#I can heard him and his guest playing music loud

[candybunnieholic]

Insomnia is one awful motherfucker of a bitch because I have been up since 6am in the morning and I couldn’t fall back asleep for many reasons due to the bright light shining through my curtains and my little brother have company over so it was hard to sleep with all of the loud noises anyway I’m a little bit grumpy as well.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔

🕊️a whore's farytale masterlist🕊️

summary - the town's beauty (you) finds herself bargaining her life for her fathers, will the cursed beasts go easy on her? or figure out that she's the one who can break their curse?

warning - smut, monster-fucking, choking, blood play, oral, creampie, name calling, being restrained, biting, refused orgasm/edging, foursome (sorta), being passed around, swearing, death, forced voyeurism, obsessive man, grabbing, groping, trapped, held hostage, slight angst.

18+ only please, the gifs I use aren't mine, header created by me.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The story began with three brothers, they were the same in personality but so different in looks. But the universe had other plans for the pompous Princes, the night of their party was the night a certain witch decided to teach them a lesson, one that would not only make their personalities the same, but also their looks. The sound of music and chatter could be heard from outside the castle with how loud it was. Ari, Logan and Geralt– the Princes, are dressed exceptionally well. Only the finest of clothing fits their bulky forms, expensive jewels decorate their body. Ari and Geralt both have their hair tied back in a slick ponytail, one longer than the other. A silky silver matches Geralt’s light gray suit, while Ari wears a silky blue, matching his darker blue suit. Logan has his hair slicked back, although slightly messier with a few strands falling in front of his face, the look doesn’t make him any less handsome. He wears a silky black suit, the colour looking almost devilish on him. 

The brothers split from one another, Ari strides toward a beautiful blonde, twirling her as he pulls her toward the dance floor. Logan stalks off to the bar, glaring at anyone that gets in his way and Geralt heads toward a group of women, already flaunting themselves at him. The party is wild as the guests enjoy themselves, none aware of the storm brewing outside. An old woman trembles as she stands before the large doors, her wrinkled hands shake as she knocks, the sound echoing throughout the room, stopping the party momentarily. The three brothers turn, looking at the door and then to each other, a scowl on their faces, wondering who dares interrupt their party. Logan head tips back as the alcohol slides down his throat before he slams the glass down, his other two brothers express their deepest apologies. All three head towards the door, it may seem a bit extreme, but the three never go anywhere without each other. The only thing that they didn’t do together was share a woman. 

Ari’s hands wrap around the handles, flinging the door open and they scowl down at the ugly old lady before them. “What do you want?” The men stand there, their bulky builds taking up the whole doorway. 

“P–Please, may I come in for some shelter?” The old woman shivers, her nimble hands trembling and she clutches three roses. She offers them to the three princes, “I offer these roses for your kindness.” Her lips quiver, the cold seeming to get to her.

Logan scoffs. “God, no. Find somewhere else you wretched old hag.” The other two nod, not hiding their disgust. A shriek escapes their lips as suddenly the ugly hag magically shifts into a beautiful woman. “What the…”

Her face is set in stone, a harsh glare in her eyes. “Despicable. You’d think Princes like yourselves would be kinder. But, alas you have failed the test.”

“What? What test? You are welcome to come in, Miss.” Geralt stumbles, shamelessly checking out the Enchantress. Her lip curls as though she can see the dirty thoughts swirling around in his mind. 

Her head tilts, the three roses suddenly being encased in three glass domes, the beautiful flowers floating in the centre. “No. For the curse to be broken, you will have to find someone that will want you, all of you.”

Ari scoffs. “Please. We can have anyone want us, are you blind?”

The Enchantress smirks. “What I mean is for them to want all of you in your true forms.” Suddenly magic swirls around the men and their bodies begin to grow and shred, thick luscious fur replacing flesh. Sharp claws replace nicely kept fingernails, eyes turning a bright golden-yellow. Growls begin to fill the air as canines spurt from their gums, replacing their human teeth. The usual men now beasts stood at eight-feet, towering over the witch and before they could strike, she disappeared. Her words rang in their head. ‘If you do not find someone who truly wants you before the last petal falls, you will be stuck as beasts forever.’

Years pass and nearby in a small village, a beautiful young woman named Y/n-Belle hurries through the town. You greeted people as you passed by, a warm smile resting upon your lips. You hurried over to your favourite store, which happened to be the bookstore, a giant grin appears as you push the door open and stumble through, the excitement vibrating throughout your whole body. Y/n-Belle was a very strange, but smart woman, you were the only one in town that got excited about books and reading, causing you to become an outcast and lonely within the people. But you didn’t mind, you were quite content with living in your fantasies. 

The bookstore owner heads over to you, a smile on his face as he hands you one of your favourites. A book that you’ve read a thousand of times, yet would never tire of reading it. You smile, a dreamy look appearing on your face as you peer down at the book, your soft hands grabbing it gently, fingers stroking the cover. “This is my favourite! Far-off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise…” You pause, your imagination flashing before your eyes as you play out the words in the book. You blink, coming back into reality and you give the man a smile. “Oh, thank you very much!” 

You spin, your blue and white dress swishing around you. You rush outside, the book already opened and your eyes flickering over the words as you walk. Your head was stuck in the book, not noticing the town's most handsome hunter heading straight for you. “Y/n-Belle!��� You were hoping that if you ignored him that he would go away, but that did not seem to be the case. He stopped in front of you, nearly causing you to topple over. Gaston chuckles, “the whole town’s talking about you! It’s not right for a woman to read,” He shakes his head, chuckling as if the thought alone was funny. Yet, you had somehow figured that he’s never picked up a book in his life, his small mind proving that the more he talks. “It’s about time you got your nose out of those books and paid attention to more important things— like me!” He boasts, puffing his chest out like he is the most desirable thing to live and breathe. Truthfully, none of the men in your village caught your fancy. You were more into, well… Beasts.

You desperately try to get away without being rude, not in the mood to deal with a petulant child. You could see your escape, but as you opened your mouth to leave. Gaston’s “friend” joined, beginning to insult your father without much of a hello. Your brows furrowed and your lips pursed. “My father is not crazy! He’s a genius, but you are too stupid to realise that!” You blow up, letting your anger consume you without thinking properly. An explosion interrupts the men from responding, the sound coming from your cottage where your father is currently working on something. Without much thought, you take off running. 

You arrive at the cottage, finding your father. Gaston’s words replay in your head, you sit on top of a barrel that is in your front yard. “They think I’m odd, Papa.” You play with your fingers, picking some dirt from underneath your fingernails. 

“Don’t worry, Y/n-Belle. My inventions are going to change everything for us. We won’t have to live in this little town forever.” He says with a giant smile, one that used to give you hope to his dreams. But they slowly begin to dwindle as his inventions haven’t gotten any better, but you don’t want to ruin his dreams by voicing your concerns. You watch as he mounts your horse, Philippe, setting off for the fair with his new invention. “Goodbye, Y/n-Belle! Don’t worry about what others say, you will go places!”

Maybe you did still have hope, especially when he gives you another one of his smiles and a wave. You return it, watching as he goes.  “Goodbye! Good luck, I believe in you, father!”

Still at the cottage, you don’t know that your father got lost on his way and the events following would eventually lead you to your future, whether it be good or bad. But it would definitely be strange, and full of twists and turns.

You sit inside, your head in your book again. Even though you had read it many times, it would still be your favourite. You are pulled out of your fantasy world as you hear a knock at the door. You get up, slowly opening it and sighing as you see Gaston on the other side. “Gaston! What a… pleasant surprise!” You force a tiring smile on your lips. 

Gaston strolls in, taking his shoes off, exposing his dirty and very used socks. He takes a seat at the head of the table, placing his dirty feet on top of your favourite book, causing it to become dirty. A scowl appears upon your face at the disrespect of this man. “Y/n-Belle! There’s not a woman in town who wouldn’t love to be in your shoes. Do you know why? Because I want to marry you!”

You huff silently, knowing that the only way you could get out of this is if you politely decline and make it seem as though you weren’t worthy of him. “Gaston, I’m speechless!” You gnaw on your bottom lip, hating that this disgusting pig of a man won’t leave you alone. “I’m sorry, but… but…” You swallow, knowing you will have to force these words out. “I just don’t deserve you!” You force back scrunching your nose in disgust, watching as humiliation falls upon his face. 

Without a word he stumbles out, hastily putting on his shoes causing him to trip, slipping into some mud. You peeked out, placing a hand over your lips to cover the giggle that threatened to escape past them, watching as the villagers gathered around, hoping to see some sort of wedding or at least a celebration. Only to witness their friend and fellow villager fall into some mud, causing Gaston to feel even more humiliated than before. You’d hope that would at least knock his ego down a few pegs.

You waited until everyone had disappeared from your home before rushing out to feed the chickens. You hear something causing your head to whip around and you find your horse, Philippe, alone without your father. You head over to him, checking for something, anything. “Philippe! What are you doing here? Where’s Papa?!” He whines anxiously and you immediately rush to the house to grab your cloak before running back to him and climbing onto his back. You feel frightened as you think of all the possibilities of what could’ve happened to your father. This feeling pushes you to return to the mysterious forest, allowing you to find a castle that looks like it has been abandoned for many years.

You try and steady, Philippe, brows furrowing when you spot something on the ground. With swift movements, you dismount your horse and move toward the object. A soft gasp passes your lips as you recognise your father’s hat. Without a second thought, you hurry toward the gloomy castle, pushing past the heavy doors and deciding to wander the vast deserted corridors. Your main focus was to find your father, no care of what may happen to you. “Papa? Are you here? It’s Y/n-Belle!” You were met with silence, you continued your search not knowing of the objects that are alive because of the curse within the castle walls.

You stumble along as you finally discover your father locked away in a cell. You gasp, having to kneel as the only opening was at feet level. “Papa! We have to get you out of here!” Suddenly you felt as though you were being watched. 

“What’re you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t be in our castle, Little one.” 

“Leave now!” 

Your eyes widen when you hear three different voices coming from within the shadows. “Please, let my father go! Take me instead!”

There was a scoff filled with curiosity from the shadows. “You would take his place?” 

“S–step into the light please…” You asked. Your expression morphed as you stared horrified at three huge, ugly Beasts– well, they weren’t ugly… But you wouldn’t let them know that between your thighs you felt yourself clench around nothing. You gulped, you didn’t want to be anywhere near these monsters, but you agreed to take your father’s place. “I–” You swallow the saliva that gets stuck in your throat. “I would. I will take his place.” Your words left no room for argument, you were putting your foot down. You didn’t know that you signed up for forever with the three Beasts.

As the words left your lips, one of the Beasts grabbed your father from his cell and dragged him throughout the castle, once outside he was thrown into a carriage that would take him home. The other two begin to walk, causing you to follow behind nervously. The third joining immediately, you let your eyes wander. Taking everything in, it felt like one of those books you always had your nose buried in. 

Your voice cuts through the silence, sounding as though it echoes through the dark halls. “D–do you three have names?” As I don’t want to continue calling you Beasts in my head, you think the last bit to yourself. Knowing it would be rude of you to voice out loud. 

“Ari.” 

“Logan.” 

“Geralt.” 

They growl out, hardened eyes landing on your tiny form. Ari steps toward you, towering over you as you shiver, your eyes wide and you try to shrink into yourself. “Our castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you like…”

Geralt cuts in. “Except the West Wing.”

You stare back, innocently asking. “What’s in the West Wing?” 

Their bodies tense and they glare as Logan growls out. “It’s forbidden!” Geralt opens a door to your new bedroom and pushes you in. 

“You will join us for dinner. That’s not a request.” Ari stares you down, stopping you from protesting. They shut the door and stalk off, separating to different parts of the castle. You lie down on the bed, burying your face into the pillows. You knew you would never escape this prison, nor would you ever see your father again. Maybe you should’ve married Gaston, at least then you wouldn’t be stuck with Beasts.

The disgusting truth though was how much you weren’t disgusted by their forms. Their behaviour. It was definitely something out of those books you read, just less romantic and more animalistic. You huff, shaking your head of those thoughts. You will in no way let them find out about this. It was something different than other women would fantasie about and you didn’t want those… FREAKS! To judge you.

You refused to go to dinner when the time came, knowing you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself if you stayed in the same room as them for too long. Oh, how your father would be disgraced by the woman you’ve become. You had grown bored and hungry and had decided to wander the castle in hopes of finding the kitchen. With quiet footsteps, you exited your room and tiptoed down the halls, peaking your head around corners and stopping whenever you heard the slightest of noises.

You were no fool, the Beasts had been mad when you refused to dine with them and if one of them were to find you wandering the halls in search of food. Well you fear you may become theirs instead. Though, you wouldn’t mind them… No, you couldn’t let your thoughts wander for too long. 

A small squeal passes your lips when you finally stumble upon the kitchen, happily making your way over to the fridge before a voice interrupts, causing your heart to drop into your stomach. 

“You know… If you had come to dinner. You wouldn’t be so hungry now.” The voice was deep, a growl slipping through with each word. You spin, eyes wide as they land on Logan, how had you missed such a big figure? You squeak, not knowing what to reply with. Logan raises a furry brow, “Cat got your tongue, Little one?” He moves fast, now towering over you. “Or should I say Beast?” 

Your thighs press together, a whimper slipping past your lips and your wide eyes stare up at him. “I–I…” Stupid, why the hell would you try to speak when you’re in this position? Your voice would give you away, you daft bimbo. You scowl at yourself, how could you be so dumb when you were the only one to read in your village? You gulp as he leans in with a smirk. You don’t know that their senses had heightened with their transformation, you had practically given yourself away since you broke into their castle. 

“Hmm? No words?” Your hunger forgotten and replaced with something else. You notice how his hand, though actually a paw, comes up, a lit cigar between his clawed fingers, bringing it to his lips, puffing on it as he stares into your eyes watching as you follow his movements. “Ya know, my brothers are angry with the fact you ignored their invitation.” 

Your eyes roll and you scoff. “Well, excuse me for not wanting to dine with those that are keeping me hostage.” His brow raises again, not expecting so many words to pass your lips. You gulp, where the hell did that come from? 

“Huh, so you do say more than four words.” He leans closer if that was even possible, “Better watch your tone with me, Little one or else I’m gonna have to do something about it.” With those words, he disappears and you whimper. Fantastic, the only pair of knickers you have on you and they are completely drenched. You wouldn’t be surprised if the other two could smell you wherever they were.

You shakily prepare a small meal, hurriedly eating it so you don’t have another run in. When you finish, you swear you hear someone speak. But looking around, you find no one. Your brows furrow, are you finally going insane? You begin to get up when you hear it again.

“Excuse me, Miss.” You look around again, what the hell? “Down here, Miss.” You look down and let out a small squeak of surprise, there stands before you a small clock that seems alive? He blinks up at you, a smile on his face? “Hello. I am Cogsworth. I am sorry for frightening you.”

“I–it’s f–fine.” You clear your throat. “It’s fine. You didn’t frighten me, just a bit startled is all.” You try to smile, “Have you been here this whole time?” You hoped he hadn’t, you wouldn’t want to know what an object thought of the previous events. 

Cogsworth shakes his head. “No, Miss. Master Logan ordered that I escort you back to your quarters. He doesn’t want you wandering about… In your condition.” His eyes squint, as though he understands yet how could you know he would? You had no clue that the alive object was once a person. 

“Oh, okay.” You stand, smoothing down your dress about to follow but you stop. “Actually, Cogsworth. Would you mind giving me a tour of the castle, please?” 

He looks at you for a few seconds, as though he was hesitating before he nods. “Okay, follow me. Miss.” You spend most of your night getting acquainted with your new home before you stop underneath a dark staircase. Noticing how Cogsworth seems to want to hurry past it without acknowledging it. 

“What’s up there?” Your curiousity seeps through your words. 

Cogsworth practically shakes as he answers. “Nothing, absolutely nothing of interest at all in the West Wing.” Your interest piqued as you heard West Wing. You watch as he’s too busy focusing on ensuring the two of you don’t get caught, especially near this staircase. Allowing you to escape unnoticed, racing up the staircase and into a long hallway lined with broken mirrors.

“Well… That’s bad luck for many, many years.” You wet your lips as you cautiously opened the doors at the end of the corridor. You enter the dank, filthy room strewn with broken furniture, torn curtains and grey, gnawed bones. Your eyes wide, taking it all in before they land on the only living object or should you say objects. There behind a glass dome were three shimmering roses. Entranced, Y/n–Belle lifted the cover and reached out to touch one soft, pink petal. You were so entranced that you did not hear Ari enter the room.

“I warned you never to come here!” He advanced on you. “GET OUT! GET OUT!” Your daze had been broken, desire now replaced with fear. You became terrified of his rage, causing you to turn and run. You run out of the room, down the stairs and past Cogsworth and a candle? You didn’t have time to stop, you needed to leave. Not even your lust for your fantasy to come true could stop you. Your feet had taken control of your body. 

“Promise or no promise, I can’t stay here another minute!” You flee, finding your horse and taking off. You gallop through the snow until you are met with a pack of fierce, hungry wolves. Your eyes widen, mouth opening and closing as you don’t know whether to scream or breathe. Through your terror, you forgot about the horse you sat upon. He reared, causing you to fall to the ground, tumbling into the snow below. They were advancing on Philippe, so with quick movements, you found a large stick and defended your horse. 

“Stay back!” You swing, swiping at them. Hoping and praying that they would leave. Their attention moved from your horse and you would’ve sighed of relief but instead you choked up, the wolves had now turned on you. Their canines bared as they snarl. Oh no, no no no. You thought, brows furrowing as worry fills you. Well, at least they are no longer after Philippe. 

You shriek as they pounce, about to rip you apart until suddenly a large paw pulls the animals off of you. It was Ari and you notice Logan and Geralt standing behind him. Anger evident on their faces, you knew it was directed towards you for leaving and now nearly getting yourself killed. You struggle to your feet, stumbling into a pair of arms as all you can do is watch the wolves turn and strike Ari and Logan, fierce growls filling the cold air. The wolves were no match for the two, being torn off and flung as a ferocious howl escapes the Beasts, surprising the wolves before they flee into the night. 

Logan grunts while Ari stumbles, collapsing into the snow. Wounded. The brothers attention now focused on him, Geralt’s hold loosening and this could’ve been your chance to escape. But what did you have at home? And when you looked at the fallen Beast, you knew you couldn’t leave him. Even though he had his brothers. Logan and Geralt pull Ari up, arms wrapped around him as he leaned against them. He was not the fighter of the two and not even he knew why he didn’t let Geralt fight in his place. 

The Beasts barely spare you a glance, they began to walk away, expecting you to get on your horse and leave. But you didn’t move, with a heavy heart you watched them walk from you. Did your chance slip through your fingers? Philippe nudges you, looking at you with those big eyes and you sigh. He nudges you again, gesturing you to look and when you do, your mouth opens. The three Beasts had stopped, as if they were waiting for you and without a second thought. You grabbed your horse and raced toward them, offering your horse for Ari to rest on and to get to the castle faster so you could tend to his wounds. 

Back at the castle, you cleaned Ari’s wound. “Thank you… For saving my life even though you didn’t have to.” You whisper, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “I… I hope you can forgive me for running.” You look up from his wound to his face, not knowing the feeling he feels when you look at him like that. 

His paw covers your hand, “There’s nothing to forgive, Beauty. I’m the one who should apologise for scaring you.” You shake your head, his gaze gets distracted by the way your hair frames your face and how the light of the sunrise hits your skin, causing you to glow. “Do you think I’m okay enough to walk for a bit? I have something I want to show you.” 

Your brows furrow, looking between his wound and him. His face makes it hard for you to say no, but you also didn’t want him to hurt himself by moving too much. You look up again, being met with puppy dog eyes which makes it harder to resist when he’s not exactly human looking. “...Okay! Okay, but only for a little bit. I don’t want you hurting yourself and ruining all of my work.” You assist him as you help him up, allowing his arm to wrap around you. Which is quite difficult seeing as there is a massive height and size difference. Oh god, you begin to think what else is huge… How would you be able to possibly fit it inside of you? You shake your head, ridding yourself of those thoughts, hoping that the Beast wouldn’t catch on. 

Ari leads you through the halls before stopping upon two large doors. He leans forward, opening them and you both walk inside. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. “Oh my god!” You look around, a gasp escaping your lips. “This is so beautiful! I’ve never seen so many books in all my life!” 

Ari had smiled a real smile for the first time since he was a child. “Then it is yours.” You look at him in disbelief, you could’ve dropped to your knees right then and there. 

…

Okay, so you did. You fell right to your knees, not caring that they scraped against the carpet or that a squeak of desire left you as you finally gave into your desire. Ari stared wide-eyed down at you, his mouth wide open as shock filled him. He was not expecting that, if he had known all it would take was giving you their library, he would’ve done that from the beginning. “What… What are you doing?” 

Your eyes widen, finally reality hits. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry!” You go to stand, but his paw stops you, keeping you in place. You could feel your knickers dampen. Not the same ones, they had mysteriously gone missing when you went to shower before tending to Ari. But you were thankful to whoever laid out new clothes for you. 

“I didn’t say you had to get up. I just have never seen someone drop to their knees so fast.” He felt himself harden, his cursed body did come with an added bonus. He was now much larger than his human self, he wasn’t small before. But now it was monstrous. 

You watched with wide and lust filled eyes as his pants expanded, stretching to the point it looked as though the seams would break. “Can… Can I?” You gesture to his bulge, looking up at him with large, doe eyes. 

“Fuck.” He nods, growling. “Go ahead, Beauty.” His golden-yellow eyes stare down at you, canines digging into his bottom lip as you press your hand against the bulge, feeling it, squeezing it. Your hand is tiny compared to him, causing a whimper to slip from your lips and a growl from his. “You gonna play with it or suck it?” He growls, frustrated. You squeeze your thighs together, grabbing the waistband of his pants and pulling them down. You let out a moan as his member springs free. Nearly slapping you in the face with how big it is. 

You lean forward hesitantly, kissing his weeping tip before bringing it into your mouth and sucking. Your eyes slip closed as you moan around it, it felt so perfect against your tongue. It was a struggle to get the whole tip in your mouth, right now you could only get a small bit in. But you were going to make this work, you didn’t know when another opportunity like this would present itself. Ari watched from above as you struggled to fit him inside, groaning at the sight. 

Your tongue flicked over the slit, collecting the pre-cum that leaks out. You let out a whimper as you slowly move further down his cock, taking more of him inside of your mouth. You can feel yourself dripping onto the floor with how wet you are. Ari’s paw slams down on a nearby bookshelf, his growls fill the room, echoing throughout the castle. You rest your hands on his furry thighs, gripping them as you force more of him in, mouth stretched as wide as it can, sucking him in. One hand moves to the rest you can’t fit in, no matter how much you try and force it to. You wrap it around the base, twisting and jerking while your head bobs up and down, tongue swirling and tracing his veins, causing more sounds to escape the Beast. 

You don’t notice the two brothers that hide in the shadows, watching you suck off their brother. They felt themselves become filled with hope and desire, knowing you were the one that would break their curse. Ari grips your head, holding you down as he cums down your throat, watching it overflow and drip from the sides of your mouth, trying to swallow everything desperately like the good girl you are. When he pulls his cock free from your mouth, all three Beasts take a sharp breath at how good you looked covered in cum, your eyes glazed over with a need to be fucked. 

After the events in the library, everything began to change. Throughout the month, you would find yourself suddenly pushed up against a wall, lips attached to any exposed flesh, hands beneath your dress or groping your breasts. You were so sexually frustrated, the Beasts would rile you up only to leave you wanting more. They would never let you cum, they weren’t even trying to get themselves off. You began to spend your time with them, always sitting on one of their laps, never straying far. If one found you reading or even just simply existing. You’d suddenly be under them, at some point you had cried, begging them to fuck you. 

That evening you were sitting on Geralt’s lap, your lip pulled between your teeth as he gently grinds you down on his bulge. Stopping whenever he felt you were too close. Logan lounged across from you, a cigar dangling carelessly between his smirking lips as his dark eyes watched you. Your gaze was pulled from Logan when Ari leant behind him on the chair. “Are you happy, Y/n–Belle?”

You hum, a bit dazed and distracted by the tingles zapping between your thighs. “Yes. I am very happy, I only wish I could see my father and know he made it home safe. I miss him very much.” 

Ari hummed in response, turning as if he’s searching for something. Geralt continues his torture on you, making your head fall back as you near your orgasm again, whining when he stops, taking it away. “There is a way.” You blink, trying to focus on what Ari is saying. He moves toward you, handing you a magic mirror. In it, you see your father being locked away as the town gathered around, lit torches in their hands as they chant about killing the Beasts and saving you. An unhappy look crosses your face as you see Gaston leading it. “If you need, you may go if you like.” The Beasts didn’t want you to leave. 

You shake your head, “There is no point. There is a group already heading this way, it would be stupid of me to leave now.” Stupid Gaston always ruining your peace. Why was the man so adamant on marrying you? You stand, “I am going outside for a bit of fresh air, is that okay?” You could not think straight when in the same room as them, it was like all common sense flew out the window and the only thing you wanted was for them to use you. 

Ari nods, Logan and Geralt scowl when they hear about people coming to their castle. Geralt had seen the look on your face when seeing that man appear in the mirror, a plan forms and he decides to share it with his brothers. Who wouldn’t love a live show?

Your coat flows around you as you exit the castle, cold air immediately hitting you. You wander over to the blooming rose bushes, gently brushing your fingers over the petals. A sudden squeal escapes you as someone grabs you, putting their arms around you and whispering into your ear. “Hello, MY Y/n–Belle. So far from home, why not come back, huh? Come back and I’ll forgive you, Y/n–Belle, come back and we can marry.” Gaston’s voice caused unwanted shivers to roll through you, his was not the voice you wanted to hear nor the arms you wanted around you. 

“I will never marry you! Why can’t you get that through your thick head?!” You struggle against his grip, teeth clenched as your words come out rough. “You have gone mad, Gaston!” 

Gaston grinned evilly, “Good thing I don’t care, Y/n–Belle. Once I have killed the Beasts, you will be MINE.” You watched as the villagers tore through the castle’s doors, the sound of shouts and a fight breaking out can be heard over the howling wind. “Come. You shall take me to the Beasts, so that I can rid of them and claim you as my own.” His grip on your arm is bruising, dragging you past everyone and up the stairs. You didn’t know why he had chosen this direction, the castle was huge, there was no way he’d be able to find them so quickly… Unless he had been watching, waiting. 

“Ah huh! The Beasts! You are not as terrifying as her lunatic of a father said you were!” He pulls you closer to him, three sets of growls ripple through the air as they watch your face become pained. “I shall kill you at last, so that I can claim Y/n–Belle as my own.” 

“There’s three of us and one of you. What makes you think you can take us?” Geralt growls, his eyes firmly set on Gaston’s. You shivered, you didn’t know whether it was from fear or horniness. You felt yourself throb and nodded to yourself, definitely the latter. “I suggest you let go of our HoneyBelle.” 

Gaston chuckles, pulling a gun from. Well you don’t exactly know where? It was definitely not in his hand or anywhere really when he grabbed you. “This. I am the best hunter there is. I shall have all three of your heads mounted on my wall by morning.” It was a wonder how his head never exploded from how big his ego was. It was almost as big as well… Your mind began to drift again and you had to shake your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts, it wasn’t the time. 

The Beasts smirked, they had learnt to read your body well. Their Little one, Beauty and HoneyBelle was thinking inappropriately at an unfortunate time. You had come out of your daze in time to notice the designs on the wall come to life. Like a snake, the marble vines slithered across the floor and wrapped around Gaston’s leg. “What is this?!” He tries shaking his leg, letting go of you from the distraction. You squeak as arms pull you toward them, you look up to see Ari before he places you behind him. Gaston snarls, seeing you had gotten away. “You freaks! You think you can defeat me?! I AM THE GREAT GASTON!” He roared, but he was no match for a Beast's roar. 

Having shrunk into himself as Logan roared back, it allowed the vine to pull him into a room that was conveniently set up. It dragged him over to a chair placed in the middle of the room, the arms had strangely been taken off. Gaston was harshly placed down onto the chair, the vines wrapping around him and the seat, securing the angered hunter. “I will escape this foolishness and take Y/n–Belle as my own!” He struggles against the vines grip. 

The three Beasts stalk into the room, pulling you gently, but possessively along. Logan pulls you to stand in front of them, from Gaston’s perspective. You looked so tiny before them, you didn’t even look that tiny next to him and he was the tallest in the village. The Beasts towered over you, looking menacing to everyone but you. 

“You will see who she belongs to. Won’t he, Little one?” Your thighs press together, feeling yourself throb between them and you nod. “Take off your dress.” Your hands move shakily as you lift your dress over your head and gently toss it to your side, Gaston’s eyes widen as he finally gets to see what he’s been wishing for. Maybe the Beasts are going to let him have a taste before he kills them. He smirks at that thought, becoming cocky once more. Logan moves toward you, staring at the hunter as he grasps your breast, squeezing it before rubbing your hardened nipples. “You see this? See how she reacts to our touch?” He growls, everyone in the room watches as you whimper, eyes watering and thighs pressed tightly together. 

“Why don’t you go and lay on his lap, Little one.” He tells you, “On your stomach, no touching.” He glares at Gaston as he says the last part. Knowing in some way that the hunter would try and possibly slip through those vines like the slippery git he is. Logan’s paw hits your arse, pushing you forward with a slap. You squeal, timidly walking over to the bounded man, laying across his lap, the vines seem to welcome you instead of digging into you. 

You bite your lip as you watch the Beasts stalk forward, coming closer. You whimper as Ari kneels between your legs and Geralt stands above your head. Logan stands directly in the middle, staring down Gaston who greedily stares down at you, his mouth opens and everyone knows he’s about to say something, but a vine slithers up and covers it before he can speak. Wrapping itself around until he’s gagged and bound. 

“Such a pretty sight, Beauty. Are you ready to cum after all of this waiting? Hmm? We know we’ve been depriving you of it.” You moan at his words, not being able to respond or place your head down because you were too focused on the giant bulge in front of you. You throb at the sight, you could never get over how large they were. 

“It seems she can’t reply at the moment, Ari. Our girl is a bit dumbstruck.” Geralt tilts his head, looking at Gaston. “Whores, you understand right?” His golden-yellow eyes narrow as his gaze turns back to you. “Why don’t you take my cock out, HoneyBelle. Show this human what you prefer.” You whine, squirming in Gaston’s lap as you reach your hands out quickly, the Beasts chuckle at how desperate you are. 

You had only seen Ari’s cock, none of the other Beasts would give you the pleasure to see theirs. It felt like such a punishment when you could feel them, but you weren’t allowed to see. When you saw Ari’s you thought he was the biggest that you’ve ever seen, obviously you were wrong. Geralt seemed to at least be an inch longer, maybe more. Your eyes flickered over to Logan’s clothed cock, wondering if he was bigger than these two. 

Geralt moves your head back to him, your mouth falls open as he guides his member inside, forcing it in unlike Ari. Speaking of, the other Beast dives between your thighs, lapping up your arousal like a man starved. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the intense pleasure that shoots through you. Your moans vibrate around Geralt’s member, causing him to tilt his head back and let out a roar. He holds your head in place as he begins to thrust back and forth, fucking your mouth like it’s his own personal fleshlight. You drool from being used, allowing him to thrust in and out easier. 

Ari palms your arse and thighs, holding you close as he devours your sweet cunt. His tongue thrusts in and out of your glistening hole before switching to lick and suck your puffy clit, taking the little bead between his sharp canines. A giant grin appears on his face as your squeals can be heard around his brother’s cock, your squirms become frantic and your toes curl. He laps your sweet juices up, knowing he would never let you go after having tasted you. 

Gaston grunts, becoming disgusted with himself as he hardens at the sight, his growing bulge pushes against your stomach. Twitching as you continue to squirm against him. Logan’s glare sharpens as he notices. 

“Stop.” Everything ceases and you whine, tongue hanging out of your mouth, eyes crossed and cunt tingling as you wonder why the pleasure had been stopped. He waves his paw, gesturing for you to be pulled up. You squeal as Ari pulls you up, his large bulge presses into your back, quite close to your shoulders with how tall he was. “Are you getting off on our Little one?” The growl echoes throughout the room and goes straight to your cunt. 

Logan pulls you from Ari’s hold, holding your hip with one paw while the other pulls his pants down, releasing his thickened member. You feel it slap against your body and jolt, a gasp escaping you. You had a guess that he definitely was the biggest between the three. He grasps his throbbing member in his hold, stroking it as he directs his leaking tip against your sopping cunt. Logan holds eye contact with the defenseless hunter as he thrusts into you, stretching your walls wide. Your head falls back into his chest, no sounds escape your opened mouth as you are speechless. You swear you could see colours with how delicious the stretch felt, you had never felt so full before.

The Beasts and the hunter gulp as they see the bulge appear on your stomach, it slowly disappears as Logan pulls out slowly only to thrust back in. Your arms flail about as you try and find something to grip onto, your hands grab onto his biceps, arms and fur as he begins to pound into you. Growls fill the room as Logan picks up his brutal pace, slamming in and out of you like a wild animal. His grip on your hips tighten, canines bared as he lowers his head down to your exposed neck. 

“Logan!” His brother’s eyes widen as they go to stop him, but it’s too late. Logan latches onto your neck, sinking his canines into your flesh and growling as your warm blood seeps into his mouth. Your eyes roll back as your cunt clenched tightly around the Beast. Your back arches, nails digging into his flesh as you scream, cumming around him repeatedly. 

“Logan!” A different shout comes through. Not his brother’s, but yours. You cry his name as he continues to pull orgasms from your small body, fucking into you harder and faster until he pulls away from your neck and roars, thick ropes of cum shoot out of his thick, angry tip and coat your walls. Filling your tiny cunt to the brim, possibly even making its way into your stomach before it drips out, coating your thighs white. He suddenly feels weakened as he pulls out of you, he stumbles back and falls. Ari catches you as they stare at their brother wide-eyed.

“The curse! It must be the curse!” The brother’s exclaim, looking at each other before looking at you with wide grins. 

“Are you ready for more, Beauty?” You nod rapidly, already feeling desire take over as you think about these Beasts using you again. He pulls you over to the hunter, pressing you into the side of the chair, your breasts pushing into Gaston’s face, back arching as Ari grips onto you and you grip the chair tightly as he guides his throbbing member into your used cunt, his eyes roll back at the feel of how tight you are. “Fuck, Beauty. So perfect for us.” He leans forward, flattening his tongue against your wounded neck, licking up your blood before sinking his teeth in as he begins to pound into you, pushing you into the desperate man. Gaston is forced to suffer as your bare breasts press into him whilst you get fucked by another man. Ari towers over you, covering your whimpering form. His cock slides in and out of your fluttering hole with sharp thrusts, already feeling his end nearing. He slides his paw to your stomach, pressing on the bulge before continuing to travel down to your puffy clit and plays with it. 

You jerk, mouth falling open as your walls tighten around him and your juices flow out, coating him as you cum, your toes curl and your moans fill the room. Ari follows quickly behind, stuffing his cock deep inside of you as he lets go with a roar, filling you with his cum alongside his brother’s. You feel your stomach filling from a weird angle, as he slides out of you, you look down to see your stomach bulging a tiny bit. You whimper, your cunt pulsates as you move toward Geralt, looking up at him with wide eyes. Desperate to be filled again. Not noticing Ari slumping against the wall, his body draining. 

Geralt growls, gripping your throat between his clawed fingers. “You want more, HoneyBelle?” You nod, pouting. Your eyes glazed over. “What a slut you are.” He tuts, “I want to test something out first.” His golden-yellow eyes narrow as he slides his cock deep into your used cunt with one quick thrust. Watching your eyes roll back for possibly the twentieth time that night, he was surprised they hadn’t gotten stuck. He stills and you whine, clutching him, your hips move as you bounce yourself up and down his cock. His grip around your throat tightens. “I want you to watch, HoneyBelle.” You pout, looking at him before he turns your attention to poor defenseless Gaston. 

Your eyes widen as you watch the vines slowly remove themselves from his body, you clutch Geralt tightly as Gaston blinks, he slowly stands and with a vicious growl, he pulls out a dagger and launches himself towards the two of you. Your cunt tightens around the Beast and with wide eyes you watch as Geralt swipes his paw that isn’t gripping your throat, his claws dig deeply into the hunters throat, large slashes appear as Gaston’s body drops. His face permanently set in a shocked expression. You whimper, feeling yourself drip around Geralt’s member. 

You blink, looking innocently at his face as he smirks. “Just what I thought. You are a very nasty whore, HoneyBelle.” You clench around him, the paw that is marked with Gaston’s blood comes up and grips your face while the other moves down to hold onto your thighs. You felt so dirty, but in a good way. You don’t notice him moving you over to a wall, the vines from before slither over, wrapping around your wrists and ankles as they hold you open for all to see. Geralt grins, sliding his bloody paw down your body, leaving a trail of blood that mixes with your own. “I’m going to fuck you now, HoneyBelle. So.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Hard.” With his last word, the Beast begins to pound into you, splitting you open.

You scream and moan, your nails digging into your palms. You can’t help but struggle against the vines, wanting, NEEDING, something to hold onto. Your head hits the wall as your half–lidded eyes watch Geralt ruin you, fucking you like the wild Beast he is. His golden-yellow eyes never leave yours. Not until he leans forward and digs his canines into the very same spot Logan and Ari did, reveling in the taste of your blood, the feel of it flowing into him, dripping down his chin. 

The feeling of his cock splitting you open and his canines ripping through your flesh cause your vision to go white as you cum, squirting all over the Beast. Your arousal coats him, dripping down his thick member. Geralt growls, slamming into you harder and faster, his head now out from your neck, eyes watching you before he buries himself inside of you. Cumming deep into you, his gaze flickers down and he watches as your stomach bulges a bit more from being filled by three different types of cum. He grins, slowly thrusting as he emptied himself inside of you before pulling out and falling to the ground like his brother’s.

The vines don’t pull away, you hang against the wall. Your eyes flutter as your mind is dazed. You swear you see gold swirling around the three Beasts bodies, causing your brows to furrow as you try and blink away the cloudiness. You were saddened that in place of your Beasts were normal human men… You broke their curse. 

The three brother’s groan, slowly dragging themselves up from the floor. Their eyes scan each other before looking down at themselves, seeing their human selves. “Finally. The curse has been broken and I am no longer bound as a Beast.” You whimper, causing their eyes to shoot toward you.

Ari moves over, hands skimming your soft body. “Hello, Beauty.” You frown. 

They were handsome, you weren’t blind. All three of them looked different to each other and their animal form. Ari with medium length brown hair and pretty blue eyes, a bushy beard covering some of his face. Logan with short dark brown hair that somehow had styled small horns on top and hardened blue eyes, a slight beard covering his face. Then there’s Geralt, different from the two with his long white hair and golden eyes, a five o’clock shadow rests on his face. You stared at the brothers. They were gorgeous for humans, somewhat god-like but deep down, you desired the Beasts within them. Somehow, it made them… More.  

Geralt smirks at his work. “I am not going to lie, I will miss being a Beast.” Logan grunts at his brother’s words. The vines finally unravel from your wrists and ankles, allowing Ari to catch you and carry you over to the bed. 

You would later learn that the men wouldn’t stay just men, the Beast still lived within, especially when they tasted your sweet blood before the curse was broken.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[cinnbar-bun]

Affinity (Various OP Characters x Reader)

Characters: Brook, Buggy, Beckman, Crocodile, Zoro, Mihawk, Corazon, Shanks, Law

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~4k

A/n: Reader is GN! I kinda made this after hearing about a special thing in my religion, and decided I wanted to do this. I of course made it more romantic in nature than the original idea goes, but hey, romance! I had my followers choose 7 originally but it went to 9, which is a very lucky number in my religion so maybe it was a sign? Who knows! Please enjoy <3

Tagging: @fanaticsnail @gingernut1314 @undeadeurydice @i-am-vita @kiribuchi @therosietoesy (sorry, I forgot who asked for Law my bad)

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There is a belief that before you are born, you were once a soul that had existed with other souls. Souls who had an affinity for each other would find that affinity carried in their time as a human. Souls who repelled each other would find that distaste carried over as well. Perhaps it was preordained, fate, destiny- whatever you’d call it. Regardless, it seems your soul has met with someone who once had an affinity for you…

Brook

Being an undead figure unable to pass on was not what Brook had in mind. In some ways, he was grateful for another chance at life, another chance to do what he previously was too dead to finish. Albeit, being a pile of bones did have its drawbacks.

While he could still function and do things many humans did, fact was, he was anything but. One look at him would easily make him stand out as something like a freak of nature.

Skeletons cannot love and be loved like a human. He could hold, but could not be held like a human. Admittedly, it had bothered him on occasion, but he always tried to brush it off with a simple hum or shrug. After all, he had his friends and crewmates- and he had a promise to continue fighting for. That should be enough.

But he couldn’t stop his eyes (if he had any) from wandering… couldn’t stop the way his mind wondered…

Just what could it be like if I too could fall in love?

Ah, but that’s such a silly thing for a skeleton to consider. Who could ever love the undead remains of someone long forgotten?

He’d practically given up on such silly notions like love or a relationship- it didn’t fit his current predicament.

So Brook focused on his music and his performances instead. He held up his violin and decided to waste some time on this sunny day playing for his audience of a few blue birds chirping at this green park. It was beautiful and reminded him of his day with the Rumbar Pirates- agh, nostalgia was always his weakest attribute, he thinks.

His fingers drift along the strings of the instrument, peacefully playing his weary heart away. He doesn’t recognize he has another guest until he hears slow clapping.

“What?” He turns his head, surprised to see you on the bench, smiling and clapping.

“That was lovely,” you comment. Time slows still and your eyes meet, shining (e/c) eyes with hollow black sockets.

If he had skin, perhaps he would’ve been red or sweating buckets. As a skeleton, he was not able to do things. But Brook was still a man through and through, and he couldn’t help but freeze at seeing the way your eyes were soft and full of admiration.

“I’m glad you thought so. Music is my pride and joy.”

“I can tell,” you reply. “I felt like I forgot to breathe for a moment when I heard that. I’m sorry for watching, though, if you weren’t looking for an audience.”

“N-no, actually it was…” he was too caught up in the way his soul was resonating and burning within him. “I appreciate it actually. Would you like me to play a song for you?”

“Would you? I’d love to hear more!”

Buggy

Buggy never believed in things like soulmates or fairy tales or blah blah blah- it was all junk! The only thing he ever could trust was treasure- shiny, bright, treasure! What else did a pirate need or want?

Is what he would say out loud- Buggy, even at a young age, was secretly a romantic who refused to let himself be swept up in the sentiment. When him and Shanks would sail together on Roger’s ship, Shanks would often ask what he thought about love.

Unlike Buggy, Shanks was pretty honest and confident about his assertions. Buggy would stumble and try to keep the bravado up, pretending as if he didn’t secretly yearn for a person who could look past his red nose and maybe possibly sorta kinda like him? Was that too much to ask? If you were Buggy, the answer was yes, because he would never allow himself the chance to be soft or vulnerable with someone. Especially not when he was already so sensitive about his looks and attitude. The thought of letting his guard down to be loved terrified him- what if they left? What if they made fun of him, too?

It was just too much for his fragile ego, so he brushed it aside and continued his hunt for treasure.

“Now where the hell am I?” He yelled, tilting the map in his hand left and right, as if that would somehow make his destination clearer. “Kinda crappy treasure map is this?”

He glared and shoved the map back in his pocket as he stomped around this town. He hadn’t ever bothered to come to this place before, so everything was new for him. He glared at the kids who were pointing at his nose to scare them off (mission accomplished), but his foul attitude still didn’t lessen.

As Buggy turned a corner, he accidentally rammed into someone. They shrieked, and his hat fell off his face and covered his eyes.

“Watch it, will ya? I’m walkin’ he…” he pushed his hat back up and came face to face with perhaps the most gorgeous person he’s ever met. His mouth was wide open, gawking at you as you gave an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you there,” you said sheepishly.

“Y-yeah it’s… it’s cool. No biggie,” he mumbled in a daze.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he returned to normal. “I mean, yeah, totally.”

You chuckle at his behavior, and something within Buggy’s chest makes it feel like there’s a million butterflies flapping inside his ribcage. He can’t help the dumb grin on his face as he laughs along.

“Sorry again, sir. I’ll keep an eye out for you next time,” you wink and begin walking away, making Buggy flabbergasted. N-next time? Was that a promise? He didn’t even realize what he was thinking before he turned around and tried to jog back to you.

“H-hey, wait up-!”

Beckman

Beckman was fairly ambivalent to the idea of a “soulmate” or “affinity”. Sure, he humored his often childish captain with those notions, but the fact was, Beckman was simply a sailor at heart. He didn’t think being “stuck” to someone was the life he wanted, and he was fairly sure a sane, rational person would not want to be the lover of a first mate to perhaps one of the most infamous pirate crews on the sea.

Now, this would imply you were sane and rational, and this would also imply that he was also not a sucker for you. Perhaps that was what made him attracted to you in the first place, or maybe it was something that gave him the idea that his captain wasn’t so off base.

When it came to you, Beckman was eager, a bit too eager, the others would joke. Whenever you called, he came running and answering like a loyal servant. Whenever you wrote, his lips would form a large smile while he refused to let the others look at the letter you sent. Whenever he was away from you for long periods of time, he drank a bit too much.

It was common place enough for the others to notice and tease him about, even if Beckman was adamant there was nothing there. You guys were just… friends, or something ambiguous like that. You didn’t need a label for your relationship. This was completely normal, you were normal, he was normal- nothing was out of the ordinary, so if they would please stop asking and make him confront those pesky feelings he-

Maybe he had a problem. He never felt this way for anyone else he encountered. You knew of his philandering, not seeming to care all that much, but damn it, even he couldn’t continue that streak because his mind would get occupied with you, you, you. Love was too complicated. Maybe this was the alcohol talking. Or Shanks getting in his head about “souls being attuned” or whatever spiritual jazz the red-haired captain would spout.

No, it really made sense, all things considered. There was no one else but you to make him quit fooling around with others on the islands he stopped at. There was no one else but you who invaded his thoughts, who plagued him day and night with those eyes, that smile, the way you hated that red cologne he once bought and-

Oh dear god, he was deep into this, wasn’t he?

Crocodile

Love? Spirits? Souls? Soulmates?

Yeah right, add that to the list of stupid things weak poets say to make their miserable lives have some meaning. You could jump through a million hoops to try and blame encounters and relationships on things like “destiny” or “fate”. To a man like Crocodile, however, “destiny” was just something he could control. Whether through bribes of money or through making them submit with his fearsome powers, “destiny” was nothing but another means of his affluence.

Only those who were weak and had nothing could not control their lives.

Something like love was a crutch used by those who had nothing to pretend they did. What was love to power? What was love to wealth? To fame? To greatness?

Love was the longest-running scam that Crocodile almost could be impressed with, if not for the fact that the sentiment around love made him want to gag.

Except, now he was actively looking for jewelry to buy you, flowers to deliver to your doorstep, and outfits to clothe you in for when you visited him.

It was almost disgusting how Crocodile was eagerly awaiting for your next arrival, for when he could be able to see you on the street or at his casino so he could see that face he adored so much. Those eyes that made him want to melt, that voice that echoed in his head, that smile that made him want to have an image of you adorned on his wall so he could always see it.

Something, he could never place what it was, drew him to you. Something made you seem to stand out to him in ways that no other could. He was Crocodile- world famous business man and pirate- he had no shortage of people throwing themselves at him or fearing him. Only to you was he trying his luck attempting to woo you to give him that look he loved. Only for you was he making excuse after excuse to continue seeing you, lying over and over that he had a reason to use you, that it was just a part of some master plan.

He exhaled another puff of his cigar and rubbed his temples.

Gods, why was he acting this way? He was Crocodile. Not a lovesick teenage boy, not some lonely man, not some simpering-

“Sir, (Y/n) has arrived.” His ears perked up as he quickly slicked back his hair.

“Is that so? Send them up,” he orders, grabbing his expensive cologne to spray onto him again.

Zoro

Zoro had never heard of the idea of soulmates or anything like that. When one lives, breathes, and dies by the sword, something like “soulmates” is just comical. He doesn’t need love to become the best swordsman. He didn’t need love to teach him how to pick up a sword and kill another with it. That was, in fact, the complete opposite of love.

Survival of the fittest, he thought. Nothing more, nothing less. You kill for bounties, bounties that pay, pay that gives you a chance to eat food. Nothing more to it. He never did more than he needed to, never worked harder for anything outside of his sword training and hunting. What else did a swordsman need to live?

He was currently drinking his fill at a local tavern of some random village he washed out upon. He didn’t care to get names, not when he was always moving, always killing, always leaving. “Zoro” was a passing chance encounter few got to ever meet or understand. He was fine with that. A bounty hunter didn’t need attachments. A bounty hunter definitely didn’t need someone weighing him down.

At the tavern, a few rowdy pirates were acting up. Yelling obscenities, throwing food and liquor at one another, making rude gestures- nothing out of the ordinary for drunk pirates. Zoro had no business with them, so he ignored them, continuing to order pint after pint.

It wasn’t until he heard a crash that he looked up. You were angrily yelling at one of the pirates who threw a drink at you, and his mates were drawing their weapons. It was clear you were outnumbered, so you looked around the bar for anyone that would help.

Normally, Zoro wouldn’t bother, figuring you dug your own grave by messing with pirates like that. However, when he glanced to your eyes, he found himself… staring. Lost. Entranced?

He didn’t know why he felt like he should protect you, but he always had a good intuition when it came to these sorts of things. He sighed, placed his mug down, then stood up, drawing his swords from their sheathes.

“Zoro,” he stated. A rare thing for him to admit so casually to a normal person. The pirates heard his name and shriveled up in fear. Zoro didn’t pay them any mind, instead tapping his sword against his shoulder impatiently. “Need me to shut these guys up?”

Mihawk

If you had asked a young Mihawk about love, he would have most certainly called you a fool for daring to think of such illogical things instead of focusing on one’s own strength and potential. While he had heard of the sentiments about love and soulmates before, he didn’t place much value into it. Love was a distraction from the training he could have done. Love was a waste of time. Love was just for weak-minded people who let themselves be vulnerable or gentle with another. Love wasn’t for people like him.

Which was why he was now trying to instill the opposite into his foolhardy protege, Zoro. Yes, yes, unfortunately, Mihawk was proven wrong from his earlier ways of thinking, and ever since then, he’s been doing his best to be a good man for you.

“I didn’t think a guy like you would have a partner…” Zoro would mumble.

“Of course I would. Do I not look like a suitable husband?” Mihawk replied as he was sipping his wine. “A marriage is only an aspect of your training and power.”

“How does cooking dinner help you train?” Zoro raised a brow, not believing a word.

“If you cannot handle a routine for even the most mundane and domestic of tasks, you cannot expect to be disciplined enough to train. If you think something like making your love a cup of tea or folding laundry is too hard or not worthy enough, you are not worthy enough to hold a sword.”

Zoro nodded, impressed by Mihawk’s reasoning (or maybe impressed at how you somehow made the world’s greatest swordsman so whipped and happy to make you dinner).

“Well, when you put it like that,” Zoro scratched his cheek, looking back at his mentor to see him staring at you longingly from the window. You and Perona were outside picking some of the vegetables at the garden, an activity you insisted upon doing despite Mihawk’s protests. You and the young lady were joking and laughing about something Perona said, and Mihawk sighed.

“Something wrong?” Zoro asked, unsure what Mihawk was thinking with his stoic appearance.

“No, not at all,” Mihawk shook his head, taking another sip.

“Then why did you sigh like that?” Zoro questioned. A smirk grew on Mihawk’s lips as he chuckled, continuing to look at you. You… you who were so special, who had become the apple of his eye, his strength, his joy, his passion.

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand it right now, my student,” Mihawk closed his eyes. “Fate is… it’s simply a humorous thing.”

Corazon

He always was a sensitive soul, despite his outer appearance and harsh exterior. But even as a child, Law could tell something was up with Corazon.

“Why are you always looking at them?” Law grumpily asked, folding his arms and raising a brow at his benefactor.

“Hm? At who?” Corazon dumbly responded, cigarette in his lips.

“You know who I mean! Don’t act stupid!” Law shouted. Corazon chuckled and exhaled the smoke.

“Sorry, gotta be more specific.”

Of course, Corazon knew who Law was referring to. It wasn’t like Corazon had hidden his affection for you, but that was for another time. You were something special, something that Corazon yearned for but could never have. Not when Doflamingo’s influence was so large and looming over his life. But even if Corazon himself could not love you so freely, he always did like to tell the young boy stories. Of course, Law, being a jaded little boy, had never really given thought to such things like “soulmates” or “souls knowing each other”. That was stupid and impossible.

Corazon liked to believe, though. It comforted him. It made him feel happy that, hey, even if this life perhaps didn’t work out for him and you, at least he had known you before. At least he was able to see you again. At least he got you in his life for a moment, even if it would end in nothing but heartache and pain. At he least, for just a bit, he got to see that smile, those eyes, and feel your hands over his.

It made his life a little less hard, a little less dull. The romanticism that despite Doffy meddling in his life, Corazon still had a chance with you, was meant to know and be with you… well, that was plenty enough for him. It made him happier, too, knowing Law was perhaps a soul he was acquainted with before. It made him feel like he was always going to be guaranteed love and kindness with you and Law, even if the world was unkind to him.

Yes, this new family he had found was perhaps where he belonged the most. With you and Law by his side, there was nothing more he could ask for.

Shanks

“You’re obsessed.”

“Am not!” Shanks yelled childishly at Beckman, before turning back to face the island they were planning on docking at soon. The wide smile on his face made it clear he was beyond excited to be there, and the other men chuckled.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on running off to see em?” Yassop asked, knowing the answer.

“Oh, stop bugging about it! It’s just a little reunion with (Y/n), not anything crazy,” Shanks waved off. He breathed into his palm and winced at the smell of his breath. “Crap, does anyone have any mouthwash?”

“I don’t think anything can get that stench out. If they hadn’t run away cuz of your smell before, I think you’re good now!”

“Haha, very funny guys. Besides, it’s just between friends. Nothing weird.”

Of course, that was a bit of a fib, but who doesn’t tell little white lies? Surely he’d be forgiven for saying that by whomever was possibly in charge of making this happen?

Shanks, even with his overwhelming power and influence, did believe in superstition. It would be foolish not to, especially in such a dangerous world that a pirate inhabits. Sure, some of them were old wive’s tales from scared-straight sailors, but he did find them having some merit. He didn’t like to discount the seemingly impossible, not when it made even the most outlandish things possible.

He believed it was fate he got to meet Buggy and be a part of Roger’s crew. He believed it fate he met little Luffy in Foosha Village. He also believed it was fate he saved you that day. Some things just “made sense” like that to Shanks. It certainly made his life more interesting while also giving him a chance to bother you as always.

“Oh, come on, you can’t really kick out your soulmate, can you?” Shanks would tease.

“Soulmate?” You laugh. “Is this your attempt at proposing to me?”

“Hey, if you’d like it to be, I can absolutely make it happen,” Shanks replied, an earnest look in his eyes. You smile at him- crap, how do you always manage to make him ache and miss you? It’s gotta be fate, because no way could anyone have his heart in tight vice like this.

“Well… if you’re insisting, Captain,” you begin, smirking at him. “Why not take me with you? As your soulmate.”

Shanks’s eyes widened and the look on his face was a mixture of bewilderment and excitement.

“You know I can always make room for you,” he answered, trying to steady himself.

“Good. Although, we could share a room.”

“You drive a hard bargain, dear,” he chugs his rum. “Cheers to us!”

Law

Since he was a young boy, Law always tried to remain by himself. You couldn’t really trust anyone in a world of piracy and violence like that. Corazon, of course, always recommended otherwise. He even shared stories about a place where souls all were together.

It didn’t sound plausible or even remotely make sense. How would you even know if your soul was supposedly affiliated with someone?

It had been years since those days and the loss of Corazon, and even though he tried his hardest not to, Law still kept those stories in his mind. They were pointless and silly, but they were something Corazon believed wholeheartedly, even saying it was a miracle he got to meet a young Law. In some ways, Law felt somewhat similarly.

Love wasn’t for someone like Law. Too damaged, too cold, too logical, too afraid to ever let that feeling grow. It was how he stayed and remained for his life, and how he was planning on operating for the rest of time.

Until you, quite literally, crashed into him.

Jeez, you had to be a pest. Or a virus. Or a parasite. Something like that, but gosh, you were contagious. When you smiled, he found himself wanting to smile back. When you talked, he found himself thinking over every word you spoke in great detail. Maybe he was overthinking things, maybe when you said you were happy to have met him that was just you being friendly. Or something.

Almost always his mind drifted to you, feeling a certain way for you that he didn’t feel with the others in his crew or from the Straw Hats. You were different.

Perfect? Maybe. Definitely too good for someone like him, he’d think. But even with that self-loathing and apprehension, he found himself being drawn to you like a magnet.

Cora, if this is what you meant before…

Damn it, now he was letting things like soulmates and affinity cloud his judgment. He was a grown man, not a young boy, he didn’t need those silly delusions and ideas growing in his head and making him think he had a chance with you.

“Tora-o!” Luffy called. “Come here!!”

“No,” Law grumbled.

“Law,” you asked right after. “Do you mind helping me with this?”

“...yes,” he replied, stoically walking up to you to see what your problem was. Luffy gawked and pouted from the side, while a few of the others chuckled at Law.

[littlechivalry]

Wedding Bell Blues

(no Upside Down AU, meet-ugly, Baker!Steve/wedding singer!Eddie)

--

Eddie is a wedding musician and it's pretty great actually. It's not the rock star life he dreamed of but it's a damned sight better than most people including him expected of Al Munson's little boy.

Eddie gets to play music. For a living. And he does pretty well. He gets to dress up a little snazzy. He gets free fancy food and a couple of drinks. And he gets to shoot his shot with anybody that looks like fun.

He's good at it too. That's the best part. His younger years spent being a low level drug dealer and a high level weirdo mean he can read a room in an instant. He gets the playlist from the bride usually, presses for some other song ideas, and he can tell who to take requests from at six paces. And who to ignore from across the room.

It's a good time.

Unfortunately not all ceremonies can be winners and based on the tension Eddie has felt from almost everyone involved in today's wedding it was going to be a tough gig.

Everything starts in an hour but Eddie isn't on until the reception so he has plenty of time to grab a smoke before soundcheck. He knows the venue pretty well and there's an alcove next to the vendor loading area. Nice flowers, a decent bench, and it's nowhere near the dumpsters.

This venue butts up against a small patch of woodland and Eddie wonders if he might have time to check it out, see if there's anything inspiring. He doesn't hike but he does enjoy a walk in nature.

Before he gets the chance a baby blue van with 'Steve's Sweets' painted across the side pulls up, blocking his sight line.

He mourns the loss of his view right up until the driver pops the door open and climbs out.

Oh, the beauties nature provides.

Acid wash jeans which under any other circumstances Eddie would laugh at are lovingly hugging possibly the finest ass he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

The rest of the picture - when he can drag his attention away - is pretty choice too. A soft looking pink sweater, sleeves pushed up to expose sun bronzed skin making Eddie idly wonder if the man is that tan all over.

The crowning glory is a gorgeous head of hair framing a face that Eddie can only describe as pretty.

Eddie tries to turn his attention back to his cigarette. Admiring someone is one thing, leering like a creep is entirely different.

He takes a last drag and drops the filter on the gravel, grinding it out under his feet. Mentally he says farewell to the handsome stranger and turns to go back inside.

Eddie takes two steps before a suit clad man comes out of the building and pushes past him in a rush.

"Steven."

The man's not yelling, but his voice is the kind of loud that demands to be heard.

Eddie turns to watch as the man approaches the van and the other guy, Steve apparently, standing in front of it.

"What the hell are you doing here dressed like that."

Eddie should go inside. This isn't his business. But one of the perks of working weddings was the drama and this was very promising.

He stays where he is, standing just in front of the door. In case either man looks in his direction Eddie actually mimes patting at his jacket like he is looking for his smokes.

"I'm delivering a cake, Dick. And if it wasn't for Diana I wouldn't even be doing that much. She deserves to get something good out of this day."

Eddie bites back a smile, lowering his head a little so he can still watch what was happening ideally without being noticed.

"You will refer to me as father. I believe I have earned at least that much respect."

Eddie feels his eyebrows rise. This kind of drama was another part of why he likes weddings. Better than the soap operas he watches with Uncle Wayne.

"Sure," Steve snorts. "Tell you what, I'll compromise," and he continues, "Riiichaaaard."

"Grow up, Steven. You were invited here as a guest. You had better have a tuxedo in that stupid truck of yours, the ceremony starts in an hour."

"I was hired to bake a cake. Part of my fee includes delivery. That is literally the only reason I'm here. You and the future ex-Mrs Harrington will have to celebrate without me. Try not to cry yourself to sleep about it."

"You little asshole," Richard snarls. "You think you're better than me. You think I wanted you here? You owe me your presence. I have important people coming to this wedding and I need them to see my dutiful son at my side."

The baker laughs, a low nasty chuckle that sends a perverse shiver down Eddie's back.

"Tell you what, Dick, I'm booked up today but I'll come to your next wedding." Eddie looks up to see Steve is grinning, bright and as sharp as a knife. "I'll even get you a toaster."

Eddie lurches in place as he sees Richard lunge towards Steve. He is too far away to stop the man but he has to do something.

Before he takes a step the door swings open again and a petite woman comes rushing out.

"Richard?"

Eddie watches as she runs forward tugging at the satin bathrobe she is wrapped in. She freezes a few feet away from what had been brewing into a nasty fight.

"Steve? You're here-- oh, but your suit! Richard? What's going on?"

The older man doesn't turn around, doesn't seem to notice her at all but Eddie watches Steve gingerly move until he is standing between his father and the woman.

"Hey Diana," he says softly. "Sorry you had to see this, dad and me just have a difference of opinion. Everything's fine."

Eddie feels something in him clench. He is very familiar with the tone in Steve's voice. He had heard it from his uncle Wayne to his dad when he was a little kid. It is soft but firm, implacable. Eddie isn't sure exactly what is coming but he can tell Steve knew and that it would be bad.

The venue usually had at least two security patrolling the grounds, more if the reception was expected to be contentious. Eddie doesn't know where they are right now but hopefully not far.

"See what you've done Steven? God, you're useless."

"Richard, don't say that," Diana says, her voice rising.

The older man is turning from pink to red and Eddie can see Steve moving slowly, shifting his father's attention to him.

"That's me, Richard. Useless Steve. Flunked out of college and he bakes cookies like some kind of fairy. You sure you want to parade your failure of a son in front of the hoi polloi?"

Eddie hears Diana's gasp from where he's standing. "Steve, what are you talking about? Richard what's going on?"

Richard turns his glare on her and Eddie feels himself moving forward almost against his own will. He's not sure what he'll do when he gets there but he's never been the bystander type.

Steve just laughs. Bright and angry. "I'm not sure what my father told you about our relationship but we don't have one."

"No," she says. "Your father-- he told me-- "

When Eddie met her a few weeks ago he had seen a confident, charming woman that knew exactly what she wanted and was excited to be married. Now she looks confused, maybe even scared.

Eddie has gotten closer to this whole altercation than he wanted to be but since he is there and it looks like Steve and Richard are busy trying to glare holes in each other Eddie steps up to Diana and lightly grasps her elbow.

She startles and turns to face him. Her eyes are wide, wet and staring.

"Mr. Munson," she asks, softly.

Eddie tries to smile. "Mr. Munson is my uncle, ma'am. It's Eddie. Let's get you out of here, okay? Back inside."

Eddie is able to gently guide her a few steps away. He hates turning his back on the other two men but he needs to get Diana out of reach for whatever is about to happen.

"I dont understand," the bride mutters. "Steve used to be such a sweet boy. Mr. Harrin-- Richard. Oh, I'm so silly. Richard. He said-- this is so embarassing."

Her voice is pitched and tight and if she isn't crying yet she would be soon. Eddie resolves to get her inside and into the arms of literally any friendly face.

"Hey," Eddie says. "Let's just--" he scrambles for a name. Anna? Annie? "Amy, right? Your maid of honor? Let's get you to her, okay. You can sit down."

Diana nods.

Behind him he can hear Richard and Steve hissing noxious words back and forth. There is no shouting but the air is heavy and hot with anger. Even though he was outside Eddie feels like he can't breathe.

Eddie gets Diana to the door, hadn't realized how close they really were, maybe 30 feet if that. It's open, anxious faces framed in weathered oak. He hands Diana off to her Maid of Honor who quickly sweeps the woman deeper into the hall and then he nods to Patricia Abernathy, the event space manager.

"Think we're gonna have a cancellation," he says, nodding towards the departing woman.

She rolls her eyes. "Can't say I'm surprised. I had a bad feeling about this one."

Eddie scoffs. "You have a bad feeling about all of them."

He turns to face where the two men are still in a stand off in front of the van. "You're not wrong though, I think. At least I hope they cancel."

Patricia snorts. "We got the deposits locked down and the contract is airtight so if they cancel we still get fifty percent of the remaining fee. I'll take that for the rest of the day off."

"You got a date, Patty? And it's not me? You're breaking my heart."

"Ha," she says flatly. "That pretty boy is more your type and from the way he's talking you're in with a chance. Now you keep an eye on those two. Security is on their way, we'll see if they can get here before these guys start really butting heads."

Eddie nods. It isn't the first time he had been called on to help manage fractious families.

He turns back in time to see Richard take a swing at Steve. The younger guy steps back out of the way and Eddie can hear his mocking laugh as far away as the door.

He moves closer to the two of them. Eddie isn't going to get in the middle of the fight but maybe if he reminds them there are other people around that might be enough to calm them down.

He watches Richard lunge forward and swing again. This time Steve can't move away fast enough and the blow glances off of his cheek.

"Hey," Eddie calls, now jogging towards them. "Hey, knock it off! You wanna fight take it somewhere else!"

Steve turns to face Eddie, opening his mouth as if he was going to say something but all that comes out is a low grunt as Richard hits him in the shoulder and shoves him to the ground.

Eddie throws himself forward, pushing Richard away. "What do you think you're doing," he shouts in the man's face but Richard doesn't seem to hear, pressing back against Eddie.

"You little bastard," Richard shouts at his son. "You're worthless! I don't know why I bothered."

"Go to hell," Steve replies.

That seems to make Richard even angrier which Eddie hadn't thought was possible. He isn't sure he will be able to hold him off much longer.

"Hey, what's going on here," a low even voice calls. It is the venue security guard, his partner just behind him with a hand on his radio.

Eddie feels himself relax and then stumbles back as Richard pushes him aside to fall on his son again.

Eddie turns to see both guards trying to pull the older man away as he continues to hit his son, screaming obscenities.

Not sure how to help, Eddie stands by. When he sees an opening he lunges forward and takes hold of Steve's shoulders, pulling him back and away.

The younger man fights against him at first, eyes closed and arms up in front of his face.  Eddie figures he probably didn't know whose hands are on him.

"Hey. Hey. It's me, Eddie. Shit. I work here. You're safe, security has your dad. You're safe."

Eddie steps back, loosening his grip on Steve but still keeping one hand on his shoulder, trying to sooth him.

A few feet away Richard is still twisting, trying to get free and attack his son again, but Eddie can see the guards have a good hold on him and it doesn't look like they will be letting go any time soon.

As Steve calms down Eddie lets go of his shoulder, instead crouching next to him. "You doing okay? I saw you had you hands up but he got a few hits in."

Steve lowers his arms and sits upright. He twists his neck back and forth and shifts his shoulders before opening his eyes and looking up at Eddie. "I'm okay. I'm fine. God, it's a soap opera isn't it? Fuck."

Eddie lets himself drop into a seat next to the other man. They both watch in silence as the guards march Steve's father around the corner to the front of the event hall.

"You know the bride? Diana," the guy asks. "She was my babysitter. When I was eleven."

"Oof," Eddie says. "So she was--"

"Seventeen then, and now it's been twenty years for her and about three wives for him."

"Scandalous," Eddie murmurs. He sees Steve smile and feels relieved. "What will people say. The 'hoi polloi' I believe you called them?"

Steve snorts. "A crowd of empty suits that exist solely to tell my dad how respected he is. Will he get arrested?"

"Maybe," Eddie says. "I think that might be up to you. It's assault at least."

"Ugh," Steve says, rubbing his face. "That's all I need. I'm trying to get him out of my life."

"Well," Eddie says. "I can attest that jail is very good at keeping deadbeat dads out of your life."

Steve starts laughing and then winces, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

"Shit, you are hurt," Eddie says, scrambling to his feet. "Do you need an ambulance? Patty probably called 911 by now."

Steve waves him off. "I'm fine. This is not my first fight and my old man hits-- well, I was gonna say 'like a girl' but then my best friend would kick my ass and I'm way more scared of her," Steve says, laughing softly.

He looks up at Eddie and holds out his free hand. "You gonna help me up? Or is chivalry dead?"

"Chivalry," Eddie repeats. "You a damsel in distress?"

"I might as well be," Steve says. "Now come on."

Eddie laughs and reaches down, gently guiding Steve back to his feet. He feels the man's weight leaning on him for a few seconds and despite the circumstances Eddie has to admit Steve feels good in his arms.

Once he is steady Steve steps back and Eddie lets him go.

Steve moves to the van and leans up against the metal surface. Eddie walks over to join him.

"So," Steve says. "What next?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I honestly don't know. The wedding is canceled, for sure. For today at least."

"Just for today? You think she'll marry him still?"

Eddie shrugs. "I have no idea. I wouldn't but then I wouldn't have said yes in the first place."

Steve leans back, tapping his head against the van a few times before he turns back to Eddie. "You know the worst part? This was my last delivery. Now, I have to deal with this stupid cake. Three tiers of lemon and raspberry." He laughs. "Do you think a homeless shelter will take a wedding cake?"

Eddie grins. "I don't see why not. At least something good will come out of today."

Steve looks up towards the hall. "I feel like I should say something-- to Diana, I mean. She was always really nice to me, she deserved better than this."

"I have found that good or bad people rarely get what they deserve. You don't really owe her anything but I can't fault the impulse." Turning towards the hall, Eddie gestures for Steve to follow him. "Just-- just don't apologize for him? Okay?"

Steve walks in silence for a few steps before he coughs roughly. His voice is thick and choked and he coughs again. "I, uh, I stopped apologizing for him a long time ago. His faults are his own. I just wish I didn't get dragged into it."

Eddie laughs. "I know that song."

"Yeah," Steve asks.

Eddie nods. They are at the door and he pulls it open for the other man, gesturing him in with a bow.

Steve stops in the doorway as Eddie stands up again. He is framed by the light inside and the scent of hothouse roses comes drifting out into the open air. Eddie can picture him suddenly in that moment standing at a balcony limned by moonlight.

"Hey Sunshine," Eddie says softly. "Buy me a drink and we can trade stories?"

Steve smiles. "Yeah," he says, with a small laugh. "Sure, why not." He holds up his hands, still dirty and scraped from the asphalt. "Help me get cleaned up and let me say something to Diana. Then we can talk."

Eddie nods, reaches out, and places his hands gently over Steve's. "Sounds good to me."

[littlelamy]

hey I don't know if you do requests but I got an idea after reading the dress starkey x popstar! reader. So you know how sabrina carpenter does like sex positions in one of her songs during each concert, she say 'have you tried this one' during juno. I had the idea of reader singing that song but ringing out drew and doing the position 🤭 Obvs drew is a busy guy so each time he goes to her show she drags him up to the front for a different position. please thanks sorry xxx

i hope i wrote it right! ⭐️ the concert was reaching its peak energy as the night drifted closer to the much-anticipated performance of “juno.” the lights dimmed, casting the stadium in a warm, dusky glow as the first notes of the song thrummed through the speakers. the crowd roared in response, and you felt a familiar thrill of adrenaline spark in your chest. but tonight was different. tonight, you had something planned.

just down in the front row, your boyfriend, drew, leaned casually against the barricade, his tall frame relaxed as he looked up at you, eyes crinkling with a hint of amusement. he looked effortlessly cool—wearing a simple black tee and jeans, his hair a little messy from his quick arrival. despite his long day, he hadn’t missed the chance to make it to your show. you couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face as you spotted him. little did he know, he’d be in the spotlight soon enough.

“alright, everyone,” you announced into the mic, your voice carrying smoothly over the music. you shot a wink at the crowd, and their excitement grew, sensing what was coming. “i think we have a very special guest here tonight…drew, baby, how about you come up and help me out?”

the camera panned over the crowd, catching drew just as he raised a hand in mock reluctance, lips curved into a smirk that made the audience scream louder. he shrugged with a playful air, laughing as he accepted your invitation. security guided him up to the stage, and when he finally reached you, the two of you exchanged a look—a private, knowing glance that had the crowd erupting in anticipation.

you motioned to the single chair placed under a spotlight at center stage. “take a seat,” you said with a sly grin, and drew chuckled, eyeing you with that familiar glint of mischief. he settled into the chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he got comfortable, his gaze never leaving yours.

“so,” you purred into the mic, stepping in close as the beat continued to pulse around you, “have you tried this one?”

drew’s smirk deepened as he leaned back in the chair, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. “i think i could learn a thing or two,” he replied smoothly, his voice low enough to make your pulse quicken.

the crowd screamed as you straddled his lap, your hands resting on his shoulders as the music filled the stadium. the camera zoomed in, capturing the way drew’s hands instinctively moved to your waist, his fingers spreading to hold you securely. his expression softened, though his grin remained as he looked up at you, his gaze as steady as ever. from his vantage point, he was completely in the moment, focused only on you despite the sea of fans watching.

you leaned in close, your faces mere inches apart as you swayed to the beat, your bodies moving in perfect sync. drew’s hands were gentle but firm on your waist, anchoring you as you rolled your hips to the rhythm, the tension between you both crackling under the stage lights.

you caught his eye, biting your lip as you tilted your head, letting a little teasing smirk play on your lips. He matched your grin, that familiar look of challenge and affection mixing in his gaze as he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear, “think you can keep this up?”

with a laugh, you pushed the playfulness further, letting the music take over as you wrapped your arms around his neck, rolling your hips in rhythm, feeling the heat radiate between you two. the audience was in a frenzy, but you barely heard them; all you could focus on was the way drew’s eyes followed your every move, his gaze never breaking from yours.

at one point, the camera zoomed in on drew’s face, catching the way he glanced from your face to your hips, his smirk deepening as he gave a small shake of his head, amused, impressed, and just a little bit captivated. the screen above the stage flashed his expression to the entire crowd, and their response was instant—an eruption of cheers and laughter as they caught his reaction.

drew chuckled, his hands tightening just slightly on your waist as he whispered, “they’re not going to let me live this one down, are they?”

“guess not,” you replied with a grin, moving even closer until you could feel his breath on your cheek. you let the rhythm slow, leaning into him just a little more, your fingers playing at the collar of his shirt as you sang the chorus, your voice soft and intimate, as if the words were meant only for him.

he looked up at you, his gaze unwavering, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade. his hands traced slow, steady circles on your lower, his thumb brushing just under the fabric of your one piece, sending a shiver through you. you could feel the thrill radiating between you both, heightened by the audience’s anticipation.

as the song neared its climax, you leaned back slightly, arching with a graceful dip that had the crowd roaring. drew’s grip tightened just enough to hold you steady, his strength and warmth grounding you as you found your balance. he looked up at you with that same spark in his eyes, a mix of pride and admiration that made your heart skip.

when the song ended, you straightened up, breathless and flushed, grinning as you glanced back at him. he rose with you, giving your ass a quick, slap and gently grab before stepping back, flashing one last amused look at the audience as he left the stage.

backstage after the show, you found him leaning against the wall, waiting for you with a smirk and that familiar, endearing look in his eyes.

“so,” he murmured as you walked up to him, still riding the high of the performance. “think you’ll have a chair ready for me at the next show?”

you laughed, slipping your arms around his neck. “only if you’re willing to learn more moves,” you teased, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

drew’s grin softened as he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur. “for you? I’ll make time for as many shows as you want.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @dinakisser @rafecameroninterlude

[system-to-the-madness]

Bet ya - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Pairing: (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: fluff Word Count: 2 311 Warnings: alcohol, Reader kisses Wylan (oops, but no cheating), OCC Kaz, betting (not on money) Summary: Kaz makes a bet with you and doesn’t like the way it turns out for him Prompts: bet, game, constest

“You’d never win a bet against me.”

“Is that a bet?”

Kaz rolled his eyes at you, adjusting in the seat at the bar of the Crow Club. “Why are you so desperate to lose to me.”

“We don’t know if I’d lose,” you reminded him, tilting your head at him playfully.

“Why do I even bother,” he murmured, more to himself than you, but you still heard him over the noise of the guests, the music and the clinking of glasses and coins.

“Come on, Kaz,” you encouraged him, nudging the leg of his chair with your foot, knowing better than to touch him. “It’s a game!”

“A stupid game, and that’s Jesper’s specialty, not mine.”

“Indulge me, just this once. All the others played too!”

“What’s your current score, then?” Kaz wasn’t looking at you as he waved to the bartender for another glass of whiskey.

“Sooo… I won against Matthias,” you start counting, “lost to Nina and Inej, won against Wylan and the bet with Jesper is still ongoing. Currently it does look like he’s going to lose, though.”

With a sigh Kaz turned back to you, taking in your appearance. His blue eyes were cold as always, but you had learnt better than to be intimidated by them. Sure, he was a dangerous man, but in a relaxed situation like right now, considering how close you were, there was nothing you had to fear from him. For the time being.

“Fine,” he agreed eventually, rolling his eyes again as an excited grin spread over your face. “But first: who would you rather kiss, Wylan or Jesper?”

You, you wanted to say, but you were no idiot and certainly not drunk enough to answer that. Even if he wouldn’t mind you basically confessing your annoying little crush on him, even if he would want to kiss you too, he couldn’t. Not with the way he flinched at any form of physical contact or even the mental image of standing too close to someone.

Quickly you tore your thoughts back to his question. Really, you had no desire to kiss either of the young men, even more so because you knew they were going out. But you had the distinct feeling one of their names would annoy him more to hear than the other.

“I don’t want to kiss either of them,” you told him honestly.

“Assume you are being forced. Who would you choose?”

Worrying your lips between your teeth, you glanced over at the table in the corner, where the rest of the crows were laughing together. Matthias sat in the very back, Nina cuddled into his side, Inej in safe distance at his other side with Wylan and Jesper on the bench opposite them.

“Do I have to choose?”

“Yes,” Kaz’s answer came cooly and not without a hint of pleasure at your discomfort.

“Jesper,” you eventually decided, just in time looking back at Kaz to see his face fall. Jackpot.

“And who of the two are you more scared of?”

“Scared of?” You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped over your lips. “Why would I be scared of either of them?”

“Maybe you upset them? Broke Wylan’s favourite flute, or Jesper’s gun…”

The way Kaz was looking at you now reminded you of why people were so scared of him. There was something truly… demonic- in the way he was watching you now. You were his mark and his whole focus was on trying to find a way to bring you down. You just wished his whole focus would be on you even without trying to drive you into ruin.

“I mean, Jesper has his guns, but Wylan has his explosives,” you thought out loud. “So, I’m gonna go with Wylan on this.”

“Hm, not ideal,” Kaz told you, his eyes flickering from you over to the table with his friends. You had about an idea what he was going to bet you on, you just didn’t know who he would choose, Jesper or Wylan.

“Don’t stress yourself out,” you joked, trying to overplay your sudden nervousness. “You don’t have to come up with a masterplan for a simple game of betting.”

“Who would I be if I didn’t,” Kaz asked, turning back to you with a devilish grin that made a shiver run down your spine. Jup, Matthias’ nickname for Kaz was accurate indeed.

“Fine, hit me with all you’ve got,” you sighed, leaning a little closer than before as if conspiring with him. Instead of leaning away, as you had expected him to do, he leant closer, close enough for you to smell the whiskey on his breath.

“I bet you wouldn’t go over to Wylan and kiss him. On the mouth,” Kaz grinned diabolically.

Yeah, you had known he’d go for this as soon as he had asked the first question.

“That’s not a bet, that’s a dare,” you educated him, but got up from your chair anyway, Kaz’s eyes widening slightly. “What do I get if I win?”

“You won’t,” Kaz told you, his confident smile seeming frozen on his lips.

“Well, then what do you get if you win,” you asked, adjusting your shirt, turning to him expectedly.

“The pride of knowing you ruined your own bet,” Kaz decided.

“How chivalrous of you. I’ll take a coffee with winter spices from the café down the street as my prize, but the coffee with cream, the good one,” you told him, before turning away and walking over to the corner, where your friends were seated. All the way over you felt Kaz’s eyes on your back.

“Hey! Did you finally leave the resident rain cloud and decided to join the fun,” Jesper laughed as he spotted you approaching.

“Not quite. Hey Jes, remember our bet from before?”

Jesper nodded, his grin growing broader. “Am I winning?”

“You just might,” you told him. “But I’d have to kiss your boyfriend for that.”

Jesper stopped for a moment, as if he was thinking, then he looked up at where you were standing behind him, over to Kaz, to Wylan and back to Kaz.

“Oh, if it’s just for the bet, you’d have to ask Wylan, not me.” The grin was returning to Jesper’s face, and you had the sudden thought that he actually might be into you kissing Wylan. Oh saints, that man.

“I would ask him either way, you genius,” you sighed, “I just don’t want to get shot by you over a bet.”

“Fair enough,” Jesper agreed.

“So, Wylan, would you mind if I kissed you? No tongue or anything. It would help me win a bet against Kaz and possibly help Jesper win a bet against me.”

Wylan blinked for a few seconds, trying to process what you were asking, then his eyes skipped over to Jesper, who you saw nodding encouragingly from the corner of your eyes.

“I guess, it’s okay,” he nodded, making you smile.

“This shouldn’t be as hot as it is,” Jesper mumbled behind you.

“I’ll keep it short, I promise,” you told him, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to come to level with him. His dark eyes flickered over your face and from this close up you could almost count the freckles that were sprinkled over his nose and cheeks. He definitely was cute. Not your type, but cute. You could understand why Jesper was so in love with him.

You closed your eyes, and leant forward, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. But your lips had barely touched against Wylan’s, hadn’t even yet registered his warmth, when suddenly the others on the table gasped. It wasn’t the kind of ‘oh, they’re actually kissing!’-gasp, it was more of a shocked, if not even scared gasp. Before you could even try to make sense of it, something hard and pointy landed on your shoulder and you got yanked backwards.

“That’s enough,” Kaz’s icy voice cut like a blade through the noise of the Crow Club.

And without giving you the chance to properly stand up or let you look at him, he used the crow beak of his cane to drag you backwards. Instead of trying to figure out the various levels of amusement and terror on your friends’ faces, you twisted, trying to turn around to Kaz, who marched straight out of the Crow Club. In the dark, cold street outside, he walked a few more meters before he came to a halt and unhooked the cane from your shoulder.

“What was that about,” he almost shouted, his frame seeming taller and more dangerous than usually. Finding yourself on the bad side of Dirtyhands was not very pleasant, you realized, but also you didn’t understand what his problem was.

“What do you mean,” you asked, “you bet I wouldn’t do it, and I did. You lost, so what?”

“You kissed him!”

“Hardly! You stopped me before it was even a proper kiss. With that crow cane of yours.” Annoyed you rubbed the aching part of your shoulder, where the tip of the beak had bored into your muscle.

“You weren’t supposed to kiss him,” Kaz argued.

“You bet I wouldn’t. You have to expect people to win a bet by doing the opposite of what you want them to do. That’s how bets work!”

“I didn’t think you’d really do it! I thought you’d- or- I don’t know! I didn’t think you’d go through with it!”

“Why not? I told you, it’s a game. What’s so bad about wanting to win it?”

“I thought- I thought you wouldn’t kiss him, because you liked m-” Kaz stopped himself before the last word fully slipped over his lips, and turned away, exasperated. Running a shaking hand through his hair, he sighed. “You weren’t supposed to kiss him.”

“Kaz,” carefully you stepped closer behind him. His breath was irregular, and he was clearly upset and emotional. Under normal circumstances you would have placed your hand on his back, but knowing Kaz, you refrained. “Kaz, you do know it was a game, right? It didn’t mean anything. And- I only kissed Wylan because I though you wouldn’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t mind?” Kaz turned back around to you. “Of course I mind! Do you think I don’t wish I could be the one who-”

“Quick question!” Without warning the window beside Kaz and you got thrown open and Jesper poked his head outside. “Kaz are you jealous? And does that mean I won our bet?” The second part was directed at you.

“Not now, Jes,” you told the Zemini man and slammed the window shut again.

“Listen Kaz,” you took a step closer to Kaz, still leaving a safe distance between him and you to not upset him further. “If I had known it would upset you this much, I would have rejected the bet. I really was convinced you didn’t care about if or who I kissed. But now I know better, and it won’t happen again. And for the record. When you asked, who I wanted to kiss between Jesper and Wylan, my initial response would have been someone else entirely.”

You exchanged a long look with Kaz, one that left no doubt that you had meant him, even if you lacked the courage to put it into words.

After a few moments, Kaz bowed his head slightly.

“Sorry for lashing out,” he mumbled.

“Since when does Dirtyhands do apologies,” you teased, making Kaz groan.

“Don’t ruin it,” he threatened, making you laugh.

“Alright, alright. But now that we have that settled, does this mean I won a bet against you?”

“One,” Kaz emphasized. “I won’t make it so easy next time.”

“Why, what’s the next bet? Kissing Nina?”

“You won’t be kissing anyone,” Kaz grumbled, a blush beginning to rise into his cheeks.

“Not anyone? Not even the great Kaz Brekker?” It was bold, that was for certain, but you had hit bullseyes it seemed, as Kaz fought back the red on his cheeks and instead turned to you with an expression that probably was his attempt to threaten you. The thing with Kaz Brekker was that he was incapable of believably threatening the people he cared about.

“I might make an exception for him,” he mumbled, before turning to the door. “Let’s go back inside; it’s cold.”

Trying not to let your giddy excitement show, you followed Kaz back into the bar, but before he entered the main room, he stopped and turned to you.

“What was that bet you had going on with Jesper,” he asked with furrowed brows. You couldn’t help but notice that his body language had changed. Where before he always stood straight and with a certain distance to every person he encountered, he now seemed to be leaning more towards you as if trying to close a distance you knew he couldn’t. Not yet anyway.

“He bet, you would get jealous over me before the end of the month,” you admitted, watching Kaz tilt his head. “I was convinced it was impossible.”

Kaz’s jaw tensed, and his eyes met yours with an unspoken confession, but the moment was interrupted by a drunk guy stumbling through the door, bumping into you and apologizing terribly.

Kaz and you exchanged glances, your more amused than his annoyed one, before you walked back inside, getting hit by a wall of noise and the smell of alcohol. The others waved you over cheerfully, and when Kaz and you pulled your own chairs over to join them at their table, nobody mentioned the way Kaz rested his arm on the backrest of your chair or how he leant over to whisper in your ear that he hadn’t forgotten about the prize for you winning the bet but only under the condition that he got to accompany you to the café.

[planetpedri]

You are in love — Pablo Gavi.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone could see the look in Gavi’s eyes when he looked at you. and soon enough, you saw it too.

Word count: 965+

Disclaimer/s: fluffy fluff fluffff

A/N: i had this written and tumblr didnt save it so i angrily rewrote it. enya received a voice message about it thats how pissed off i was🤦‍♀️ anyways hi!

The piano keys felt comfortable under your touch—like an extension of yourself, which happens when you’ve playing the instrument since childhood. Your eyes were closed as your fingers smoothly glided over the keys, the melody of “Mists” by Iannis Xenakis bounced off the dark walls of your music room.

Piano had quickly become your favorite calming technique. Which you were now using since your brother had thrown a gathering at your house, considering it was far larger than his due to your particularly good income and the fact that you always had guests and a love for large spaces. You had stepped away to ‘chill out’, finding the loud party guests too much to handle.

The lights in the room were dimmed as you were attempting to learn in the dark. A knock at the door had your eyes opening curiously, “come in?” You call out, eyeing the door warily.

Pablo’s head pokes through the open crack, “can I come in?” You nod, sending him a welcoming smile.

Walking inside, Pablo’s eyes wander around the room. He takes in the parts of you people rarely got to see. You were quite.. how did Fermín put it? Uptight, when it came to practicing and your music room. You weren’t one to easily allow just anyone to see you in this state.

Scooting over on the bench you sat on, you pat the open spot beside you. “Come, sit.”

Closing the space between you, Pablo slides onto the wooden bench, his chest rising and falling slowing due to the close proximity. “What are you playing?” He asks, looking to the paper that was propped up in front of you.

“A masterpiece by Xanakis.” You pause, reaching for his hand to place it on the white keys, “want to give it a try?”

You were letting him touch your piano. Last time Fermín touched it, his hand was red and aching for an hour. Pablo had to suppress the smile that threatened his face.

Not only were you initiating contact, you were asking him to try out your piano? He could swoon.

“I think i’d break your ears.” He chuckles. You nod in agreement, a grin on your lips. His eyes flicker across your face, memorizing your smile lines even in the darkness.

“Piano isn’t for everyone.” You agree, “well, worth a shot, I suppose?” You let go of his hand, and the man finds himself missing your touch.

“Will you play something for me?” The brunette quirks an eyebrow, “unless.. I just make you so flustered you can’t play properly.” His tone is teasing, which you roll your eyes at.

Scooting closer to the middle of the piano, which meant your hips bumped his and your shoulders brushed, you let out an exaggerated sigh. Pablo was certainly flustered, but you weren’t.

Smirking, you flex your fingers. “Watch and learn, starboy.” You mock, taking a deep breath as your fingers connect with the white and black keys.

The soft tune of, ‘Love in the dark’ by Adele emitted through the room. Pablo’s eyes darted from your hands to your face, his eyes soft and admiring.

“Can you sing while you play?” He interrupts your concentration, which you scowl up at him for.

You were never nervous when you did this in front of people, but him—Pablo? Your hands were sweating. “I—I’m not that good of a singer.”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “Bullshit. I’ve heard you live, cariño.” See, he didn’t mean to let that slip, but God he was grateful he did.

Your cheeks flushed a deep red, seeable even in the darkness. “Whatever, fine.” You huff, “now. Silence.”

Playing the beginning, you suck in a deep breath, singing the opening lyrics quietly, building up your nerve. “Take your eyes off of me so I can leave,” Your fingers glide over the keys, playing them expertly and precisely.

The atmosphere is tight, not in the bad sense, but in the way that Pablo’s heart was exploding with the mixture of your voice, the way you were playing, and everything in between.

His eyes darted from your hands to your face, softening in admiration. When you glance up at him, your breath hitches. Momentarily taken aback—you miss a key. “Shit.” You groan, “that’s enough for now.”

“That was..” Pablo trails off, his gaze not leaving your face. “Wow.”

You laugh, head dipping down. “It was okayyy. Nothing too spectacular.” You shrug off his compliment, hiding your face from his view.

Pablo shakes his head, leaning to the side to catch your eyes. “No, really, it was. You’re insanely talented.” His eyes are warm and kind, a hint of—wait. What was that? Something flashed across his eyes, something that came and went so fast you couldn’t catch it.

But, oh, oh you knew the second it returned. And you hoped that you were returning it just as noticeable.

He says your name quietly, which you hummed in response to. His dace so close, you felt his breath fanning your face as he spoke, “I—“

“Ay,” The click of a door opening has the both of you pulling away with wide eyes, heads snapping in the doors direction. Fermín comes into view, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Oh, hey, Gavi..” He says slowly, “sis.. we’re about to eat.”

Clearing your throat, you spin around on the seat and stand. “Great! Very hungry, are you hungry? I’m actually starving!” You stumble over your words, looking anywhere but in Pablo’s direction.

Without waiting for his response, you speed walk towards the door, passing your brother. He smirks down at you as you pass, turning his attention to Pablo. “Well, well—“

“Shut up.” The younger boy scowls, brushing past the blonde. Fermín’s laughter echoes off the walls as he skips after the two flustered adults.

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future gavi posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @ar4ujos @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @jajajhaahaha

[whereforarthur]

Piano Nights

Request: y/n is a big pop star and her and arthur meet at a musician after party or something. he’s not really supposed to be there but he sneaks in and she spots him. she ends up finding him attractive and confidently pursues him, they sleep together and end up dating. he can’t believe his luck and neither can george, arthur chris and he’s so in awe of her and just massive simp

Pairing: Arthur Hill x Musician!Reader

Category: Fluff and Soft Smut

Word Count: 7k

*****

When a man loves a woman, can't keep his mind on nothin' else. - Michael Bolton

"You're not even on the list, mate," the bouncer said, eyeing Arthur Hill suspiciously. His hand hovered over the velvet rope, blocking Arthur's path to the glittering promise of the musician's after-party.

Arthur took a deep breath, his heart racing. He had been invited by a friend of a friend, and the prospect of meeting y/n, the pop sensation who had captured his heart with her soulful melodies, had driven him to crash the event. He straightened his hat and offered a charming smile. "Ah, I must've been missed. I'm with the band," he said with a wink, hoping his British charm would win the bouncer over.

To his surprise, the bouncer's gaze softened, and with a chuckle, he lifted the rope. "Alright, you sneaky bugger," he said, letting Arthur through. "Just don't cause any trouble, yeah?"

Arthur stepped into the bustling venue, a swirl of lights and music and laughter. He scanned the crowded room, searching for the unmistakable glow of y/n's presence. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the faint aroma of the catered food wafting from a nearby table. His heart pounded in his chest as he weaved through groups of glammed-up socialites and industry moguls, each step bringing him closer to the woman he had only ever dreamed of meeting.

Y/n, perched on a velvet couch, sipped her champagne and laughed at a joke she couldn't quite hear over the din. Her eyes, framed by dark lashes, flicked up to meet Arthur's as he approached. A spark of curiosity ignited in her gaze, and she took him in—his mustache, the mischievous tilt of his hat, the nervous excitement that danced in his eyes. He was not the typical guest at these functions, and she found that intriguing. He was a breath of fresh air in a room that often felt suffocatingly rehearsed.

As Arthur's heart hammered against his ribcage, he felt the weight of Y/n's stare. He tried to play it cool, nodding at a few familiar faces and pretending to be in his element. But he couldn't help the flush that crept up his neck when she beckoned him over with a single, graceful gesture of her hand. The crowd parted for her like the Red Sea for Moses, and he walked through it, feeling like the most visible man in the room.

Y/n's eyes never left his as he approached. She took a sip of her champagne, her red lips curling into a knowing smile. Arthur felt his knees wobble slightly, his thoughts racing. He hadn't prepared for this. What was he supposed to say to her? What would she think of him? But then he saw the same spark in her gaze that had drawn him in—curiosity mixed with a hint of amusement. He realized she found him intriguing, and that gave him the courage to keep going.

When he reached her, she leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper that cut through the noise. "You don't look like you're with the band," she said, her eyes twinkling. "What's your secret?"

Arthur swallowed hard, his mind racing. "I, uh, I'm a… a big fan," he stammered. "Of your music. And I’m a musician as well."

Y/n's smile grew wider. "Oh, really?" she said, arching an eyebrow. "And what's your name?"

"Arthur," he managed to say, his voice a little too loud. "Arthur Hill. I'm, uh, a YouTuber. I do music and stuff."

Her eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, Arthur Hill," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "I've heard of you. You're quite the charmer on camera."

Her touch sent a jolt through his body, and he felt his confidence surge. "Is that so?" he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Y/n leaned closer, her eyes never leaving his. "Mmhmm," she murmured, her breath warm against his ear. "I think we should get to know each other better."

Without waiting for a response, she took Arthur's hand and led him through the crowd, her confidence a magnetic force that drew him along. They found a quiet corner of the room, the pulse of the party still thrumming around them but muted enough for conversation. She turned to face him, her grip firm, and searched his eyes for something—approval, perhaps, or maybe just the promise of a good time.

"So, Arthur Hill," she said, her voice low and intimate. "What brings you to my party?"

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. "I…uh, I was invited," he lied, hoping she wouldn't see through his ruse.

Y/n's laugh was like music, a sweet melody that danced in the air between them. "Sneaky," she said, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "I like that."

Her hand was still in his, and Arthur felt the warmth of her touch spread through his body. She was so close, her perfume a delicate whisper of jasmine and vanilla. He knew he should let go, knew he should play it cool, but he couldn't resist the pull of her. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, a force of nature that drew him in like gravity.

Y/n's eyes searched his, looking for something. He wasn't sure what, but he hoped he had it. "You know," she said, her voice a soft caress, "I've always had a soft spot for musicians who dare to do things differently."

Her hand slid up his arm, and Arthur felt his heart race. He had watched her music videos countless times, imagined this moment in his wildest dreams, but he never thought it would happen. The fact that he was attractive and British didn't hurt, but it was his audacity, his willingness to sneak into her world, that had truly captured her interest.

"So, Arthur," she began, her voice a sultry purr that made his knees feel like jelly, "are you single?"

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. He had imagined this moment a hundred times, but now that it was here, he found himself at a loss for words. "Yeah," he finally managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am."

Y/n's smile grew wider, and she leaned in even closer, her breath warm and sweet. "Good," she said, her eyes locked on his. "Because I think we could write some beautiful music together."

Arthur felt his cheeks burn, his heart racing faster than a drum solo. He couldn't believe this was happening—that she was interested in him. But here she was, standing in front of him, her hand still in his, suggesting that they could be more than just two people at the same party.

"I'd love that," he said, his voice a little shaky. He took a step closer, the electricity between them growing stronger. "I mean, I write songs, and you… well, you make music that touches people's souls. Imagine what we could create together."

*****

Y/n's eyes searched his, and Arthur could see the wheels turning in her mind. She was considering the possibility, and it was exhilarating. "Why don't we start right now?" she suggested, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. "Let's find a quiet spot and see what happens."

They slipped away from the party, leaving the noise and the glitz behind them. They found a small, dimly lit room, the only sound the distant throb of the bass from the dance floor. Y/n sat on the edge of a plush chair, her legs crossed, and patted the space next to her. "Play something for me," she said, her voice low and inviting.

Arthur felt a jolt of excitement. He hadn't brought his guitar, but there was a piano in the corner, gleaming under a soft spotlight. He took a seat on the bench, his heart racing. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before he began to play. The melody was soft, haunting—a song he had written but never shared with anyone. Y/n leaned in, listening intently, her eyes never leaving his face.

The music filled the space, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. The tension grew, each note building upon the last, until it was almost unbearable. Arthur felt like he was baring his soul to her, and she seemed to understand, her eyes never leaving his. When he finished, the silence was deafening.

Y/n leaned back, her eyes wide with awe. "That was… incredible," she breathed. "I had no idea you had such a gift."

Arthur felt a blush spread across his cheeks. "Thanks," he said, looking away from her piercing gaze. "It's just something I do."

Y/n reached over and placed her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't be so modest," she said, her eyes gleaming. "I can tell that music is your soul, Arthur Hill."

Her touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he found himself leaning closer to her, drawn in by her beauty and her passion for music. He could see the desire in her eyes, and it mirrored his own. "Maybe we could write something together," he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n's smile grew, and she leaned in, her breath warm against his cheek. "I'd like that," she murmured.

Arthur felt his heart race as she tilted her head, her eyes closing. He knew this was a moment he would never forget, a moment that would change everything. He leaned in, closing the distance between them, and their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. It was a promise, a question, and an answer all rolled into one.

The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if they were trying to express everything they felt in that single moment. Her hand slid up his arm to his shoulder, pulling him closer, and he felt the world fall away. All that mattered was the warmth of her body against his, the taste of her, the sound of their mingled breaths.

Y/n's legs slipped over Arthur's, and she straddled his lap, her dress riding up slightly to reveal the smooth skin of her thighs. He felt the heat of her, the softness of her, and his hands found their way to her hips, holding her tightly as the kiss grew more intense. The music from the party was a distant memory, replaced by the rhythm of their hearts beating in time.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as their kiss grew deeper, more demanding. Arthur could feel the world around them fading away, until all that was left was the two of them, lost in each other. The scent of her perfume filled his senses, and he knew he was falling hard.

Their bodies moved in sync, as if they had danced together a thousand times before. His hands roamed over her curves, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. Y/n's breath hitched as Arthur's thumb brushed the sensitive skin of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

With a soft moan, she broke the kiss, her eyes searching his for a sign that this was real. Arthur's pupils were dilated with desire, his cheeks flushed, and she knew he felt it too. "We should get out of here," she whispered, her voice thick with longing.

His heart was racing faster than the bass from the party outside. He nodded, unable to find the words to express the tumult of emotions coursing through him. He had never felt like this before, and the thought of being with Y/n, of sharing something so intimate, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

In his mind, Arthur replayed every moment leading up to this, his heart pounding in his chest. The way she had looked at him, the touch of her hand, the sound of her laugh—it was all so surreal. He couldn't believe that he, a mere YouTuber, had caught the eye of a pop goddess. But here she was, in his arms, and it was all too real.

The reality of the situation washed over him, sending a thrill through his veins. Y/n, the woman whose voice had soothed his loneliest nights and inspired his wildest dreams, was here with him now, her body pressed against his. It was more than he could have ever hoped for, more than he felt he deserved.

They stumbled out of the party, the cool London night air a stark contrast to the heat of their passion. Arthur's heart was racing, his thoughts a jumbled mess of excitement and nerves. He had never felt so alive, so seen. Y/n's hand was in his, her grip tight and reassuring, leading him to her nearby hotel suite.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of city lights filtering through the windows. She led him to the king-sized bed, her eyes never leaving his. Arthur felt like he was in a trance, unable to resist the pull of this moment. As they kissed again, he felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders.

Y/n's thoughts swirled in a delicious cocktail of surprise and desire. Who was this man with the cheeky grin and the haunting melodies? He had crashed her party, and now he was crashing into her heart. She had been surrounded by the same faces, the same shallow flattery for so long, and here was someone real, someone who made her feel alive.

Her body hummed with anticipation as she felt Arthur's hands on her hips, his touch sending shivers down her spine. The way he looked at her, with those earnest eyes and that hopeful smile, made her feel seen in a way she hadn't in years. The music industry was a minefield of egos and ambition, and yet here was a man who seemed to genuinely appreciate her for who she was, not just for the image she had so carefully cultivated.

Their kisses grew more urgent, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. The only sound was the distant wail of a siren outside, a stark reminder of the world they had left behind. Y/n felt a thrill of rebellion, a rush of adrenaline as she gave herself over to the moment. She had never done anything like this before, never let someone in so quickly, but with Arthur, it just felt…right.

Her dress slipped off her shoulders, revealing the lacy lingerie beneath. Arthur's eyes widened, taking in the sight of her. He had seen her in music videos, dressed in glamorous outfits that left little to the imagination, but the reality was so much more intoxicating. She was real, flesh and blood, and she was here with him. He gently traced the line of her collarbone with his thumb, feeling the rapid pulse of her heartbeat under his fingertips.

Y/n's eyes searched Arthur's, looking for any sign of hesitation, but all she saw was desire, raw and unfiltered. She reached behind her, unclipping her bra with a swift motion. It fell to the floor, and she shrugged out of her dress, leaving her in nothing but the lace that barely contained her. Arthur's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her, her curves bathed in the soft light.

He had seen her in music videos, dressed in outfits that left little to the imagination, but the reality was so much more. She was real, standing before him in all her beauty, and it was overwhelming. He reached out, his fingertips grazing the soft skin of her stomach, and felt her shiver. The room was thick with tension, the air crackling with the electricity of their attraction.

*****

Arthur's mind raced with the gravity of the situation. This was Y/n, the woman whose music had been the soundtrack to his life, whose videos he had watched countless times, and whose posters had adorned his walls. But she was also a person, a woman with desires and fears just like him. He didn't want to be just another notch on her bedpost, a fleeting fling for the tabloids to gossip about. He wanted this to mean something.

As she stood before him, half-dressed and breathtakingly beautiful, Arthur felt his heart pound in his chest. He had to remind himself to breathe, his body responding to her in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. He reached out, his hands trembling slightly as they found her waist, and he pulled her closer. He could feel the heat of her skin, the softness of her body, and it was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

"You're…you're so beautiful," he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was the most inadequate thing he could have said, but it was all he could manage. Y/n's smile grew, and she leaned into him, her breasts pressing against his chest. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice a sweet symphony in his ears.

Her hands found the buttons of his shirt, and she began to undo them with a deftness that belied her excitement. Each button released with a soft click, revealing more of the tanned skin beneath. Arthur felt himself getting lost in the moment, the sensation of her touch like a melody he hadn't yet written. He had never been with someone so…so everything.

Their kisses grew more urgent, more passionate, as they tumbled onto the bed. The soft fabric of the comforter whispered against their skin as they explored each other with eager hands. Y/n's legs wrapped around his waist, her hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that made his blood sing. He kissed along her jaw, her neck, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat as it matched the tempo of his own.

Her hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles and the ink of his tattoos. She gasped as he found her most sensitive spots, her breath catching in her throat. Arthur felt a surge of pride, knowing that he could make her feel this way, that he could bring this goddess of music to her knees with just his touch.

He kissed her neck, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat against his lips. His hands moved to the clasp of her lingerie, fumbling slightly in his haste. Y/n giggled, her breath warm against his ear. "Let me," she murmured, taking over and sliding the fabric down her body.

The sight of her, bare and uninhibited, was more than Arthur could handle. He had to force himself to breathe, to not lose himself entirely to the moment. He leaned back, watching as she revealed herself to him, and he felt something shift inside him—a sense of awe and wonder that she would share this with him.

Y/n's eyes never left his, her gaze filled with a fiery need that mirrored his own. She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, and pulled him back down to her. Their kisses grew deeper, more urgent, as their bodies melded together, a symphony of skin and passion.

Arthur felt his world spin as he kissed her, his hands exploring the soft curves of her body. He had dreamed of this, but the reality was so much more potent than any fantasy. He liked what he saw—no, he liked wasn't a strong enough word. He adored, he worshipped, he craved. The sight of her was like nothing he had ever seen before, a masterpiece that defied description.

Y/n's hands found their way to the buckle of his belt, her movements swift and sure. The sound of the leather loosening was like a gunshot in the quiet room, sending a jolt of excitement through him. He watched, transfixed, as she pulled his trousers down, revealing his boxers. He was already hard, the fabric straining against his erection. She looked up at him with a knowing smile, her eyes dark with desire.

Arthur felt his heart hammering in his chest as she reached for him, her hand wrapping around his length. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He groaned, his eyes closing, as she began to stroke him. It was all he could do to keep from bucking his hips into her touch, to keep from losing control entirely.

"Do you have a condom?" she whispered, her voice a seductive murmur that sent a shiver down his spine.

Arthur nodded, his hand shaking slightly as he reached for his pocket. He had never been so grateful for his 'just in case' habit. He handed it to her, his eyes never leaving hers as she deftly tore the foil packet with her teeth and slid it onto him. The heat of her hand was almost too much to bear.

With a final, lingering kiss, she positioned herself over him, her eyes holding his in a silent question. He nodded, unable to find the words to express his readiness. She sank down, inch by inch, until he was fully inside her. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt—tight, warm, and all-consuming. They both gasped, the intimacy of the moment resonating between them.

Their bodies moved in sync, a dance they had somehow known the steps to from the moment their eyes had met. Arthur watched her, the way her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth parted in silent ecstasy, and he felt like the luckiest man alive. This was Y/n, the woman whose voice had gotten him through the darkest of days, and she was here, with him, sharing this incredible moment.

Her hips rocked against his, setting a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. It was like they were creating a new kind of music, a symphony of skin and passion that resonated through the very air around them. Arthur matched her pace, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he felt himself getting closer to the edge.

Their movements grew more frenzied, their breaths coming in gasps and moans. The world outside the hotel suite didn't exist—it was just the two of them, lost in the crescendo of their desire. He could feel her tightening around him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she approached her peak. He didn't want this moment to end, didn't want the music to stop playing.

But as the tension grew, as the crescendo neared, Arthur felt himself losing control. He thrust into her with a primal urgency, his hips moving in a desperate rhythm. Y/n's head fell back, her hair a dark waterfall on the pillow, and she cried out, her voice echoing through the room. The sound was like a siren's call, pushing him over the edge.

With a final, guttural groan, Arthur climaxed, his body shuddering with the force of his release. He felt Y/n's muscles clench around him, her own orgasm following swiftly after. They remained there, entwined, for a long moment, their breaths mingling in the quiet that had descended. The city outside seemed to hold its breath, waiting for their next move.

They lay there, their hearts pounding in their chests, the only sound the distant wail of a siren. Y/n leaned her forehead against Arthur's, her eyes closed. He could feel the dampness of her skin, the stickiness of their combined sweat. It was a raw, intimate moment, one that was both terrifying and exhilarating in its vulnerability.

"Wow," she whispered, the word a soft sigh that seemed to hold all the wonder of the universe.

Arthur lay beneath her, his chest heaving with the exertion of their passion. "Yeah," he managed, his voice hoarse. "Wow."

Y/n giggled, the sound like a melody that danced through the silence. She rolled off him, her body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. She pulled the comforter over them, her head resting on his chest. "That was…unexpected," she said, her voice still a little shaky.

Arthur chuckled, his arms wrapping around her. "Yeah," he agreed, his heart still racing. "I've never done anything like this before."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes searching his. "Neither have I," she admitted, a hint of surprise in her voice. "But it felt…right."

Arthur's heart swelled with something that felt a lot like hope. "It did," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It really did."

They lay there for a while, their bodies cooling, the silence between them a sweet symphony of satisfaction. Y/n traced patterns on his chest with her fingertips, her touch feather-light. Arthur could feel himself drifting, his mind racing with the possibilities of what this could mean. A relationship with a pop star? It was more than he had ever dared to dream of.

But as the afterglow began to fade, so did the silence. Y/n sat up, the comforter falling away to reveal the curve of her spine, and Arthur felt his heart clench. What now? Would she kick him out, say it was a mistake? He watched her, his eyes tracing the lines of her body, the way the light played across her skin.

"You know," she said, turning to face him, "I don't do this sort of thing."

Arthur nodded, his heart racing. "Neither do I," he admitted, the reality of their impulsive tryst setting in. The weight of her gaze was almost too much to bear.

Y/n reached out, her hand cupping his cheek. "But I liked it," she whispered, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I liked it a lot."

Arthur felt a wave of relief wash over him, his anxiety giving way to a warmth that spread through his chest. "Me too," he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "I never thought…"

"That you'd end up in bed with me?" Y/n finished his sentence, a playful smile on her lips. She leaned in, her breasts brushing against his chest, and kissed him softly. "Neither did I," she whispered against his mouth. "But here we are."

Arthur felt his heart swell. The gravity of what had just happened between them was not lost on him. "What now?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Y/n's smile was mysterious, her eyes holding his with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. "Now," she said, "we see where this takes us."

The words hung in the air, filled with both promise and uncertainty. Arthur felt a mix of excitement and fear—excitement at the thought of a future with her, fear that it could all be a fleeting moment. But as she leaned in to kiss him again, all he could do was revel in the present. Her soft, full lips against his, the scent of her perfume, the feel of her bare skin—it was a symphony of sensation that he never wanted to end.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of secret dates and stolen kisses. Y/n took him to her favorite London haunts, places that were off the beaten path and far from the prying eyes of paparazzi. They talked about music, their shared passion, and Arthur felt like he was getting to know the real her, not the persona she presented to the world. He played her his latest compositions, and she listened intently, offering feedback that was both insightful and encouraging.

Their relationship grew in intensity and depth, each moment together a treasure that Arthur held close to his heart. They had an unspoken understanding that their romance was to remain private, a secret shared between just the two of them. It added an illicit thrill to their encounters, making every touch, every whispered word feel like a stolen moment of pure bliss.

Y/n introduced Arthur to a world of glamour and excitement that he had only ever dreamed of. Red carpets, flashing cameras, and A-list parties became their playground, but it was the quiet moments in between that Arthur cherished the most. They would escape the chaos, finding refuge in her luxurious hotel suite or his small flat, sharing takeout and laughter as if they were any other couple.

He still couldn't believe his luck. Every time she texted him, every secret smile she sent his way across a crowded room, it was like winning the lottery. The idea that she, a woman who could have anyone, had chosen him was mind-boggling. Yet, she was there, in his arms, her head on his chest, her breathing steady as she slept. The way she looked at him, the way she touched him, it was all so real, so tangible.

They had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps for the time being. It was a thrill, sneaking around like teenagers, dodging paparazzi and hiding from her entourage. But Arthur knew it wasn't sustainable. The pressure of keeping his feelings bottled up was immense, especially when he wanted to shout from the rooftops that he was with Y/n. The high of their secret love was addictive, but the fear of losing her to the spotlight was a constant ache.

He found himself doing things he never thought he would for a girl—running errands for her, writing her sweet nothings in the middle of the night, even rearranging his entire schedule to fit hers. He was a massive simp for her, and he didn't care. Her smile was his sun, her voice his moon, and he would do anything to keep her happy. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Whenever she was around, Arthur felt like he could conquer the world. He'd drop everything for her, and it was as if he'd been living in black and white until she added color to his life. Her laughter was like a melody that played on repeat in his mind, bringing him joy even when she wasn't around. The way she looked at him, with those piercing eyes that seemed to see straight into his soul, made him feel like the most important person in the room.

*****

He had to tell someone about her, so he gathered his closest mates—George, Chris, and Arthurtv—at the local pub. They were all ears, expecting another one of Arthur's wild party stories, but instead, he shared the most incredible tale of all. He talked about her beauty, her kindness, her talent, and the way she made him feel. As the words spilled out, he couldn't help but notice the disbelief etched on their faces. They were used to his grandiose storytelling, but this was different—this was real.

"You're telling me you're dating y/n?" George said, his pint halfway to his mouth, frozen in place. "The y/n?"

"Yeah, the one and only," Arthur replied, his cheeks flushing with a mix of pride and nerves. Chris and Arthurtv stared at him in disbelief, their eyes wide.

"Bloody hell, mate," Chris said, finally finding his voice. "How did you pull that off?"

Arthur chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at the memory of their first night together. "It just sort of…happened," he said, playing it cool. "We clicked, you know?"

George set his pint down with a thud. "You don't just click with y/n, Arthur," he said, his tone a mix of awe and skepticism. "You've got to be shitting me."

"I'm not," Arthur said, his grin widening. "It's true. She's…she's amazing."

Chris leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "What's she like? In bed, I mean."

Arthur felt his face heat up, but before he could respond, Arthurtv slapped him on the back. "Mate, you can't tell us that!"

"What, you think I'm not man enough?" Arthur teased, trying to deflect the attention. But inside, he was bursting with the need to share every intimate detail of their time together.

"No, it's not that," Arthurtv said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's just…she's y/n. You can't just casually drop that you've slept with her and expect us not to want the details."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but the truth was, he was dying to share. He'd never felt this way about anyone before—like he'd found his muse, his soulmate, all rolled into one. He took a deep breath and leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Let's just say it's beyond anything I've ever experienced," he said, a smug smile playing on his lips.

Chris and George exchanged a look that was equal parts envy and incredulity. Arthurtv just shook his head, grinning. "Mate, you're living the dream," he said, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and disbelief. "What's next? Marriage?"

Arthur's cheeks burned even hotter at the teasing. "Hold your horses," he said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "It's still early days, but…" He trailed off, the smile on his face speaking volumes.

"But what?" George prompted, leaning in.

Arthur took a sip of his beer, his thoughts racing. "But it feels…right," he admitted, his voice barely audible over the pub's din. "I know it's fast, but I can't help it."

His friends exchanged glances, their disbelief slowly morphing into something like respect. "You've always had a way with words, Arthur," George said, his tone a mix of amazement and admiration. "But I never thought you'd charm your way into the heart of a pop star."

Chris raised his glass in a toast. "Here's to the most unexpected love story of the century," he said, his eyes gleaming with mirth.

Arthur's cheeks burned even brighter, but he couldn't help the grin that split his face. "Cheers to that," he said, clinking his glass against theirs. The bubble of happiness inside him was threatening to burst, and he felt like he was floating on air.

*****

The next week, the four of them found themselves backstage at one of y/n's concerts. The energy was electric, the air thick with the scent of hairspray and sweat. The roar of the crowd was a constant backdrop as they waited for her to emerge from her dressing room. Arthur's heart was racing, his palms slick with sweat. He'd been with her so many times now, but introducing her to his mates was a whole different ballgame.

When the door finally swung open, she stepped out, a vision in a sparkling ensemble that left little to the imagination. Her hair was a waterfall of glossy waves, and her makeup was flawless. The boys stared, their jaws dropping to the floor. George and Chris looked like they'd seen a ghost, and even Arthurtv, the most unflappable of the bunch, had a look of awe on his face.

"Guys, this is Y/n," Arthur said, his voice a mix of pride and nerves.

Y/n stepped forward, her smile bright and her eyes sparkling. "Hi," she said, her voice a soft melody that seemed to wrap around each of them.

"Hi," George managed, his voice barely above a squeak. Chris just nodded, his eyes glued to her like a teenager at their first concert.

Y/n laughed, the sound like a bell in the tension-filled room. She moved closer, her hand extended. "Nice to meet you all," she said, her smile genuine. "Arthur's told me so much about you."

The tension eased as they each took her hand, her grip firm and warm. They chatted awkwardly for a few moments, Arthur's heart in his throat as he watched his worlds collide. The reality of her standing there, a pop star in their midst, was still so surreal.

"You're even more beautiful in person," Arthurtv finally managed, his cheeks reddening.

Y/n winked at Arthur. "I've heard that before," she teased, her voice a seductive purr.

The guys chuckled, the ice broken by her charm. They talked about music, their shared love for the industry, and their own experiences. Y/n was surprisingly down-to-earth, asking about their own projects and dreams. Arthur watched her, his heart swelling with affection. She had a way of making everyone feel special, and it was clear she enjoyed their company.

"So, how did you win her over?" George finally asked, nudging Arthur playfully.

Arthur's mind raced back to that fateful night at the party, the moment he saw her across the crowded room. "It was like we were the only two people there," he began, his voice filled with wonder. "We talked about music, and I played her some of my stuff. She actually liked it." He paused, a blush creeping up his neck. "And then we just…clicked."

Y/n's eyes sparkled with mirth. "He's being modest," she said, her voice a playful purr. "He's incredibly talented, and he's got this charm that's impossible to resist." She stepped closer to him, looping her arm through his. "Plus, he's got this adorable accent."

The boys chuckled, and Arthur felt his cheeks heat up. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But with her by his side, he was invincible. "It's true," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It was all the Queen's English."

Y/n leaned into him, her breath warm against his neck. "You know what else is true?" she whispered, her voice a seductive murmur. "I can't wait to get you alone again."

Arthur felt his blood race at her words, the anticipation of their next encounter sending a thrill through his body. He glanced at his friends, who were trying and failing to look anywhere but at the two of them. "I think we should get going," he said, his voice strained. "Don't want to keep the fans waiting."

Y/n's smile was knowing, a secret shared only between them. "Of course," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "I'll see you after the show."

With a final wave, she disappeared back into the dressing room, leaving Arthur and his friends to exchange wide-eyed glances. "Bloody hell," George murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really did it, mate."

The concert was a blur of lights, music, and screaming fans. Arthur watched from the side of the stage, his heart in his throat as y/n owned the crowd. Her voice was a siren's call, her movements mesmerizing. He couldn't believe she was his, even if it was just for a little while. The energy was infectious, and he found himself swaying to the beat, lost in the rhythm of her performance.

After the show, she found him in the backstage chaos, her eyes searching the sea of faces until they landed on his. The moment their gazes met, the noise faded away, and it was just the two of them. She made her way over, dodging eager fans and eager handlers, and threw herself into his arms. The scent of her perfume was like a warm embrace, and he held her tight, feeling the buzz of her excitement.

"You were amazing," he murmured into her hair, his voice lost in the cacophony of the backstage area.

"Thanks," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "You guys were great, too. I can't believe you came."

They talked about the show, their laughter echoing in the crowded hallway. The chemistry between them was palpable, and Arthur felt himself getting lost in her again. They had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Every time they were together, it felt like a secret that wanted to burst forth and be shared with the world.

But for now, they had to be content with stolen moments, with whispers and glances that spoke volumes. They group decided to sneak out the back, dodging the paparazzi that waited like vultures for a glimpse of y/n. The cool London air hit them like a slap in the face, a stark contrast to the heat of the venue. They slipped into a waiting car, the tinted windows offering them a brief reprieve from the world.

In the quiet of the car, their hands found each other, their fingers entwining. Arthur couldn't resist the urge to lean in, to capture her lips in a kiss that was both hungry and gentle. She melted into him, her hand sliding up to cradle his neck. It was a kiss that spoke of promises and dreams, of a future that was still uncertain but filled with possibility.

When they pulled up to the house they shared, a quaint townhouse in North London, the reality of their situation hit Arthur like a ton of bricks. The boys all lived together, and while they had managed to keep their relationship a secret thus far, it was only a matter of time before someone caught on. They stumbled out of the car, laughing and whispering, trying to act as casual as possible as they made their way inside.

The living room was a typical bachelor pad—beer bottles and pizza boxes scattered across the floor, the faint scent of dirty laundry lingering in the air. But to Arthur, it was home. He led y/n through the mess, her eyes wide with amusement. "Sorry about the state of things," he said, blushing. "We're not exactly neat freaks."

"It's charming," she said, her voice filled with genuine affection. "It's like a real house."

The boys looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. They had always known their living situation was less than ideal, but hearing her say it made it seem somehow…cozy. They cleared a space on the couch, and she settled in, her legs curled under her. They talked for hours, sharing stories and laughs, until the sun began to rise and the city outside grew quiet.

It was in those early morning hours that Arthur knew he was falling for her—not just for her fame or her beauty, but for the person she was beneath the glitz and glamour. Her vulnerability, her passion for music, her kindness—it was all too much to handle. He looked at her, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she teased him about his love for Doctor Who, and he felt his heart swell. He wanted to tell her everything, to shout from the rooftops that she was his.

But the world wasn't ready for their love story, not yet. So they sat there, in the quiet of the early morning, their bodies close but not touching, their hearts beating in sync. It was a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, a moment that was both filled with joy and tinged with the fear of what was to come. They had crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed, and Arthur knew that their lives would never be the same.

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ Only. Mommy issues/kink, submissive Homelander, sexual themes, language, drug use.

My Master Post

Homelander

First part: Selfish Boy

Second Part: Listen to me

@chocolate-floof for non sexual homelander fics

It takes four days before he feels his hands itching to touch you.

Four days since he’s felt your touch, smelled your hair, heard your voice. 

Four days of being surrounded by idiots or sycophants

Things are worse. 

No matter what step he takes everything crumbles before his eyes and he can only bullshit his way for so long.

He needs you more than ever before — maybe he should keep you here? 

Hide you in a place only he knows.

Somewhere no one else can touch you, where he has you ready day in and day out. 

He’s dreamed of being here, wrapped in your arms, floating in that wonderful place where he doesn’t exist. 

You were here — your voice being used to soothe others — while he was in a tailspin.

Sage betrayed him, A-Train dug out his tracker, and Ryan? He keeps that in the back of his mind, refusing to feel the heartache he carries. 

Ryan is his son, and he loves him. 

He should listen to him. 

“Well?” He snaps his head to the left. 

You leaned on your windowsill, arms crossed, the sun rings a circle of light in your hair. He can’t make his mouth work. You’re smiling at him, head cocked to the side with a fondness in your eyes. 

He wants to hurt you

 “What?”

You raise a brow. “Are you going to come in? Not to complain, but people will notice a superhero on my porch.” 

Oh. 

He straightens his back when you roll your eyes. The window closes with a suction noise — the screen sliding down. He watches until you disappear, then waits for the door to open. 

It does. 

He sees what you’re wearing and nearly begs to touch you. 

“Come on, Johnny.” 

Stepping over your threshold relaxes his shoulders and covers him in warmth and safety. Your house smells like warm flowers and lemon, faint, hanging in the air. 

Your arms are around him before he takes in the candles around the room. He’s watching the group of them burn, thickening the smell. Your arms startle him when you wrap around his neck, your toes tipping to bring your face close to him. Your nose nudges his ear, humming tunelessly. 

Homelander isn’t sure if he should touch you. 

He wants to. 

“It’s okay, Baby. I want you to hold me.” It tastes like chocolate on his tongue when he swallows it, the sweetness of it travels into his lungs. 

He sighs and pulls you in, his hands landing on your hips. He bumps his forehead against you until you notch your head back and smile up at him.

“Why did you come to me, hmm? What can I do for my good boy?”

He isn’t a fan of music. The mumbled lyrics about dying or useless love-drunk teenagers being drilled into people’s minds. It played too loud, danced too much, and talked about it. 

He doesn’t listen to music, but he listens to you.

Your voice rings in his ears. 

He sees the light behind his eyes, pink, soft, trickling down to his chest where it heats his heart. The soft murmurs a symphony in his head, he keeps listening as he lifts you into your arms and carries you to the guest room. 

Not your room. 

He doesn’t deserve your room. 

“Johnny,” he rests you on the bed, “Come here.” 

Stepping back, Homelander takes all of you in. Your leg stretches, sliding your feet along the sheets. Your arms stretch over your head the blue cropped shirt rising to show the barest hint of your chest. 

If he wanted to, he could reach in and rip your heart out. Hold it in his fists and squeeze as he watches you choke to death. 

It’d be easy. 

He’d be able to shove pieces of it into your mouth and down your throat while the light dies from your eyes. 

Homelander crawls towards you, sliding between Your legs touching your stomach with his nose and into the curve of your chest.

“John.” 

He whimpers.

“You came to me for a reason, Johnny. Mind sharing with the class?” 

He shakes his head but feels the lie in his core. 

He came to you to unwind, be free, and let someone else control him the way he deserves. His head hasn’t stopped spinning and the urge to wrap around himself until he’s a small little boy again aches in his chest. 

The Homelander needs nothing. 

He’s perfect.

You guide his head to rest on your chest, carding through his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. He whimpers into you nuzzling his nose along your collar trying to find comfort, find his safe place. 

“You need someone to care about you.” Your voices drizzle honey over his body, “My baby boy. You’re such a powerful hero saving people, smiling for cameras and controlling those around you. It gets tiring being what others expect of you, but even more so when you know nothing else, yes, baby?” 

It hurts him to hear those words. 

To hear someone telling him the truth.

“I need you.” His nose your chest seeking your nipple. 

You smack his cheek, “That special, you selfish boy. You don’t deserve it.”

John whimpers again, whining, whistling from his nose. 

He craves you.

“You know what you deserve?” He blinks up at you, feeling excitement stir in his chest. It drips arousal to his core, tingling his legs, and making his body shake. 

“What do I deserve, Mommy?” He sounds desperate.

You hum gliding your fingers down his nose, tracing his lips to trail along his neck and push his Adam’s Apple in. John choked for a fraction of a second, fear mingling with the burning in his stomach. 

He can’t choke to death.

They tried. 

Sucking the air from his lungs until he choked, but it never stopped,d there was always more. They were endless about it, how deep he can swim, how high he can fly. 

“What do you think, My Sweet Boy?.” You stopped pushing against his neck, moving your hand down his chest. He’s still wearing the suit. It gives him vertigo being in this place with you whispering in his ear making him into John not Homelander all by your hand trailing over his suit top. 

He watches you walk your fingers over the muscles in his suit. Embarrassment flames in his chest knowing that all the fucking suits. He’s flat, stomach rock hard but he can’t get visible abs. Only a tight stomach that tapers into sharp hip bones showing off his lean build. 

He hates himself. 

“A kiss?” He’d beg for your lips on his.

“I don’t think so.” A warm blanket drags across his skin, prickling goosebumps to life. His nipples tingle with the softest brush over them to make his hips jerk, mind going fuzzy. 

You aren’t touching beneath his suit. 

“I think you deserve to want more, to crave more, but not have it.” His skin turns icy. The warmth of your voice disappears. Freeze burns his skin a blanket of frost replaces the safe, home, warm feeling.

“But-”

“What was that?” You stop touching him. 

Losing your hands ghosting over him is excruciating.

You should touch him, kiss him, let him sink deep like he deserves because he’s the strongest superhero. 

The best superhero. 

He’s perfect and perfection deserves whatever perfection wants. 

“I want you.” 

“Do you?” Your nails are at his neck. John doesn’t feel the pain. He feels the dig into his skin, your words pouring ice into his veins. Every nerve is light up, burning, aching.

 He feels too hot and too cold all at once. 

Tears burn his eyes.

“Do you want me, or do you want to be in control? The more you hold back, the more you refuse to let me in the colder you’ll be. I can make you drop deeper than the ocean. You won’t know what’s good or what’s bad because selfish, naughty boys don’t deserve to feel good.” 

“I deserve nothing.” He cries, “Nothing.” John sobs, deep heavy sobs that rattle his chest. He cries into your collar, begging out loud for your forgiveness. 

John wants the warmth to come back. “Please.” He cries.

He wants the pain to stop, the reeling in his mind that takes him away from his floating place. All he wants is to fall into the silk wrap of your voice and let you hold him.

“That’s right, baby boy.” 

He takes a breath. 

The blanket returns.

“You deserve nothing but what I wish to give you. Everything else you take and take, but here in this room, in my arms, you only have what I want you to have.” Your fingers are back in his hair, stroking it back, pulling tight at the base. 

You come into view with the harsh tug of his scalp. “You’re beautiful.” 

His tears fall in fiery streaks down his cheeks. “I’m not - I don’t-”

You pop his cheek, “You deserve what I give you. If I say you’re beautiful, you do not argue with me, boy. Now say it.” 

He can’t see you past the pool of tears. “I’m,” His voice trembles, “I’m beautiful.” 

Another pop, “Louder.” 

He sobs, “I’m beautiful.” 

Another pop, harder, followed by a brush of your fingers, “Almost, baby, I want to believe you but I don’t.”

Shame boils his stomach the bile burning his throat.

He wants to make you happy. He wants to keep you happy and he can’t. When you’re not happy — he’s stuck in those ugly dark places inside himself. 

“I’m beautiful.” It comes out clear, strong, the voice of a real man and not the Vought-made man he is, “I’m beautiful.” 

“Yes, baby.” Silk over his skin, clouds rested beneath him, helping him float. “You are beautiful, my sweet boy. All of you.” The snap of his suit flap pricks the fog in his mind. He feels your hand slide in, pulling the other snaps. His suit becomes looser, falling from his frame, your nails dragging over his undershirt. 

“All wrapped up in this patriotic suit, like a gift. I like gifts, fun ones too, gifts that I can play with. Do you like gifts, Johnny?” He waits for you to undo his suit pants. Instead, you grab his hands, untangling them from your shirt. He follows you as you press your lips to his knuckles.

His cock throbs, stomach tightening. 

Your lips aren’t his to have.

He must earn every single one. 

You kiss the top of his head with a long, searing kiss.

John wants you to kiss him everywhere, over his ribs, licking his nipples until he shivers.

He wants them all.

If he gets nothing but your kiss, he’ll break apart from pleasure. 

“I want you to go change. I have your soft clothes in the closet. Be sure to brush your teeth and comb your hair.” 

“What-” 

“I want you to feel snug. I want to hold you until you fall asleep and I can’t do that in this, can I? You want me to take care of you, right?” 

With heavy legs, he steps up from the bed. The sheets rustle, then your hands drape over his shoulders, pulling the suit top off. The eagles make a dull thud when they hit the ground and the skin of Homelander sheds. You come up his chest from his ribs, hands sliding beneath his shirt to lift and lift until he pulls it over his head. 

You hum warm hands following the path of his spine. “Beautiful indeed.” 

He shivers, groin tightening again, cock kicking in his pants. 

Pleasure radiates from your words of appreciation. Your cooing sounds as your hands travel back up his ribs to his chest. You squeeze what little he has, praise him for being strong, and flick your thumbs over his nipples. 

His body shakes, and trembles, he’s worried his knees will give out when you kiss his shoulder and it blooms pure pleasure inside him.

“Take your pants off.” He undoes the snaps, letting your hands follow his when he pushes them down. 

“I should make you wear panties.” He moans, deep, dragging from his chest, and he wants it.

He wears the satin kind that wraps around his cock like a fucking hug.

You asked him once, kicked your legs when he dropped his pants and showed the silk blue panties. The black bow stretched from the curve of his cock and you’d cooed at him as he leaked. 

“Please.” 

You chuckle, “Go into the closet, baby, get your clothes, and come back out here.” 

He forgot to kick off once to fly. He rose higher than before but couldn’t straighten himself out and free-fell to the ground. Leaving you behind in your bed, if only to change clothes, feels scarier than falling to his death.

(He thought so at fourteen, at least)

He goes as told first to the adjoining bathroom to find his toothbrush and scrub his mouth raw. Afterwards, with mint stinging his tongue he steps into the closet flicking on the light as he steps inside. Instinct that takes him to the dresser on the left old wood, and broken handles. The shirts are in the second drawer and he pulls a soft green one from the confines followed by a pair of shorts that stop mid-thigh. 

You smile at him when he wears them, crooking your finger and beckoning him closer. 

You laid out on the bed again, a joint in your fingers the smoke rising from your lips in concentric rings. He follows them with his eyes as he steps closer, hitching his knee onto the bed. You open your legs, guiding him to slide between them, and lay back on your chest. 

The smoke smells that pungent weed smell he detests. 

Drugs only worked on him in copious amounts and what’s the point of that when a simple word from you is the greatest high he’s ever experienced?

“Mommy-” You take another drag, blowing it out then sucking in another. He hears your heart slowing down, feels your body relax under him, and knows happy snuggles are his to have. 

When the joint has burned to your fingers, you stubbed it on your nightstand, burning marks into the deep wood, “Come here, Sweet Boy.” Your leg drapes over his hip as the other settles to the side. One hand goes to his hair and the other rests on his back. “Rest. If you’re good, I’ll give you a surprise.” 

He closes his eyes with a smile.

[pretty-blkgirl]

Jinnie Day

//gn!reader x Hyunjin//

Synopsis: You and Hyunjin celebrate his birthday

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: It’s our Hyunjin’s birthday 🤗 I wanted to write something that was a little more affectionate and loving, since he deserves all the love, support, and happiness in the world 🫶🏾

~~~~|~~~~

“Hold still, almost done” You whisper, face full of concentration as you paint a second coat of nail polish onto your boyfriend’s nail.

Hyunjin, absolutely smitten by you, tried to hold in his chuckle as he watched you finish up. You immediately start to blow lightly on the nail.

The music in the background plays lowly -it’s a soft song, a love song- as you wait for the paint to dry.

Hyunjin asked you to do his nails for the small get-together you both are having for his birthday later. He asked you to paint them because he swears he always seems to mess up when he tries to do them on his own.

In reality, Hyunjin can do his nails just fine, but he knows how excited you get when he asks for your help. Your eyes lit up as you went to grab all your supplies.

“I still don’t know what I’m wearing tonight,” He says as you check the shiny, black paint on his nails, “Wanna help me pick an outfit?”

You nod without hesitation, immediately getting up and pulling your boyfriend with you

“What color you wanna wear?” You ask as you two walk to the bedroom. Hyunjin smiles brightly behind you as you drag him through the halls

“I don’t know, how about you pick?”

You waste no time heading for the closet when you two reach the room. He has a lot of clothes, some that he bought and others from his ambassadorship.

There are too many clothes to choose from, so you close your eyes and reach out for a shirt. Hyunjin breaks out into a fit of hysterics -which makes you giggle- it’s always been easy to make him laugh.

You end up with a light brown, silk shirt that you’ve never seen him wear before.

“Let’s do this shirt, you love brown.” You say, handing him the shirt and moving on to pants.

“I love you,” He says without missing a beat

You roll your eyes fondly and pick out some white pants

“I love you too Jinnie,” you say as you pass the clothes to him. He decided to throw the clothes on the bed and latch onto you, hugging you tightly as you let out a startled laugh.

“Affectionate today?” You ask, he hums softly and pulls his head back to look at you

“Aren’t I always affectionate?”

“Not like this, you’ve been on me all day today”

“Are you complaining?”

“Nope”

You two stay in a warm embrace for another 5 minutes before you convince Hyunjin to start getting ready.

As he’s in the shower, you run to your office and check on the gifts you got him, along with the other gifts some of the members asked you to hide for them.

You head back to the bedroom to grab your clothes and accessories, then you go to the guest bathroom to take a shower.

By the time you’re completely ready, Hyunjin has been dressed and lying on the bed to wait for you.

“You look handsome,” You say when you finally get a good look at him

“Thank you, baby, you look gorgeous as always”

Hyunjin gets up from the bed and decides to latch on to you once more. You always found it endearing every time he chose to hug you, even though he’s done it a minimum of 24 times already.

He usually has a sort of indifference towards his birthday, so him being so happy and loving makes you feel so good. You’d gladly take all the hugs, kisses, and fond looks he threw at you if it meant he’d enjoy his day to the fullest.

This hug lasted maybe two minutes before a loud knock was heard from the living room.

“It’s the boys” you whisper, making Hyunjin groan and hold you closer

“Can’t we just celebrate alone?” He asks, even though he begins to let you go

“Nope. They wanna celebrate you! Plus, Minho is cooking so-”

Hyunjin didn’t even let you finish before he dashed to the living room to open the door

You laugh again, hearing the immediate sounds of loud congratulatory words, teasing, and laughter from the members.

Hyunjin was surrounded by so much love and support, and that made you the happiest person alive.

When you get to the living room, he pulls you by his side as the members start to greet you

He whispers another “I love you” into your ear

You, completely flustered, whisper it back, adding in a jovial “Happy Birthday”

[its-luna-noel]

pirouettes & the ghost of harman street | gojo x reader

06. baby i'm hurt so bad by you

"Baby, I'm hurt so bad by you I also think about how nice it'd be, to fall in love again I won't expect the same" ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Satoru Gojo lost his best friend, his partner, his other half. He's terrified when another friend falls for him. He can’t let this time be like the last.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, eventual smut, friends to lovers, past satosugu, drinking, partying, brief non-con & past non-con trauma, depression, past suic!de, grief/loss, panic attacks, some dark themes but i promise this is a comfort fic

word count: 4.6k

chapter: 6/10 prev. chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hey hey, dropping by with your regularly scheduled content warnings: past non-con, past suic!de, le trauma

You’ve started to pull away, and you can tell that Satoru has noticed.

It’s New Year’s Eve and the five of you have planned a party at his place, inflating balloons, putting up gold streamers, and throwing around gold confetti to decorate his apartment.

You spent all that time clinging to Utahime, who had a habit of avoiding Satoru like the plague, simply on principle.

Then the five of you parted, and now you’re getting ready at your own apartment, still in your sweatpants as you do your hair and makeup. Your favorite music plays in the background, and you hum along while you paint your eyelids with glitter.

You’re going all out for the holiday, because you always do.

Your phone is on silent as messages come in.

|| Satoru Gojo: Where you at???

|| Satoru Gojo: Pregame starting

|| Shoko Ieiri: You good?

|| Satoru Gojo: :((( You’re missing pregame

You’re ignoring them as your friends flood your phone with messages.

Finally, as you’re coating your lashes with mascara, lips parted as you watch yourself carefully in the mirror, your phone screen flashes. You glance over to see Utahime’s contact photo on the screen. You sigh and pick up the phone, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

It’s loud on the other side of the line, music bumping in the background. Utahime has to shout a little to be heard. “Hello? Where are you?”

“I’m on the way,” you lie.

“You’ve been saying that for half an hour!”

You hear a familiar voice in the background. “Gimme the phone.” Then, after a whiny scuffle, Satoru calls into the phone. “Princess! What the hell; you’re super late. We’re starting shots already.”

You sigh. “I’m on the way. I’m sorry I’m running late.”

He sounds confused. “Not like you, is all. What’s up?”

“My makeup is just taking longer than I thought it would.”

He grumbles, but there’s a small laugh in his voice. “Get over here! We’ll see you soon.”

“Yep. See you soon.”

He hangs up, and you just sigh, tossing the phone onto your bed.

You get dressed in the sparkly dress you picked out when you went shopping with the girls weeks ago; now, it seems almost inappropriate to wear to a party at your friend’s apartment. You chew on your lip, appraising your appearance in the mirror, tugging at the sheer long sleeves, until you finally decide screw it, and you tug on your shoes. Then you grab your purse and hurry out of the house, knowing if you don’t hurry, you’ll get another call from the others.

When you arrive at Satoru’s, guests are already starting to arrive, dressed in varying levels of finery for the New Year’s party. You shuffle in among a group of them, using the bodies to hide from searching gazes as you make your way to the kitchen for a drink.

Nanami is there. He nods to you and waves. “You’re late,” he observes.”

“Sorry,” you say, joining him at the kitchen counter. “Pour me something?”

He obliges and makes you a drink, something he knows you like. Then he sends you on your way, pointing across the apartment towards Shoko and Utahime.

You start making your way over, waving at them above the heads of the crowd.

“Hey!” Utahime cries, throwing her arms around you. Her breath smells like alcohol. “Where the hell have you been? We missed you!”

“Sorry,” you say again, sighing. You gesture towards your makeup. “Took a while.”

“You look great,” Shoko says. “But you missed shots.”

You brandish the drink Nanami made you. “I’ll get started.”

“Princess!” calls a familiar voice, the only person who calls you that, and you repress another sigh as you turn.

Satoru walks over, dressed in dark jeans and a slim shirt that cuts his figure just right. He grabs your arm, fingers resting lightly on your wrist, as he flashes one of his brilliant, charming smiles. “Hey!” he says, pulling you towards him so he can speak to you properly. “I’ve hardly seen you today. You look great!”

You look more than great; you look beautiful, radiant. Your makeup brings out your eyes, and the dress looks divine on you. Every time he looks at you, he gets that same fluttery feeling in his chest as when he saw you appear on stage in The Nutcracker, that same flash of equal parts heat and tenderness.

But he can’t tell you that; it doesn’t even make sense to him, so how can you be expected to take it well?

“But you’re late,” he continues, raising an eyebrow at you.

You just nod and sigh. “So I’ve been told.”

He laughs, tossing his head back. His cheeks are lightly flushed with intoxication. “Don’t be sour. Come on, let’s get you something stronger. I’ll take a shot or two with you. But no getting sick this time.” He winks at you.

Your stomach clenches at the sight, and you can’t help but look up at him a little too long as he slings his arm around your shoulders and pulls you through the crowd of people. “Satoru…” you mumble as he leads you to the kitchen.

He leans down so he can look you in the eye. “It’s alright,” he says, voice low and earnest. He gives your shoulders a squeeze. “You’re safe with me. ‘Kay?”

You just nod, stomach still tight. But, despite everything, you believe him.

You trust him.

You’re falling for him.

He claps Nanami on the back and reaches around him for a bottle to pour you something. “I’ll make you something good.” He winks again, smirking.

You can’t help the small smile that curves your lips. He remembers; he knows.

He mixes you both a shot, pouring it into glasses and shooting it back with you. He immediately makes another. “You were late,” he says again, but his voice is incredibly soft, and when you look up at him, his eyes flash up to meet yours. “Something wrong?”

You hesitate, then shake your head. “No,” you lie.

He nods, looking back at the drinks he’s making. You can’t decide if he believes you or not.

After a while, though, you don’t have to guess. “Is it about…what you said last time we went out?”

Your thoughts flash to the last time you all went out, after The Nutcracker. You remember snapping at him, getting defensive, because he reminded you…

Of the last time.

You shake your head. You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince.

His voice is still soft. “You can tell me. Not now; I know it’s probably not the setting you want. But…you can trust me. I…I won’t judge you, or hurt you, or whatever you’re afraid of. And, whoever it was, I’ll beat the shit out of them for hurting you. But, I can’t do anything unless you open up, princess.”

He’s right; you know he’s right. About everything, that he can’t help unless he knows, that you should open up, that one day you should finally tell him.

Tell him how one night when you were drunk, with a best friend, the last person you trusted, he kissed you. And then he didn’t stop. And you couldn’t even ask him to stop, couldn’t tell him no, because you thought, for all his friendship, for all his patience, that you owed him something.

So you said yes, when you really meant no.

And when he was done, you just thought to yourself, “What the hell did I do?”

But you won’t tell him yet. Not tonight.

You nod a little, pressing your lips together. “Okay,” you say, voice shy and quiet. “I will.”

He nods, smiling gently. “Alright. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.” And then he slides your shot glass towards you, and you knock another back.

He blows out a breath and shakes his head, cheeks flushed more deeply. He chuckles sheepishly. “I gotta slow down. You’re welcome to keep going.”

You shake your head, too, and the movement makes you a little dizzy as alcohol starts to settle in your system. You nurse the drink Nanami made you, chasing the shot. “I’ll be alright with this, I think. At least for now.”

He grins and leans in close, eyes glittering mischievously. “Then let’s get going, princess. After all, we’ve all gotta find someone to kiss before midnight.”

And as he walks in front of you, you can’t help but think that the one person you really want to kiss at this party just turned his back on you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You don’t find someone to kiss before midnight.

You’re sure you could’ve; there were plenty of people at this party, several of whom you were familiar with and could’ve smooth talked into a midnight kiss. But you didn’t feel like mingling, didn’t feel like flirting when your thoughts were on someone else.

So you drown yourself in alcohol instead, until you’re a stumbling, giggling mess. And then, when the countdown starts, you’re out on the balcony, eyes closed against the cold breeze, goosebumps rising along your arms.

“Ten, nine, eight–!”

You open your eyes and stare out at the street below. It’s empty; everyone else is home, or out celebrating. And here you are, alone in your little spot in this world.

“Seven, six, five–!”

You lean against the railing, the cool metal, looking down at the balconies below you. You wonder who’s home, who’s out partying, who’s celebrating the night with someone special.

“Four, three, two–!”

Suddenly, the balcony door slides open, and warm arms are wrapped around you, pulling you back. You gasp and look up, and Satoru’s face is buried in your shoulder, and his hands are pressed tightly against you, holding you tight against him.

“Don’t jump,” he whispers, and he’s begging, and your breath catches.

“Satoru, what–? Why would you think–?” And then you remember, you remember the story about the bridge, about the cold water waiting for his best friend, his other half, and your body sags back against his chest. “Satoru, I wasn’t–”

He’s shaking, holding you so tightly you’re having a little trouble breathing. His breath hitches and breaks against your throat, and then he’s breaking away, turning to shut the balcony door because he left it open in his rush to get to you, and once it clicks closed, he wheels around, chest heaving as he looks at you.

“What the hell were you doing then?” he demands, breathless, still shaking because he thought he was going to watch it this time, thought he was going to watch you drop out of his sight– 

You shake your head, brows creased. “I was just– I was just taking a breather. I promise.”

“You’re so stupid,” he says, but there’s no venom in his voice, and he just steps forward and wraps you up again, holding you against his chest. “So, so stupid.”

You just hold him back, rubbing his back slowly. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “I’m here.”

And he hugs you until he convinces himself that you’re there, that you’re not leaving like Suguru did.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“Satoru,” you whine, tugging at your arm, “I’m fine.”

He shakes his head and tightens his hand around your bicep, keeping you from pulling away. “I’m not letting you walk home alone, princess. You’re either staying here, or I’m walking you home.”

You let out another wordless whine, and he rolls his eyes at you.

He’s really not in the mood.

You’re even drunker than you were before midnight; hours have passed, and you had a couple more drinks, and now your vision takes a while to focus every time you turn your head too fast. But you try to convince him that you’ll be fine, because you don’t want to burden him.

Shoko just pats your head, guiding Utahime out with hands on her shoulders. “Have a good night.” She gives Satoru a look that says good luck.

Satoru sighs. He’ll need it.

He turns back to you. “So, which is it?” he asks again, for what seems like the hundredth time. “Your place or mine?”

You grumble, but decide that if he’s going to force you into this, you might as well make it the easiest for him. “Yours.”

He nods, relieved, and guides you past his trashed living room towards the bedroom. “Let’s go, then. Let’s get you in bed.”

As you pass his bathroom, you whine again. “Don’t have any makeup remover?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “I have soap.”

You just grumble again, resigning yourself to sleeping in your makeup.

He leads you to the bedroom, guiding you by the shoulders to sit on his bed. He then digs through his dresser to find suitable pajamas for you, sweatpants and a t-shirt, which he hands to you. “Um, you can get dressed in here, or the bathroom. I, uh, won’t look.”

Your eyes are closed. You’re so tired you think you might fall asleep sitting up like this. So you just start taking off your dress, there on his bed, and he has to look away quickly, flushing slightly as he averts his gaze.

The soft noise of your dress hitting the floor practically echoes through the bedroom. Then, once you’re dressed, you speak up again. “You can look.”

When he turns back, you’re already climbing into bed.

He comes over and helps you pull the blankets up around your shoulders. He can’t help but think that you look good in his clothes. He asks softly, “Want me to sleep on the couch?”

You shake your head and mumble, already half-asleep. “No. Stay.”

So he does, climbing into bed, leaving a respectful distance between you. Then he leans over and turns off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

His heart is racing.

“Good night, princess,” he speaks into the darkness.

You don’t reply. You’re already asleep.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You wake up to sunlight filtering through the curtains, deathly hungover.

You stifle a groan as your head pounds, opening your eyes to look around, eyes bleary, a little disoriented. Then you remember where you are, and your eyes flicker to see Satoru’s sleeping form, his back to you and bundled deep in his blankets. His white hair is fanned across the pillow, and you feel a soft, warm sensation in your chest as you look at him.

You try to shimmy out of the bed without waking him, but he’s a light sleeper. Before your feet even touch the floor, he’s sighing softly and rolling over to look at you.

He smiles, hair messy. “Hey,” he greets quietly.

“Hi,” you whisper, pushing aside the blankets. “Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s alright. Whatcha need?”

“Advil.”

He chuckles and slowly gets up, stretching. You try not to watch his muscles as he moves. “I’ll grab some. Go get some water from the kitchen, I’ll meet you there.”

So you do, steps slow, head aching.

You move around his kitchen with ease, because you’ve filled this space many times, and you’re as comfortable here as you are in your own apartment. You put toast in the toaster, serve water for you both, and are in the middle of pulling the carton of eggs out of the fridge when Satoru rounds the counter with two pills in his hand.

He drops them in your palm, fingers brushing your skin. You feel a shiver run through you at the casual, gentle contact. “Thanks,” you say.

“You’re welcome. How are you feeling?”

You shrug, because it’s not the worst hangover you’ve ever had in his company. He just chuckles and reaches for the eggs. “I got this. You go sit down.”

“I can do it,” you grumble stubbornly.

“Please. I’m the host, you’re the guest. Now do as you’re told.”

“So bossy,” you whine as you shuffle away to the couch.

“And you’re such a brat,” he calls over his shoulder as you walk away.

And oh, you love this, the banter, the way neither of you can hide the sound of smiles in your voices.

He soon joins you on the couch with two plates with eggs and toast, and you eat in comfortable silence as he turns on the television, eyes glued to the screen.

You can’t help but watch him out of the corner of your eye.

You watch him chew, watch the muscles at his jaw and cheek move. You watch him swallow, watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs slightly. You watch his hand hold the piece of toast, long fingers wrapped around the fork as he eats his eggs.

And all the while, you can’t help but fall hopelessly further for him.

The scene is so achingly domestic, the two of you comfortably sitting on the couch, knees just barely brushing as you both watch whatever sports he’s got on this morning. You don’t want the moment to end.

Soon, though, it must. You have to get home.

“I should go,” you say, taking your plate to the kitchen sink.

“I’ll walk you home,” Satoru offers as he follows behind you.

“Satoru, I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he says. He’s sure you will be; it’s morning now, and you’re sober, albeit very hungover. “But I just want to be sure.” And he can’t help but want to spend more time with you. Can’t help but want to follow behind you like a little puppy, because he enjoys this time together, enjoys being so close to you. “Besides, then I can make you change out of my clothes so I don’t lose those sweatpants.” He grins.

So you just sigh, shaking your head with a small smile, and beckon him forward. “Let’s go, then.”

You gather your things, your party dress and your purse, and slide on your shoes and coat. Then you both make your way out into the brisk morning air, squinting into the sunlight.

Satoru lowers his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose. “Did you have fun last night?” he asks.

You nod, watching your feet as you walk along the sidewalk. “Yeah. Sorry I kept you from your New Year’s kiss.”

He shrugs, but there’s a sudden tension to his shoulders at the reminder of what happened last night, of what he thought was happening. “It’s alright. No big deal.”

“I really am sorry,” you say again, and he knows you’re no longer apologizing for stealing his midnight kiss. “I didn’t mean…what you thought I meant.”

“I know, princess. I overreacted. You don’t have to be sorry for that.”

“Well, I am.”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “God, you’re stubborn.”

You smile, and the rest of the walk is spent in a comfortable silence.

It’s not a long way to your apartment; the two of you have made this walk dozens of times over the past several months of your friendship. Soon you’re stepping up to your door, and you unlock it, kicking off your shoes and dropping your things on the back of the couch.

“I’ll go change,” you say. “Just wait here.”

As you walk down the hall to your bedroom, he throws himself down onto your couch, scrolling through his phone while he waits.

And while he waits, you start to think.

You think about something Shoko asked you all, something she asked with a laugh and a big grin.

“Any New Year’s resolutions?”

You didn’t have an answer back then, but you think you might now.

You walk into your bedroom and shut the door behind you, walking over to your dresser. You pull out a pair of your own sweatpants and a sweater you know compliments your eye, and when you take off his t-shirt, you can’t help but close your eyes and bask in the smell of his laundry detergent, his cologne, for one more second before tossing the fabric onto your bed.

This year, I want to be more honest.

You want to say no when you mean no, and yes when you mean yes.

And you want to tell Satoru the truth.

You want to tell him that he’s your best friend, that he means everything to him.

That you think you’re falling in love with him.

But you know what he thinks about all that. You’ve seen him with girls and guys at the bars, seen him flirt with them, bring them home, and ditch them the following week. You’ve heard him complain about commitment, heard him talk about love like it’s something to be thrown away, something to run from, something to rip into shreds before it can blossom into something beautiful.

You know all this, and yet you can’t keep it to yourself.

Because you’ve seen firsthand what hidden feelings can do to friendships.

And you don’t want to see another best friend lost to the destruction it brings.

So when you reemerge from your bedroom and hand him his clothes, sitting down beside him on your couch, your hands shake a little. “Hey, Satoru?”

He turns to look at you, head tilted curiously to the side, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, princess?”

“Can…can we talk about something?”

“Of course we can.” His eyes are a little softer, a little more concerned. “What’s up?”

“Just…just promise you’ll listen, okay?”

“Of course I’ll listen.”

“And…and just know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, or feel a certain way about what I say, but that I just, I just needed to tell you.”

He frowns. He wonders if you’re going to tell him about your previous best friend, the one who hurt you, but why are you prefacing something like that this way? Of course he wouldn’t feel any other way than angry, than protective, than compassionate. “Alright, princess, I promise.”

You take a deep breath, and you avert your eyes, looking at your lap instead of him. He’s sure it’s because you’re uncomfortable talking about something like this, because who wouldn’t be? He watches you gather your thoughts, and then you tentatively speak. “Satoru, I…”

He waits for a long moment. When all that answers is silence, he sighs softly. “You what?”

“I think I’m…falling for you.”

That pulls him up short. The room falls silent. Then, in a strangled voice. “You…you’re falling for me?”

You hold up your hands. “Wait, wait! I just…I just wanted to tell you. Like I said, this doesn’t mean you have to feel that way, or anything like that! But, I think it might be helpful if we just…maybe we take a step back until I’m, um, over it, you know? ‘Cause I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything!”

This wasn’t at all what he expected. He didn’t even know where this was coming from; he thought you were both just friendly, just thought you both were comfortable with each other, that he was finally finding a best friend again after all this time–

But then he realizes how he’s been treating you. The casual touches, the big smiles, the arm around your shoulders at all times, the protective nature, the damn nickname!

And he realizes that, once again, it’s his fault.

“Princess–” He catches himself, and he grits his teeth, because dear god he hasn’t realized that he’s been doing this entire time, leading you on from the very moment he heard your laugh, from the very night he met you at your apartment, all those months ago. “I…I can’t–”

You feel your heart break a little, but you fight to smile, shaking your head lightly. “That’s okay! I said you don’t have to, I just– I just had to tell you–”

“I can’t love you,” he says. “Not how you want me to.”

“I said that’s okay.”

He shakes his head, expression pained. He wants to put his hand on yours, to make you listen, to comfort you as he tells you what he needs to. “I…I can’t love you, princess. I’m so sorry. I can’t give you what you want.”

“Satoru, I–”

He raises his hand to stop you, just for a moment. Just so he can speak. “But you deserve someone who can,” he continues quietly, and he feels a pain in his chest, a pain so deep he’s not sure if it’s simple regret or if he’s dying. “You deserve to be loved how you want. You deserve someone who doesn’t–” Jesus Christ he’s terrible. “--doesn’t lead you on. I’m so, so sorry, princess, for everything.”

You shake your head again, and your smile starts to fall, because you think you can see where this is going. “Satoru, it’s okay. I didn’t– I didn’t expect you to–”

“You should expect me to. You should be able to expect me to love you back. But I can’t love you.” The way he keeps saying it like that, that he can’t love you, makes your heart ache. “I can’t be what you want me to be. But you knew that, didn’t you? That’s why you told me like that. Why you told me it’s okay to not feel the same way. You knew I can’t give you what you want.”

Your breath catches. “Satoru, I–”

He cuts you off again. “You said we should take a step back.”

“Yes, I… I thought maybe you would want some space while I… get over this.”

He nods, expression serious, even though his eyes flash with agony. “Yeah. I want that.”

You fight to swallow. “Okay. Okay. What… what do you want that to look like?”

He stands, gripping the clothes he lent you in one hand. “I can’t see you anymore.”

Your lips fall open, and you stare up at him as he walks away and starts to get his shoes on. Then you scramble up from the couch and follow after him. “Wait, what? I thought– I meant maybe we shouldn’t hang out all the time like this, meant we shouldn’t sleep in the same bed! You– You don’t want to see me anymore?”

That’s the furthest thing from the truth. He wants to see you, needs to see you, but not like this. Not when he knows all he’s done is hurt you, and all he will do is continue to hurt you. “I don’t. Not like this.”

“B-But you’re my best friend!” you bleat.

“Not anymore.”

The words visibly shatter you, and he sees tears in your eyes. His heart clenches; he’s never seen you cry. “What do you mean?” you whisper, voice shaking.

“I can’t be best friends with you anymore.”

Your lower lip trembles as you fight back tears, but he watches you hold yourself together, watches you pretend to be strong for him. Just like you always have. “Okay,” you whisper, “I understand.”

He pulls on his coat, wrapping his scarf around his neck. You watch him move. You’re still whispering when you speak again. “Are we…are we still friends at all?”

He turns to face the wall, so you can’t see his expression, and closes his eyes against the wave of agony washing through him. Then he steels himself and opens his eyes, walking towards the front door. “No. I’m sorry.”

He can hear the catch in your breath, the sob you try to hold back, as tears finally overflow onto your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to ruin this.”

“I know. You didn’t. This is my fault.” He grabs the doorknob and twists, and a gust of winter air blows into your apartment as he steps across the threshold, out into the wide, empty world, without you by his side. “See you around.”

And in the end, when he leaves, he doesn’t even say goodbye. And he doesn’t even call you “princess” one more time before he shuts the door behind him.

thanks for reading! -luna xx prev. chapter | next chapter

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 21 Prompt: Home and/or Dinner

I honestly think this is my favorite one yet!

Tags: Pre-Relationship Steddie, Eddie Munson Has A Crush On Steve Harrington, Holiday Parties, Overstimulation (the bad kind, not the fun kind), Steve Harrington Is A Sweetheart

wc: 2215 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

The holidays were always a quiet affair at the Munsons.

A few gifts, wrapped in week-old copies of the Hawkins Post, placed under a modest tree from Merrill’s. Wayne’s famous (well, famous to Eddie) chocolate chip pancakes in the morning with a questionable amount of syrup and a reheated casserole from Ms. Jenkins down the street for dinner.

No church or family plans, just the two of them, a couple of beers (root beer in Eddie’s case until a few years ago), and whatever movie Eddie had insisted they watch before he turned the TV over to Wayne and the Christmas basketball game.

It was good. Great, even.

Eddie loved his holiday traditions with Wayne.

He did, but sometimes he’d catch sight of Ms. Jenkins welcoming her brood of kids and grandkids into her cluttered trailer or spot Gerald loading the passenger seat of his pickup with toys for his nieces and nephews and wonder what it would be like to have a big family to spend the holidays with.

Turns out, it’s loud.

So, very, loud.

The Hopper-Byers’ new house is bursting at the seams with guests. The entire We Survived The End of the World gang is here along with some guests — Wayne and Ms. Henderson. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair stopped by for about an hour before excusing themselves to finish up holiday shopping (said in a hushed tone to not ruin Santa for Erica — as if she still believes, Eddie had thought). But mostly it was just the usual gang.

Eddie learned, in the form of Dustin’s “you’re being stupid” voice that it's become a tradition for them. Gathering a week before the holidays to pig out on food and dessert, play games, and exchange presents. Celebrate the year coming to an end and them making it.

As the apocalypse gang grew every year, the celebration got bigger and bigger until they were tripping over each other inside of the Byers house. That is, until this year when Joyce and Hopper got their shit together and finally moved into a decent-sized house on the outskirts of Hawkins. It’s no Loch Nora mini-mansion, but it works for them — even if it's still a tight fit when everyone is together.

Murray, Joyce, and Ms. Henderson are gathered in the kitchen — arguing over when to take the turkey out of the oven and the proper milk-to-cheese ratio in macaroni casseroles. A small radio sits in the corner, attempting to play Christmas music over the static. That’s the con about living farther out, Eddie supposes.

El and Max have claimed a fold-out table on the outskirts of the kitchen where they’ve been decorating cookies for hours, it seems. El’s simple and artistic, Max’s a chaotic mess of spilled-over frosting and candy sprinkles. (Eddie’s stolen one from each and thinks they’re both delicious much to their delight.)

The den’s been co-opted by Hopper and Wayne, and the TV volume turned all the way up (“We can hear just fine! It’s you kids that are making it hard,” Hopper gruffed when one of them pointed out the volume). They’re switching between basketball games while nursing beers and pretending not to hear the argument going down in the kitchen.

Jonathan and Argyle are hiding out in his room — smoking and trying to drown out the noise with whatever record he managed to pick up from the store he’s working at. Eddie thought about joining him, but the scowl he earned from Wheeler Jr. had him changing course.

The rest of them have taken refuge in the spacious basement. It’s too chaotic for Dungeons & Dragons so the boys and Erica have taken to playing an intense game of Monopoly. The threats he’s heard hurled at each other have been clever and downright terrifying. Way worse than anything they’ve uttered at his DM table. Those heathens.

For some reason, Steve’s taken on the role of the banker. Something about Dustin skimming from the top last time he held the role and played. Now, house rules say the banker has to be an NPC, and well, Steve fits the bill. Unfortunately, he seems to be struggling with the math of it all judging by the scoffs and annoyed eye rolls thrown his way. Eddie would go help, but he doesn’t think he’d be much help. Godspeed, Steve.

Nancy and Robin are there too, sprawled out on the couch and lost in their own little world. Occasionally Robin gets up to flip the record on the record player, but mostly they sit together, gossiping and talking about who knows what in hushed voices. Eddie might understand every little thing about dungeons and hobbits, but girl talk? That’s an alien language if he’s ever seen one.

As for him? Well, he’s hovering in the middle of it all. With Steve occupied, he’s taken on his babysitter role of sorts. Racing up and down the stairs to fetch whatever snacks the gremlins demand, rustling Max and El’s hair on the way in, and nodding at Hopper and Wayne on the way out. He narrowly escapes being sucked into being the official judge for the impromptu Murray vs Ms. Henderson pie off and almost makes it up to Jonathan and Argyle’s room before Dustin is bellowing for him.

It’s fun, mostly.

Getting to see everyone relaxed and having fun. A far cry from the last time they were all together like this back in March.

In some ways, it's what Eddie’s always dreamed it would be like. Being part of a big family, a cog in a never-ending machine of noise and organized chaos.

But it’s also becoming a lot.

Lucas is about to put a hotel on Boardwalk that has everyone shouting and throwing their own pieces at his head. Steve’s trying to keep them under control but it's a losing battle. One that pulls Robin and Nancy from their own little world to join the chaos.

And then there’s even more noise.

A crash from upstairs, the blaring voice of Joe Strummer coming from Jonathan’s room, more shouting, Wayne and Hoppers stopping, and giggles from Max and El.

Suddenly all Eddie can hear is noise.

It gets louder and louder and louder until finally, he’s certain his eardrums are going to explode.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he pushes through the chaos going on upstairs (dropped pies and frosting stains and shouting at TVs) and makes his way onto the wrap-around porch.

The crisp cold air is the first thing that hits him. Like an idiot, he ran out of the house without a coat or scarf or hell, even the warm hat Ms. Henderson knitted for him earlier in the month. He shivers, rubbing his hands up and down his bare arm as he tries to take deep breaths, watching as his warm breath twirls in the breeze.

As his body adjusts, so do his ears. He can still hear the chaos going on inside, but it's muffled now. Distant. He can hear himself think for the first time in hours and for once, it’s nice.

The snow is falling in slow but steady flakes, dusting the backyard in the white. Or, it should be white, but the hoard of Christmas lights decorating the house illuminates the backyard in reds and greens. It’s a real Christmas wonderland out there, now.

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and his trusty lighter. The first inhale of nicotine warms him from the inside out, sending the goosebumps packing as he focuses on his steady and slow inhale and exhales.

At some point he zones out, so focused on the snow falling and the repetitive nature of lifting the cigarette to and from his lips that he doesn’t hear the creak of the door or the heavy footsteps that follow until the intruder is standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

“Figured you might be needing this,” Steve says, hand outstretched with Eddie’s coat.

“Thanks, man.”

They swap, Eddie takes the coat from Steve and Steve takes the lit cigarette from Eddie, keeping it safe while he shimmies his way into the monstrosity that he calls his winter coat. When he’s finally situated in the plaid nightmare, he reaches a hand out ready to take his cigarette back only to find it perched between Steve’s lips.

Oh.

That’s different.

Sure, they’ve smoked together before. Bummed off cigarettes in the ally behind Family Video and in the parking lot of Palace Arcade waiting for the gremlins to be done. But they’ve never shared the same one. Never pressed their lips to the same filter. Felt the dampness of their mouths on their own lips.

“Sorry,” Steve says, lips turning up in a small smile as he removes the cigarette. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Eddie nods, unable to say much else as their fingertips brush when he takes it back. Is it weird if he puts it between his lips right now? Is he supposed to wait a minute? Let Steve’s taste linger for a moment. God, he’s being so weird right now. In the end, he brings the cigarette to his lips and takes the smallest inhale, nearly coughing as the smoke floods his lungs because he’s so distracted by the way the filter feels different now that it’s been in Steve’s mouth — as if that makes any sense.

“You okay? You sort of booked it out of the room.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, before leaning against the banister of the porch. “Yeah, m’good. It just—“

“Got too loud?” Steve supplies, mirroring his position. “I get it. I remember my first holiday dinner. There were a lot less of us in ’83 but shit. It was still so loud.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m a pretty loud son of a bitch.” Eddie’s caught off guard by Steve’s snorting. Stealing a glance, he finds Steve lit up in reds and greens, a smile etched on his face so deep he can see the spot where smile lines are going to emerge in the next ten years, catching the way his eyes already wrinkle in the corners. Fuck, he’s beautiful. “But, uh, yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house that loud before. Not even when I’m fucking around with the Corroded Coffin boys.”

“Well, I doubt that. Your music is very loud.”

“Uh, yeah, ‘cause it's metal, Steve.”

“So I’ve been told,” Steve says, smiling that soft, private smile again.

If Eddie was braver, he’d close the distance between them and press his lips to his. But if this year has taught him anything, it’s that he’s not. Not really. So he lets a quiet fall between them instead. They continue to stand shoulder to shoulder, passing the dwindling cigarette between them despite the pack in Eddie’s pocket being brand new, and watch as the snow steadily starts to pick up.

“You know,” Steve says, then stops.

Eddie turns, watching the gears tick in Steve’s brain as he decides what to say next. It’s magical watching it all pass on his face — the knit of his brows, his pupils dilating and returning to their normal size, letting the hazel shine through. The way his lips open and close like some gasping fish.

“If it ever gets to be too much, you can tell us. Tell me. Hell, I know I need a break after a few hours with those shitheads. Maybe we could come up with a code word or something.”

“A codeword? That’s might nerdy of you, Steve.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving his hand through the air as he bites back a chuckle. “But yeah, a code word. It’d be easier to say than “hey it’s too loud and I can’t think” you know. Plus, it would annoy the shit out of Henderson.”

“Well, then. Count me in. You know I love annoying the shit out of that kid. Gotta keep that ego in check somehow.”

They spend the next few minutes going back and forth trying to decide on a word that could work. Steve wants something common — a fruit or a vegetable. Eddie disagrees, saying it has to be something uncommon so they don’t accidentally say it, but common enough that it doesn’t sound weird casually being dropped in conversation.

They wrack their brain, throwing out silly words left and right until there’s a crash from inside. Their heads swivel in tandem toward the source of the noise. A flurry of shadows passes on the other side of the window as Steve shakes his head and sighs.

“Come on,” he says, handing the cigarette back to Eddie. “If we’re not at the table the minute the food gets served, we won’t be eating. The gremlins know no manner.”

Eddie laughs, stubbing out the cigarette on the ashtray precariously balanced on the banister, “Teaching ‘em manners seems like a job for their babysitter.”

“Nah,” Steve snorts. “Maybe one for their Dungeon Master, though.”

Just as the words leave Steve’s lip, there’s a shout from inside followed by another crash.

“Think it might be a job for both of us, actually,” Eddie laughs. “Together?”

“We need all the help we can get,” Steve says. “Together it is.” 

[lyrakanefanatic]

tig couple hcs part 2: avery and jameson

——————————————————————————

• they don’t have that similar music tastes, (as avery just kind of listens to the same 3 songs on repeat until she gets sick of them and looks for another 3 songs to listen to 😭☠️) but when they started dating, they started liking each others music. now when she’s in the car, avery tends to play jamesons playlists

• avery very much does not enjoy those events that alisa forces her to go to when her and jamie get in trouble, so jameson ends up being her hype man. he whispers chants in her ear, like “go avery! go avery! you can do this! go heiress!” so that she feels a bit better going (and so that she laughs bc jameson loves her laugh)

• her and jameson definitely did that “you better lock your phone” trend (the one where you scoop your partner up while running)

• they try the weirdest food combos when they get bored with max and xander, bc those two are weird food combo PROS.

• when they first started dating, avery tried to avoid pda. she would kind of avoid kissing him in front of his family ESPECIALLY his brothers because she felt awkward doing it at first. that was until she learned that they really didn’t care and now she’s fine with it

• i already said something like this in one of my other posts a while ago, but when jameson leaves his clothes in averys room and avery tells him, he always says “must be one of your other guys 😪😓😢”.

• because of this ⬆️, another awkward situation emerged at dinner:

• nan: “hey boy, what happened to that nice suit jacket i gave you for your birthday?”

• jameson: “oh, im not sure. maybe i left it in averys room?”

• avery: “oh yeah, you did. there are two on my dresser, so one should be it.”

• jameson, while smirking: “oh, i actually don’t think those are mine. must be one of your other guys that came over.” the table immediately goes quiet as the older residents of the hawthorne house shoot shocked and disgusted looks at avery. avery looks at him with a “really?” expression, and nash and xander, who knew what was going on, were dying laughing. even GRAYSON was smiling.

• jameson then goes into a deep explanation of the joke, and nan yells at him for putting that “poor girl” (avery) through that. he’s now banned from making jokes at the dinner table. 😪

• sometimes jameson sleep talks, and has like, ongoing convos with avery in his sleep. sometimes avery will lead it on bc she finds it funny, (he always asks her random stuff) but most times she just says “go to sleep, jamie” and he goes to sleep right away. (while making this i heard my dad snoring two rooms away 😔 HE IS SO LOUD!!)

• after nash proposed to libby, jameson made a joke before they went to sleep about proposing to avery, and she just laughed it off. but the next morning when she woke up and saw that he was still asleep, she whispered “i would love to get married to you someday” almost to herself, before kissing him on the forehead and snuggling into him. jameson never mentioned afterwards, but he heard what she said.

• avery actually loves the entire toy story saga and watched all the movies with jameson. they get some of libbys baked goods, tons of candy, and watch it. it used to be their alone time where they could snuggle up against each other and share kisses, but then by the time they were rewatching the second movie, xander found out that they watched those movies and busted in. now all the movie nights are jameson, avery….. and xander. ☠️

• avery wears his sweaters and jameson wears her necklaces

• on nights like mothers day, hannahs death date, or even fathers day they usually end the day with a movie while jameson distracts her by whispering sweet nothings in her ear and covering her with kisses 💗💗

• whenever they go to those fancy galas, they pass the time by looking at guests and creating “characters” for them. for example, jameson will look at a balding guy and say “he has bald spots because he was a lab rat for a mad scientist years ago, who used to zap his head with acids”. avery pretends to not like it but she actually does and laughs whenever he makes far fetched assumptions of the guests’ backstories.

• through out the grandest game, when they can’t sleep at night, they gossip about the contestants. yes, even AVERY does. they don’t ever say bad things about them and automatically assume the best, but they talk about tension/fueds between some. they talk about how it might play out, and sometimes jameson makes jokes about two of the contestants dating. yes, he would endlessly gossip about lyra and grayson. ☠️

——————————————————————————

[vanishingcherry]

Hey Leah, hope you’re doing good. If you’re taking requests, please could I get either Charles or Lando x fem reader. I had a really shitty day and my friends seem really distant and I feel super sad. Thank you x

PIANO LESSONS

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

author's note: heyy! im so sorry about your day... i hope you're feeling better now 🥰. im sorry its a bit late, ive just been in a writing slump and didn't have anything finished. ive had this in my drafts for a while tho so here you go!

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

It was summer break, which meant Charles was home for over 2 weeks and you had him all to yourself. Granted, you did have days in which you would go out with family and friends, but it was a manner of speaking. It meant that you would be together almost 24/7 for days at a time, something rare in his career.

That was why the two of you had pre-decided to make the most of it. Charles felt guilty sometimes, about not being, in his words, the boyfriend you deserved. Although you had told him multiple times that he was perfect, he held on to that insecurity, which is why you went along with everything he planned, knowing that all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

You could honestly say you had been on more dates in the last week than you had so far in the year. There were the simple dinner dates, movie dates, hiking dates and also the more unique ones, such as the one that ended with, for some reason, throwing paint on each other.

But with all that, there were also the more quiet days. The days in which the two of you would stay in your apartment all day long. Those were your favourite days. There was something special about being able to wake up late, not having to worry about work or some sort of event.

"Have you been awake a while?" you whisper, shifting so that you would be closer to him, tucking your head under his own as he continues to run his fingers through your hair.

"Ouais." he murmurs. Yeah. "Mais c'est bien. I like looking at you."

It was another one of these days, and you were coming back from the kitchen with a snack when you heard the soft notes of the piano. Smiling, you switched off your phone and walked into the makeshift studio you and Charles had converted a guest bedroom into.

He had taken piano lessons during quarantine, and you had never been happier with his decision. There would be times in which you would come home from work, the sound of music immediately putting you in a state of relaxation.

You stand in the doorway, watching as his fingers dance across the keys. A few minutes later, when he stops playing, you walk over and sit next to him.

"What piece was that?" you ask softly, not wanting to speak too loud. You rest your head on his shoulder, offering him a chip from your bowl.

"Did you like it?" he replies, answering with a question of his own.

"Yeah, it was beautiful. I loved it."

"It's mine. I made it." he admits sheepishly. "I was just trying something out."

"REALLY? Oh my god, amour!" Your eyes widen at his words, head turning towards him in disbelief.

"Yeah. You actually like it?"

"Yes, of course! Oh my god, bebe. How did you- I'm so proud."

He shyly smiles at your praise, before piping up. "Do you want me to teach you?"

"Your song?" you ask, clearly excited.

"Well" he starts. "Maybe not my song right now, but I can teach you an easier song... and then we can work up to my song?"

"Ouais! I can't believe I never thought of that before."

He smiles at your enthusiasm before wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He then gently takes your hands, placing them on the keys, keeping his fingers over your own. He looks at your expressing for a few seconds, unable to stop the smile from creeping on his face as he realises just how special you are.

"You press this finger and this finger at the same time, and hold it for a second" he directs, after shaking his head to focus, pressing down on the right keys.

You follow his directions, going over ever note a few times before moving on. He was patient, overly so, helping you with the biggest grin as you ask him to repeat the last few steps.

Before you knew it, it had been over an hour, and you had learnt quite a bit of what Charles was teaching you. At this point, both of your attention spans were low, and there wasn't a lot of playing going on. Rather, it was you trying to get through the last few notes before a break while Charles lightly tickled your sides, proving to be an annoyingly cute distraction.

"I think I'm done for today" you sigh, shifting slightly to rest your back against Charles.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm tired." you say.

He nods sympathetically before standing up and pulling on your hands to make you do the same.

"You go to bed and put something on the TV, okay? I'll make dinner and be there soon."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to help?"

"It's just pasta" he replies, shrugging and lightly pushing you in the direction of the bedroom.

"Okay... but I want mine al dente", you emphasize. "Not croccante"

liked by arthurleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 309,857 others

yourusername thanks for the piano lesson @.charlesleclerc

view all 8,547 comments

charlesfan oh to have charles as a piano teacher

scuderiaferrari couple goals

ynfan AUS23 yn's pov when

charlesleclerc of course ❤️... same time tomorrow?

↳ yourusername i'd love to

[wolfytae-exe]

Hiii, I'm here to make an ask jsjss

I've just been thinking about giving Soobin maybe not his first, but definitely his best handjob ever

Like maybe you're both in a new relationship together and you just want to help him because he's stressed and AGHHHH 😩😩😩

I bet he's the type that says "fuck being quiet if it feels good" so he's literally as loud as he can be, not caring anymore

THIS ASKEBJEWNE IM SORRY IM GETTING TO THEM ALL SO LATE😭😭

(mention of alcohol, drabble-ish, slight exhibitionism, Soobin is whiny tbh, Beomgyu is kind of a dick, this is like borderline crack in the beginning, drunk sex acts, shitty ending, subby-ish soobin, slight exhibitionism)

Bunny (s)(d-ish)

Soobin and you have been dating for about a month now, introduced to each other by some mutual friends. I was only common for you both to attend certain house parties said friend hosted from time to time.

Yeonjun loved throwing parties, but especially loved when you and Soobin showed up, you both always truly enjoyed hanging out with him and never go just for the free booze. It really means a lot to him to know you both are his friend too and that he was able to bring you both together, it’s the hopeless romantic in him.

You and Soobin were separated in the crowd, him playing beer pong and you dancing away to the heavy hip hop music; you liked r&b more but a couple drinks loosened you up. Speaking of a couple drinks, Soobin was currently losing and drinking wayyy to much to be the designated driver, you both knew staying over was the only option at this point.

The song switches up a few times and you’ve left to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge despite the crowded space in the house. You pulled out some lime whip shots and started spraying it into your mouth before sneakily putting it back and grabbing left over pizza from the near back of Juns fridge.

You closed up the fridge and lifted your pizza above the sea of bodies while squeezing past, you grip on the crust was actually quite impressive because you managed to make your way into the back of the house without losing not even a freezing cold topping.

You sat on one of the plastic seats as began to eat, ignoring the way Beomgyu walked by and make the most disgusted face you’ve ever seen. “Cold pizza is fucking nasty.” He commented. “Suck my dick.” You replied with your mouth full, opening your legs into a manspread and looking up at him. “I’d rather not take my chances at herpes.” He responded quick, leaving you to gasp and shut your legs as he laughed and patted your back before leaving.

A pout emerged onto your face as you continued to eat your oh so cold pizza. “Y/N!” you heard under the loud music. “Y/N~” You heard again, a bit louder this time “Bunny?” You called back, recognizing the slurred voice. “There you areee~” Soobin giggled as he stumbled out the house and over to you.

“Just eating pizza.” You smiled as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and crouched down. “Yummy- Ahhhhhh” He opened his mouth wide, wanting a bite, this is why you guys were so perfect for each other. You put the pizza in his mouth and pulled when he bit down, breaking the piece off.

Soobin hummed and stood up, planting a kiss on your forehead before letting you know he was heading inside to use the bathroom. You simply nodded and let him leave. Soobin left you with the crust of the pizza which was way to hard to bite so you just threw the rest away.

You took yourself back inside and began asking around for your boyfriend, but the moment you made it towards the steps upstairs you got a text from him telling you to come to the bathroom near the guest room. With a sigh you trudged up the steps and down the hall.

Once you were in front of the door you knocked, not bothering to pay attention to the moans on the other side of the door because it just sound like it was coming from one of the neighboring rooms. When you walked in, really knocking to announce your presence, you were stunned, slamming the door behind you and leaning on it as Soobin leaned on the sink jerking off with muffled moans.

“Fuck, bunny.” You sighed at his unbothered state, jerking off faster now that you were here. “H-help-“ He panted, thrusting into his hand while you just stared. “Y/N!” He whined and you broke out of whatever trance his cock put you in. “Can I?” You asked him with big eyes, contrasting his lust hazed hooded ones. Soobin just nodded, letting go after a few more pumps before you took him into your hands.

His cock was bigger than you thought, his hand made it seem like an average thickness but the moment you touched it you knew, your fingers couldn’t even close around it. “You’re so big, Bunny.” You comment, jerking him off. You both were drunk, not even realizing you were in Yeonjuns guest bathroom or that you were at a party. Not to mention this was your first time being intimate together.

The whine that Soobin let out made you squirm, jerking off the red tip of his cock. “Oh- Fuck- Just like that please- Make me cum please.” He whined and babbled, hips thrusting into your fists.

Your thighs rubbed together and a whimper left your throat. “You like that, Bunny?” You asked, jerking him off faster and planting a kiss to the base of his cock while looking up at him. Sweat sheened on his forehead and neck and his head fell back, “yes-yes, so good-“ Soobin panted, trying hard to whisper.

You couldn’t help but kiss up his shaft and squeezing your fist around the tip of his cock as a response, giggling at his whiny voice. “So cute, Bunny, you’re so loud.” You tease as he loses all control over his voice, the tightness around his cock making his eyes roll back. “Fuck- fuck being quiet- ngh- so good-“ Soobin whimpered, “Cumming- oh fuck im cumming-“ the taller warned with a loud long groan before cum spewed out into your tight fist, throbbing and pulsating hard.

“My god- Binnie~” You gasp as cum dripped down your forearm, you let go of his cock and more cum flung out at the release of pressure, making you yelp when it hit your chest and chin. “Holy shit!” You giggle before standing up and licking the cum of your chin like frosting. “You’re so hot.” Soobin slurred with half open eyes.

“You’re hotter, Bunny.” You slurred back before turning on the sink behind Soobin and running the water over your arms. Soobin moved away from the sink and pulled up his pants. “Thank you, honey.” He mumbled, now tired from one of the best handjob orgasms he’s ever gotten. “For the compliment and the handjob.” He rambled out before jumping hard, feeling his heart jump out of his chest at the loud knock on the bathroom door.

“YOU GUYS BETTER NOT BE FUCKING IN MY BATHROOM.” Yeonjuns voice blared from the other side of the door. “fuck.” You both whispered at the door.

[melodygatesauthor]

The Webs We Weave

Peter B. Parker X Miguel O'Hara

Not Beta Read

I MIGHT write more for this, but as of right now I don't plan for it to be a series.

Summary

Miguel is babysitting May one night while Mary Jane and Peter are on a date. When they come home and Peter is drunk, things take a turn that Miguel wasn't expecting.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, smut, top!Peter, bottom!Miguel, anal sex, we're ignoring anal prep in this one folks, anal creampie, cheating (Peter cheating on MJ), porn with some plot, gay sex, dirty talk, drunk sex, unprotected anal sex.

Word Count: 2k

“Thanks for watching May,” MJ whispered as she walked by Miguel who was sprawled out lazily on the couch.

“Yeah,” Miguel murmured, the fatigue of a long afternoon with the toddler weighing on him.

“I hate to ask this but, Peter is–”

“HEY MIG!” Miguel groaned upon hearing Peter’s voice outdoors, understanding perfectly well what Mary Jane was going to ask of him.

“On it,” Miguel grumbled, making his way to the door.

A drunken Peter was still sitting in the car, playing music far too loud for the neighborhood he lived in, and far too loud for one o’clock in the morning. Not to mention it had been a bit of a struggle to get May to sleep, and Miguel didn’t like the idea of listening to a screaming child all night. He practically ripped the car door off its hinges, turning the radio off before promptly grabbing Peter and pulling him out of the car.

“Will you shut the hell up? Your kid is sleeping.” Miguel hissed through clenched teeth, dragging Peter by the collar of his shirt into the house.

“I’m sorry!” He slurred. “Just trying to have fun with my wife, you know, that’s what I was trying to do!”

“Peter!” MJ whispered harshly, aiding Miguel to the bedroom with her intoxicated husband. “Put him on the bed. You getting drunk every time we have a date night isn’t fun for your wife.”

It was tough to see them like that. Miguel knew how much MJ meant to Peter, and vice versa, but he knew they weren’t happy. They hadn’t been happy for a long time. They’d invite Miguel over for dinner, or sometimes host parties and it would always end in one, or both, of them crying about how miserable they were. 

“Gotta stay together for the kid. I know it might not make sense to you since…”

Peter didn’t say shit like that on purpose, but it always made Miguel wanna knock the guy’s lights out whenever he did. The man’s a fucking idiot, Miguel reminded himself.

“Are you staying?” Mary Jane asked, eyes nearly pleading with Miguel.

He sighed, “yeah, yeah I guess I can. I had plans to go home and get a good night’s rest but yeah I can babysit your husband too. Why the hell not.”

~~~~

Miguel stayed. Of course he stayed. What else was he going to do? Leave his closest friend’s wife to deal with his bullshit? She was choosing to put up with his nonsense as much as Miguel was, but Miguel had a soft spot for Peter and his antics, even if he sported an irritated face ninety-percent of the time. Beneath that tough exterior, he cared deeply for the guy.

Miguel was curled up in the guest room when Peter sauntered down the hallway to the door.

“Mig,” Peter slurred, jumping Miguel in his bed.

“Jesus, Peter. You scared the shit out of–”

“Sh,” Peter shushed, sitting on the bed next to Miguel. “Don’t wanna wake up MJ.”

Miguel could see Peter’s features through the moonlight coming through the large window on the other side of the room. His eyes were underlined with dark circles and hair sticking out in every direction. Miguel’s eyes traced the outline of Peter’s body, white teeshirt sitting loosely over his frame.

“So you thought it was a good idea to wake me up? Peter–”

“I want a divorce, but I don’t want to do that to May.”

Miguel groaned. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard Peter talk like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“You’re drunk. Go to bed.” Miguel grumbled, laying back down and rolling over so his back was to Peter.

“Miguel,” Peter whispered, putting his hand on Miguel’s shoulder.

He tried to shrug Peter’s hand away but the man was persistent. He moved in, curling up behind Miguel and pressing his chest against the larger man’s spine. His arm snaked under Miguel’s arm and around his waist.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m just getting comfy, just relax will ya?” Peter sniffed out a laugh as he cozied up closer behind his friend.

Miguel could feel it, the hard press of Peter's dick against his ass cheek. He tried to ignore it, thinking that drawing attention to it might be more awkward than just letting it go. What Miguel couldn’t ignore, was Peter’s fingers grabbing at the waistband of his boxer-briefs and tugging them down before reaching for Miguel’s to do the same.

“Peter, what the fuck are you doing? Are you stupid?”

“Yeah, but also, really fucking horny, Mig,” he slurred drunkenly. “Be a good friend for me okay? Please?”

Miguel wanted to tell him to stop…didn’t he? This was weird, and it was wrong. MJ was right in the other room, and Peter was his best friend. They’d always been just friends…that’s it.

Miguel heard Peter spit and felt him jerk himself once, and then twice, before sliding his cock between Miguel’s cheeks. Peter couldn’t see the way Miguel was gripping the sheets, nor the way his jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth might break.

“I’ve never done anything like this before so do I like…do I just…”

He moved his hips forward, the fat tip of his cock rested against Miguel’s tight ring of muscle. Miguel exhaled sharply, cock springing to life almost immediately with the prod of Peter’s thick head. He tried to relax, making himself more pliant. Peter pushed forward, his wide girth slipping into Miguel’s hole like it belonged there.

“Holy shit,” Peter breathed, feeling his cock throb inside Miguel’s tight ass. “You’re so tight, Mig.”

Miguel couldn’t respond, the feeling of Peter’s cock stretching him out made his brain short-circuit. He huffed out through his nostrils, fingers digging into the sheets as Peter started rocking himself back and forth. The bed creaked, forcing him to slow just a tad, fearful that Mary Jane would find out what they were doing.

Peter’s dick twitched inside of Miguel again, forcing him to choke back a moan. He still didn’t want to tell Peter he liked it. Part of him, despite his friend already being balls deep in his guts, still wanted to pretend that they weren’t doing what they were doing. Miguel’s cock ached, the glossy tip leaking precum all over the bedding. He rutted forward, the delicious friction of the sheets forcing a soft exhale from his lips.

“God, Mig, you like that hm?” Peter asked, his pace still a slow roll into Miguel, body shuddering every time he bottomed out. “I can hear you whining, it’s cute,” Peter laughed.

“Cállate,” Miguel grumbled, trying to ignore how good it felt to have Peter stretching him out like that.

“Oh come on Mig, you…fuck…you like it,” Peter teased.

Miguel didn’t say a word, not wanting to give Peter the satisfaction of thinking he’d won Miguel over. He was still trying to process the fact that his best friend of the last couple years was buried deep in his ass with the man’s wife sleeping just two doors down. Miguel’s talons extended outward, digging into the extra pillow by his head. He pulled it down to his cock, shuddering at the feeling of his slick length brushing against the fabric.

“Y’know if you roll that thing up just right I bet it would feel amazing,” Peter slurred in Miguel’s ear. “Try it.”

Miguel grumbled but eventually conceded to Peter’s idea, rolling the pillow so it had a hole in the middle and stuffing his dick inside. The fucker was right. It did feel good. He breathed out, bucking his hips forward into the makeshift fleshlight.

“You thinking about me, Mig?” Peter’s hips rolled behind Miguel even faster. “You thinking about how good it would feel to fuck my ass? F-fuck, maybe I’ll l-let you try me out next t-time.”

Peter started struggling to speak, breaths coming out in sharp gasps the closer he got to spilling everything he had into Miguel’s tight hole. Miguel felt Peter’s hands digging into the meat of his narrow hips. His thrusts were getting more ragged and sloppy, and Miguel couldn’t shake the delicious feeling of his own cock throbbing and leaking into the pillow the more he fucked into it.

God he felt depraved, happily letting his drunken friend fuck him dumb while he rutted desperately into a damn pillow. Of all the times Miguel had felt self-loathing, this was near the top of his list. Every time Peter’s cock stuffed him to the brim though, he forgot all about it, mind going numb with nothing but the feeling of his asshole getting railed.

“Peter, this is so f-fucking dumb,” Miguel said, still holding on to the smallest bit of dignity he had left, the part of him that felt bad for Mary Jane.

“Sh,” Peter whispered, nails digging harder into Miguel, “I’m so close Mig, please.”

Peter whined in Miguel’s ear, and how could he possibly say no to that?

Giving in, Miguel started moving along with Peter’s rhythm, fucking the hole he made in the pillow like it belonged to a living, breathing human. Miguel’s mind went blank, filled with nothing but the feeling of his aching cock against the fabric while he rolled his hips faster.

“Oh god Mig, do you want me to come in your ass? I can pull out if you want I…oh shit I’m…” Peter didn’t wait for an answer before he felt his cock twitching and shooting hot ropes deep into Miguel’s tight hole.

“Fuck, Parker, for fuck’s sake…”

Miguel lost it, cum spilling out into the stark white pillow while his asshole contracted around Peter’s dick. He’d never had such a strong orgasm before that night, the feeling forcing his entire body to stiffen and shake with every throb of his cock. They laid there for a while, the room filled with nothing but their combined heavy breaths before Peter finally pulled out, leaving Miguel feeling empty.

“Fuck, Miguel,” he whispered, kissing Miguel’s neck once before pulling his sweats back up around his hips.

Miguel didn’t turn around. He didn’t know what he’d do even if he had. It didn’t feel like the right time for post-sex cuddling and a soft makeout session, so Miguel just kept his body turned away from Peter as the man got up and left the room silently. If not for the cum still dripping out of Miguel’s spent asshole, it would be like Peter was never there in the first place.

When morning came, Miguel wasn’t sure what would happen. Would Peter even remember stealing into Miguel’s room the night before? Would he go on as if nothing ever happened? As far as Miguel was concerned, it would be best if they let it go. How could they possibly continue running the Spider Society as partners if they were…doing things in secret behind the scenes? It didn’t make sense. Not to mention…Mary Jane.

She was smiling when Miguel made his way into the kitchen in the morning, the red headed toddler hanging off her shoulders while she made coffee. Miguel and MJ exchanged pleasantries, but Miguel’s aching rear amplified his guilt tenfold. He felt like he should tell the blissfully ignorant wife that her husband had cheated on her the night before.

Then again…Miguel didn’t exactly do anything to stop it.

“Morning!” Peter exclaimed, coming out of his bedroom with a wide stretch and a loud yawn.

“Morning, Peter,” both Miguel and Mary Jane said in unison, turning to face him.

“I’m so sorry if I caused too much trouble last night, I was deeerunk,” he said nonchalantly, walking up behind MJ at the counter and kissing her on the cheek.

While she was turned away, Peter and Miguel shared a glance where Peter looked Miguel up and down.

“I don’t remember much so, I hope I wasn’t a…pain in the ass…”

Miguel gulped. Peter clearly didn’t intend on ignoring what had happened between them the night before, and Miguel couldn’t shake the new feelings he felt stirring inside.

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