunch of family photos, and, a teal coloured set of cushions set upon a grey sofa facing a TV.

The bedrooms on the second level were all following the similar colour scheme of greys and whites and blacks; the walls were white with one wall that stood out against the plainly painted brick.

The kitchen followed a scheme of white and grey, because Harry knew you liked a room that emitted bright light and didn’t give a vibe of boringness or dullness whenever anybody entered the particular part of the house. Knives and plates followed a similar pattern, the tea towels were pure white and the tiles lining the walls followed a strict white, grey, white, grey sequence. 

There wasn’t any harm in adding a colour that still complimented the house with the rest of the scheme.

“It’s settled then,” Harry smiled, pressing his lips to the back of your head and planting a kiss in your hair, “yellow and white. It’ll be like being a baby again,” he chuckled.

* *

“This place looks too expensive, Harry,” you mumbled, your hand tight in his as you stood at the front of a well-known and busy baby store, filled with expectant mothers and fathers who had taken it upon themselves to buy the furniture necessary for a nursery, “we can’t go in here, Peaches. Our baby will only be using them for 3 years of their life before we change them into a bigger room and give them a bigger bed and use a better pushchair,” you reasoned.

“Nonsense. We can just reuse the furniture over and over again, can’t we?” Harry suggested, wiggling his eyebrows as he looked down at you. “We can have another baby in a few years and then we can reuse the furniture and it won’t be a waste of money.”

“Harry,” you warned, as he stepped forward. 

“C’mon. Everything in here will be so worth the purchase, Gorgeous,” Harry grinned, tugging on your hand and pulling you to his body, your aching and swollen feet following behind him as he pushed open the door and stepped inside, “all we have to do is have a look around, alright? We don’t have to buy anything if you feel it’s too out of our range. We can always have a look online and order furniture in so we don’t have to travel out to go and get it.”

To you, that sounded like a dream.

You wouldn’t have to walk around with an aching back, and aching feet, and a hankering for a nap or a sit down in a chair that you wouldn’t be told to get out of because it wasn’t for the public to sit on. Everything would be there in front of you, your fingers scrolling the page as you adding pieces of furniture to a basket that Harry would pay for when it came to finishing the task. His figure sat beside you, his attention turning from the TV playing a rerun of a football game he’d missed – and spoken to his father about over the phone – and the screen on your lap, pointing out the better options to have in the nursery and backing his reasoning up with something that you couldn’t disagree with. 

To him, it sounded worse.

He knew you were aching and he understood that, just sometimes, you didn’t want to endue pain with each step you took. However, to him, searching and buying furniture for a nursery, that his little girl was going to stay in for the majority of her childhood, in person to see what it looked like when it was set-up to how it was meant to be was a better option; one he would choose any day. He felt much more participated in the father role because he was taking part in debates about what cot was better and he’d be comparing prams and pushchairs to see which one he could be seen folding up and putting in the boot of his car after pushing his baby around the streets to nod her off to sleep. 


“You’re aching, Gorgeous. I know. If we just have one look around here, maybe taking down the order numbers because that way, we can have a look on the website and order them over the internet to get delivered to our house,” he reasoned, his hand braced against the small of your back, his thumb rubbing softly at the knot sitting on your spine. “Just a short walk around,” he promised. 

“Fine,” you smiled, looking over towards the corner of the store where three cots were set up in a row – one was coloured brown, one was coloured white, and one was coloured a dark and shining oak, and all looked sturdy and at a reasonable build to what you had wanted.

However, what turned out to be just a short walk around the store had ended up in an almost four-hundred-pound order and a squeeze into the boot of the Range Rover Harry had opted to take that morning. A cot, a wardrobe, a changing station and a rocking chair squeezed into the boot, with the chairs pushed down and the boxes slanted at a weird angle to get them securely inside the car.

You’d never been more thrilled to sit down in the front passenger seat and slide off your shoes, relieving your sore soles as you curled your toes and stretched them out in the footwell. A bang of the boot closing sounded around the inside of the car, making you just but signifying that he’d squeezed the four large boxes in with the help of the store security guard who had recognised Harry and offered a lending hand. You could see in the side mirror of the car as Harry took a quick photo with the security guard, bid him a farewell with a thank-you, and, agreed to sign what you guessed was a piece of paper for an elder; an elder of whom you presumed had a daughter or a grandchild or knew of somebody who adored the boys as much as anybody else he’d met had.

He’d shuffled into the car shortly after, closing the door and sighing heavily as he looked across to you.

“Ready to go? You don’t need anything from anywhere else?”

You gave him a tired shake of your head, a yawn leaving your lips as he gave you a soft smile and reached over the console for your knee, his neck straining to press a kiss to your temple.

“All we have to do now is buy blankets and little necessities like night lights and a mobile to hang over the cot as well as clothes and nappies and bottles,” he grinned, “my favourite thing.”

He couldn’t lie when it came to stating what his favourite part of your pregnancy would be – getting to walk around shops filled with racks and racks of baby clothes; tiny, sewn together and different colour babygrows, t-shirts that he could fit over his hand, jeans that he could imagine his daughters’ tiny yet chubby legs squeezing into, as well as bibs and skirts and socks that were knitted with bows accentuating the hem.

He’d heard from his mum about baby shopping; emotional stories, funny stories, and stories that made him excited as ever to take part in as an expecting parent. 

- - 

“It’s the best feeling in the world when you pick up a babygrow and it’s the size of your palm,” his mother explained over the rim of her mug of coffee, the hustle and bustle of the Starbucks they were sat in drowning out the sound of her speech. “How are you feeling? Are you ready to be a daddy yet or-”

“Mum, I’m more than excited,” he admitted, “this is the best feeling. I’ve wanted this ever since I said I do to her. We just had our first wedding anniversary and it’s just incredible to think that we were pregnant just a little over 6 months into our marriage,” he grinned. 

“Just wait till you start baby shopping, sweetheart. It’s the best feeling in the world being surrounded by clothes that are just so tiny, and, you just can’t believe that your baby is going to be that small,” Anne admitted, “you were tiny when you were born. So very tiny. Not a big as you are now.”

A chuckle left his mouth as he took a bite of his bacon roll, and chewed on the meat.

“You’re a stylish man. (Y/N)’s a very stylish lady. You’ll be dressing your baby in designer clothes as soon as she’s been born,” Anne laughed, looking at Harry’s button-up attire, “have you been looking for clothes yet or aren’t you worrying to much?”

“Don’t think we’re worrying too much about it. She’s only just passed 4 and a half months so I think we going to get the nursery and the baby-proofing of the house down before we worry about filling a wardrobe up with clothes and shoes,” he smiled, swallowing down the remnants around his mouth, reaching for his bottle of water.

“I’m so excited to start seeing you with a baby, Harry. It’s a mothers dream to see her child becoming a parent themselves. You were a born father, sweetheart. You’ll fly through parenting as easy as anything, I’m sure of it,” she grinned, reaching for his hand, “this will be the best few years of your life, I can assure you. When I had your sister, I swore I couldn’t love anyone more than her, but then you came along and I had a swelling heart filled with love for you both. I’m sure that’s where you get your massive heart from,” she admitted truthfully.

“Have to have you come from Cheshire more often, mum. I know (Y/N)’s mum is getting stuck in with helping us and everything, so, we’d love your help as well.”

- -

“You just can’t wait, can you?” You giggled, placing a hand over his. “Just take us to my mum’s place. I could use one of her amazing cups of tea.” 

Oi, I can make you some good tea. You were knocking it back this mornin’,” Harry muttered with an amused tone lacing within the words rolling off of his tongue, squeezing your knee and earning a groan when his fingers dug into your limbs. “To your mums we go.”

Losing You...

Dean imagine requested by the winner of the BFC, winchester-bros-and-castiel! “Could you do an imagine where you take a bullet for Dean and he gets emotional while patching you up? Fluff and/or Smut please? Thanks :)" My smut tends to be longer than my fluff, so I hope no one minds the length if it gets out of hand. Hope you like it!

WARNING: SMUT, injury to the reader

You remembered little of the hunt, the events taking place before you stepped in front of Dean remaining hazy, before the bullet bit through the flesh at your shoulder, your world spinning as you crumpled to the dampened asphalt. Your vision faded from vivid to vague as the pain and shock induced by the burning hunk of metal threw your body into unconsciousness, the piercing sound of your scream accompanied by the shattering of stone as the bullet, slowed by your body, clipped into the brick exterior of a warehouse behind you. The last sensation you were able to feel before the searing agony stole your alertness was the crack of your head against the pavement, your cheek slick with murky, pungent water, your eyes fluttering closed as Dean’s hands spun your torso to him, emerging from behind you, his emerald eyes swimming as your mind opted out of the experience, forfeiting your awareness to the ebony void of unfeeling bliss. You were buried so deeply within your mind that your removal from the location of the hunt went unnoticed, nor did you wake while being transported in the backseat of Dean’s car. You were wrenched from the darkness by the acidic sting of alcohol as it filtered through the serrated edges of your wound, droplets of acid dripping alond your bare skin, running along your exposed torso, Dean’s arms locking you to the bed as your body writhed, the pain severe while you were in such a vulnerable state. He had removed your jacket, shirt and camisole to expose your wound, one bra strap cut by his pocketknife to remove the material from the afflicted zone. He shushed you, apologizing for the pain, swiping at the blood and mumbling his assurances of your safety, phrases such as ‘through and through’ or 'clean shot’ buzzing their way through the ringing in your ears. He set to stitching your wound, your mind descending from the overly sensitive, recently woken daze to the scattered mind of an injured hunter, your hand griping the bedsheets beneath your body as Dean closed your wound, occasionally dabbing a crimson-stained towel over his needlework. He coaxed your shoulder from the mattress, stabilizing you as he stitched the exit wound on your back, swiping his work over with the acrid whiskey he’d used before, the nip of alcohol in the air, mingling with the salty iron of your blood. Once finished tethering your skin together, he pressed the sticky adherent of an ace bandage to both ends of the wound, easing you back onto the mattress, his hand folding over yours, your grip loosening on the cotton, his fingers lacing with yours, bringing your hand to his lips.

"Hey, hey, are you alright? He didn’t hit you bad, you were lucky it was such a clean shot. I’ll kill the bastard, I swear to God.” he whispered, his breath warming your skin where his words washed over, your head clearing enough to notice his irritated waterlines, his eyes red rimmed from crying. The pain was tolerable now (he must have given you something to numb the pain), or as tolerable as a gunshot could be, your body unwinding, exhaustion gripping your weary muscles, though your mind remained unfazed. Dean lowered his lips to your forehead, his mouth quivering as he pressed a kiss to your skin, his head lifting as he ran a hand through his stubble, an agitated habit you’d come to notice in your time together. He blinked at the ceiling, struggling to control his emotions before attempting to speak again. When he did, his voice was stronger than before. “For a second I… I didn’t know where he’d hit you, and I thought,” he swallowed loudly, shaking his head, his eyes boring down into yours, “I thought, you know, this is it. And my heart stopped, Y/n, I couldn’t bear it. Losing you would have been…” he trailed off, eyes dropping to the bedding. With your uninjured arm, your raised your hand to his cheek, the beginnings of his beard prickling along your palm, his eyes refocusing on your face.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dean.” You assured him, your voice frailer than intended, but sincere nonetheless. He pressed his lips to yours once more, his tongue darting gently over your lower lip, pressing against your teeth. You parted your lips, his tongue stroking over your own, his hand unlacing from your injured hand, fingers smoothing over your bare waist, spreading heat to your abdomen and raising gooseflesh in his wake, his touch delicate as if you were a damaged porcelain doll. He stood from the seat he’d moved to your bedside, hovering over you, bent to your lips like a pilgrim to the feet of a saint’s statue. His fingers ducked beneath the waistline of your jeans, going no further than the waistband, tugging you to the middle of the bed without having to grip your shoulders, moving you slowly to the center of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress beside each of your legs. He broke the kiss, hands running over your jeans, his touch electrifying you. You mumbled his name, inching your hips in his direction, parting and bending your knees to leave room between your legs for him. His emerald eyes sparkled with passion, lust buried behind his ardent affections, his fingers deftly undoing the button on your pants, working the material from your hips. You winced as you shifted your weight, his eyes flashing to your shoulder, abandoning the pants around your calves to press kisses to your collar, lips skirting around the bandages, his mouth sparkling against your skin. When he was sure you were no longer distracted by the pain (rather, he was your new distraction), he returned to his task of removing your denim, easing your feet from the legholes, the fabric falling to the floor behind him.

He peeled his tee shirt from his body, his muscled chest and stomach tensing as he moved, twisting to toss his shirt away, his body gleaming in the dying light of the motel’s bedside lamp. He ran his hands down your thighs, gripping your hips and pulling your core to his , kneeling between your legs. He bent over you, walking himself above you, his lips kissing along your stomach, your neck, working his way to your lips, his teeth tugging on your lip, securing you to him, your neck craning. Your uninjured hand traced the defining lines of his triceps, his hips dipping, his abdomen flush against yours before he backed away, standing from the bed to remove his pants, his boxers revealing a noticeable bulge. His eyes held yours as he worked his boxers from his hips as well, his member standing against his stomach. He knelt before you once more, his fingers tugging your underwear from your hips, pausing when he’d worked the garment to your upper thighs, to kiss along your lower stomach, your core warming at his proximity, his hands sliding your underwear from your feet as he had done your pants. His hand cupped your padded breast, lips kissing the exposed flesh above the line of your bra, clearly biding time while he thought of a removal solution that wouldn’t irritate your injury. After a moment of agonizing kissing, he lowered your uncut bra strap, your hand slipping through, wiggling your bra down your body until your breasts were exposed, twisting the material until he had the clasps in his view, unlatching the garment and sweeping it from the bed, his hands once more grasping your knees, bending them as he positioned himself, kneeling, between your legs, your folds coming in contact with the shaft of his erection, his eyes closing at the heat. His hand dove between his legs, running his tip over your heat, your hips bucking into his. Seeing your impatience, he cut the teasing, your injury finally working in your favor.

Dean positioned himself before slowly thrusting inside of you, your jaw clenching over a moan, his eyes closing as he paused, allowing you to grow accustomed to the sensation before he moved, immediately setting an infuriatingly slow, sensual pace, his hands rubbing along your thighs, pressing them against his sides as he lifted his hips against yours. Your hand reached for him, flinching your shoulder closer to your body, your action pulling him to hover over you, his palms securing your legs behind his back, his thrusts slowing, the force behind each movement increasing as his lips attached to your neck, your hand tangling in the hair at the back of his head. His palms spread over your breasts, ravishing your body as he worked himself over you. Your toes were tingling from the carnal contact, his hand deserting your chest to slip between your legs, his fingers smoothing over your clit, your mouth opening over a wordless gasp, Dean’s lips sucking splotches onto your neck as he rubbed, his thrusts increasing. He whispered your name into your skin with a passion powerful enough to scrawl the words across your bones, his lips moving back to yours, tongue dancing desperately with your own, his thrusts moving your body with his, his fingers sloppily playing with your nerves. You felt your stomach tighten, your core throbbing, Dean twitching within you a dead giveaway of your equal arousal. His eyes screwed shut, his lips opening over a groan, thrusting once more, moving inch by inch, your walls clenching around him as you came, your heightened pleasures inducing his own, warmth filling you as your name flew from his lips, passion backing his plea like a prayer. He backed his hips away from yours, your mind hazy, as he leaned himself over you, his lips pulling against yours in a sweeter, lingering touch, his forehead resting against yours, eyes burning down into yours, the sweat glistening on his forehead like moonlit dew. You could feel his heart pounding from his chest to yours, his pulse erratic. He smiled, panting heavily, a breathy laugh escaping from between his swollen lips.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He assured, his breath blowing over your feverish cheeks, meeting your lips as you reached for his touch once more.


Fondle the pearl of your distant dreams/ Haven’t you heard the word of your body?

Matt Magnusson as Hanschen, Christopher Higgins as Ernst, performing The Word of Your Body (Reprise), Spring Awakening LA, 2012.

anonymous asked:

Could you possibly write 3 with 5 involving Mark from got7? Like you were fwb with him but then you both started having feelings for each other


All Yours (M)



I hope you like this request, I spent quite a while on this. And I wanted to make this a scenario because I haven’t got much Mark on my blog. Please continue to request scenarios and any kind of drabbles! x


‘Oh fuck!’

You raked your nails down Mark’s back as he thrusted harshly into you without waiting for you to adjust, groaning into your ear which only turned you on even more as you moaned hysterically loud.

He had come to you in a really bad mood, and obviously you allowed him to take his stress out on you.

‘Come on baby, let me hear you moan my name! Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good!’ Mark growled in your ear as you clenched around him, groaning as he just continued to pound you harder and harder as he went.

Maintaining his rhythm well, your climax steadily approached, the sounds of your skin slapping against one another, your moans, his pants resonating through the room.  

‘Oh-MARK!’ He groaned in response as he continued to thrust into you at full speed, biting down on your lip as he squeezed your rear.

Finally, your mouth fell in a silent moan as he hit your spot over and over, sending you over the edge as you finally let out a loud moan. He speeds up, not stopping his rhythm until he cummed into the latex material.

He roll off of you quickly, both of you gasping for air desperately, while he got rid of the condom before returning to your side. You had begun this little “Friends With Benefits” ever since you Mark became your roommate couple of years back, always coming back from the company full of frustration and anger.

You both had agreed to help each other when you could, but when he joined his own dorm and bandmates, it was a bit harder, but much more exhilarating. Sneaky quickies under the tables or in bathrooms if needed, sometimes in public, or even long out sessions when at your apartment together.

You gasped for breath as you laid side by side, when suddenly you felt his fingers push away the sweaty hair that stuck to your forehead, caressing it gently.

‘Are you okay? I hope I wasn’t too rough on you tonight!’ He said in his usual voice, very different to the one that he was using only a few minutes. You smiled at him gently, shaking your head quickly, ‘No I’m fine, thanks though …’

He smiles at you but but it quickly fades, and he retracts his hand away. As if something snapped, Mark gets up, grabbing his clothes, making you sit up grabbing the sheets to cover yourself quickly.

‘Your not going to stay?’ You said as you watched him rush around, getting his things together quickly, stuttering out, ‘N-No I have to go quickly.’

You watched as finally pulled his jacket on, zipping it up, his attire a mess in the rush. He looks towards you one last time and mutters under his breath, ‘I’ll see you later …’

‘Mark-’ But before you can stop him, he had left the room, rushing down the stairs and the only thing you hear is his footsteps and the slamming of the door.

You sit up, rubbing your head gently as the tears spilled slowly down your cheeks. Mark had been coming over a lot recently, almost three to four times a week, fucking you, doing his own thing and then leaving. It hurt you, but you would never question his motives. 

You slowly stood up, tying the sheet around your body, too lazy to retrieve the misplaced and thrown articles of clothing. You gathered your hair into a messy bun before making your way shakily down the steps towards the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

You had fallen for Mark, just a few months after you had started being “Friends With Benefits.” Just the way he knew you, and the way he would always look at you with something more than lust that just sent chills down your body.

But it was more than that, you had known each other from a young age, and you loved him not only as in a crush type of way, but in a best friend way too.

You just sighed as you waited for your tea to boil, absentmindedly watching the steam rise through the air. Finally when it was done you, you sipped your drink slowly.

The pattering of rain echoed through your apartment, the only other sound entering your ears gently. You sighed, leaning your head against your hand, nodding off as your tears just continued to fall ever so slowly like trickling rivers.

You awoke to loud, harsh banging echoing through your apartment, coming from the front door and the thrashing of rain. You groaned, stretching and rubbing your eyes before tightening the sheet around your body.

You opened the door and gasped in shock to find a rain drenched Mark, his hair and clothes sticking to his clothes.

‘Mark?! What are you doing here?’ You say, instantly pulling him inside into the warmth of the house. He shivers lightly, rubbing his arms, grabbing his hand and making him sit on the bed in your bedroom.

Mark watches you grab a towel from the closet and wrap it around him, getting another to dry his hair quickly, ‘What were you doing out in the rain?

He didn’t reply, just watching as you wiped his hair, but as you went to dispose of the towel, you felt him grab your wrist.
‘Mark what-’ But you had no time to brace yourself as he pushed you firmly against the wall, his eyes set with a certain type of determination as he stared down at you. His hands on either side of your head, he had you trapped.

You gasped, at the close proximity as Mark gazed down into your eyes, gulping lightly as you speak, ‘Mark … What are you doing?’

‘Y/N … I need to tell you something …’ He says softly, sighing before finally speaking again. ‘No!’ You stop him, pushing him away firmly as he gave you a confused look.

‘Mark, I need to know, why you have been leaving right after our-our little sessions together with the same explanation that you have to do something. I mean if you have a girlfriend or another FWB, or if you just don’t think I’m good enough you can just-’

You look up at him as he just smiles at your babbling before coming closer to you, letting his ran run from your shoulder down to your hand which he took, sending goosebumps over your body.

He pulled clipped his finger under your chin, jutting it up so he can look at you with a small smile on his perfect lips, ‘I would never leave you … Not now, not ever!’

‘What are you saying?’ You whimper shakily as he caresses your cheek, he chuckles at you in this state. Usually you were bold, fierce and just upright confident, but now you were nervous to the bone.

Mark pushed away strands of your hair slowly before whispering, ‘I’m in love you with Y/N …’

You looked up at his with round, glazed eyes as he just smiled, ‘I fell for you when we met, and fell for you even deeper when we began all this. I know I’ve acted like a total jerk for the past week or so, and I’m sorry. I was just trying to get my head around whether I should tell you … And now I have and-’

You cut him off by placing your lips to his, holding him still with your hand on the back of his neck. He immediately placed his hands against your cheeks, cupping it gently.

This kiss had been different to the ones you usually shared that were rushed, and full of lust. But this one was slow, sweet and full of passion, one that made your body shook upon, electricity down your spine.

Mark was the first one to pull away, his forehead placed against yours as you both breathed heavily. Slowly he ran his fingertips down your cheeks, your neck and slowly his fingers slipped upon the knot that kept the sheet around your body.

He looked into your eyes, as if asking for permission. You nodded slowly and with that, his fingers loosened the makeshift knot, letting the sheet fall and expose your naked self to him.

Mark lifted your face up again and kissed you, but with more urgency and passion as he let his fingers dance upon your skin. You slipped the zipper of his jacket down, disposing of it quickly before you pulled his wet shirt over his head, revealing his chest, both of you returning to the kiss quickly.

You let your hand run down his chest, feeling his body shake beneath your touch before undoing the button and zipper of his pants, pushing it down as far as you could before he kicked it away.

His hands caressed your back before he grabbed the undersides of your legs, forcing you to wrap your legs around him as he brought you to the bed.

Mark laid you gently, staring down at you in all your glory. He had seen you naked so many times now, but not like this. The way the glow of your lamp and light of the lightning hit your body, showed off all your beauty. You were an absolute Goddess to him.

He swiftly kissed you before trailing his opened mouthed kisses from the corner of your jawline, down the junction of your neck and down the valley of your breasts.

Mark took your breast within his hand, suckling on you nipple as your threw your head back, moaning as he massaged the other gently yet firmly.

Finally after treating each equally, he kissed his way down your stomach, kissing your stomach and hip line, the tiny stretch marks that you always complained about, but those were the things he loved about you, how you were imperfectly perfect.

After rolling on a condom, he hovered over you, kissing you lovingly as he pumped himself before pushing himself into you, both of you moaning out as filled you up.

Mark began thrusting into you, but not like the usual roughness, but instead he was gentle, and loving, treating you as if you were glass about to shatter at the slightest wrong move.

He held your body close with one arm wrapped around your back, the other quickly finding your hand and holding it in his grip. The sounds that filled the room were your whimpers and his groans, the slapping of skin against skin and the occasional thunder crack. Mark brought his lips to yours quickly as he began thrusting just a notch faster, swallowing your moans as swivelled his hips right into your spot, sending you into a world of pleasure. 

‘Mark I’m gonna-’ Your words choked back, the pleasure unbearable and taking your body over. You stared up at Mark. His body shone in the flashes of lightning, his body glazed with sweat, and his hair falling just above his eyes, his face contorted in pleasure. 

You threw your head back against the pillows as you were rocked with your climax, your whole body shaking in Mark’s arms as he brought you in for another kiss, not stopping his pace. He continued to thrust into you until he let out a growl, biting down on your lip as he cummed. 

He laid you down against the sheets, gently placing your head on the pillows. You moaned lightly as he pulled out, tying the condom and the disposing of it, but what your caught your eye was that he was putting on his boxers again. 

You raised your head lightly and whispered, ‘Leaving again?’

He looked up at this, smirking before coming over as he picked up the sheet and laid beside you, covering both your bodies. ‘What do you think?’ He said as he gave you a cheeky grin, you just smiled as he pulled you upon his chest, kissing your forehead, ‘I won’t leave, not anymore. I’m all yours.’