#I had to sit with my face in my hands for a solid five minutes

[thedreadblog]

Me the moment Solas started speaking Elvish

[theemporium]

[1.7k] an early morning birthday treat for your boyfriend hours before the rest of the world needs either of you. (smut)

we are gonna ignore the fact i accidentally hit the post limit yesterday and pretend i actually posted this on his birthday

.

“Good morning, birthday boy.” 

Oscar let out a small hum of acknowledgement, a small smile working its way onto his face but he didn’t bother opening his eyes. Instead, he wound his arm around your waist and tugged you down until you were collapsing down on his chest. He sighed happily, nuzzling himself further against you whilst you wiggled in his embrace. 

“You’re ruining your birthday,” you commented, trying to nudge his arm away so you could sit back up. But Oscar didn’t budge a bit.

“It’s my birthday,” he grumbled, his voice still laced with sleep and his accent coating his slurred words a little thicker than normal. “I get to choose what we do and I choose sleeping.”

“That’s boring,” you retorted, twisting in his hold until you were facing him. You reached a hand out, pushing his hair back until you got an unrestricted view of his face squished against the pillow. 

“I happen to like boring birthdays.” 

You snorted, smiling fondly as you leaned down to press a kiss on the tip of his slightly scrunched nose. “You’re not even going to ask what I planned?” 

“If it includes leaving this bed before I have to head to the track, then I’m not interested,” Oscar mumbled, letting out a sigh as your nails began to scratch along his scalp. “I’m quite happy here. Very content. Very happy birthday boy.”

“And if I said your birthday plans start in bed?” 

Oscar paused for a moment. “I’m listening.”

You grinned, lightly poking his cheek until his eyes slowly fluttered open. “Hey.”

He flashed you a lazy smile. “Hi, baby.”

“Happy birthday,” you murmured before you leaned down, pressing a soft but lingering kiss on his lips. 

“Definitely happy,” he hummed in response, huffing a little when you pushed his shoulder so he was lying on his back. “You’re awfully bossy this morning.”

“You like it,” you teased, throwing one leg over his body until you were settled on his lap. In seconds, his hands were on your waist like the reaction was instinctive. 

“Maybe,” he replied, though the light pink painting his cheeks gave him away. His thumbs lightly swiped along your hip bones, slowly pushing the material of your (his) shirt up until he was met with bare skin. “I have to be at the track by ten.”

“It’s only seven,” you retorted.

“That means we could have had a solid two more hours of sleep,” he pointed out, his eyes still a bit bleary from sleep. He was just grateful enough that one of you remembered to pull the curtains shut last night. “You know, cuddling is good for dopamine and stuff.”

Your lips twitched. “Dopamine and stuff?”

“You woke me up five minutes ago, give me a break,” Oscar grumbled, squeezing your hips to emphasise his point. 

“I know something else that would be good for your dopamine and stuff,” you said, grinning a little as you leaned down to peck his lips. “Something for the birthday boy.”

“You keep saying that but—oh shit.”

You watched his eyes flutter shut, his grip on you tightening as you rolled your hips against his. You ducked your head down, lips pressing chaste, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck as you felt his skin flush under your touch. You felt his thumping pulse pounding, could feel the way his body was reacting to you. 

It was fucking intoxicating. 

“Do you still wanna go back to sleep?” You questioned, your voice teasing and a little patronising as you nipped the skin just below his ear.

“Nuh uh,” he breathed out, shaking his head in response. “This is good. This is better.”

You grinned against his skin.

And maybe it was still-half-asleep brain or maybe Oscar just didn’t want to assume, but he wasn’t really expecting more. It was still painfully early for either of you to be awake right now, especially considering how late you had managed to get to the hotel. And he was honestly more than happy to have this, to have his girl on top of him. To have your hands and your lips and your pretty words. To just have you. 

He wasn’t thinking about where it was leading, he was just stuck in the present moment of you, you, you.

His brain hadn’t even fully caught up until your kisses started moving lower, until a few chaste kisses along his collarbone started to move further down his chest. 

“Babe,” he rasped, his head still a little fuzzy with sleep as your breath fanned over the muscles of his stomach.

“Shhh, relax f’me, Osc,” you murmured between soft kisses, fingers tugging the edge of his boxers down as the urge to mark along his v-line overwhelmed you. 

“I—” But the words were lost in the back of his throat as the heel of your palm pressed against the bulge in his boxers, your lips mouthing at the sensitive skin along his hips. 

His eyes fell shut, his head digging back into the pillow as he let himself enjoy every single inch of his body that was being touched by you. The way his hips bucked against your hand, the front of the fabric already wet and stained with precome as you marked pretty bruises on his pale skin. The way your body settled between his thick thighs, nails grazing along his skin until he was squirming and whining underneath you. The way every cell in his body was just so, so responsive to you. 

A guttural moan escaped the back of his throat as you mouthed along his clothed cock, licking a thick strip over the fabric of his boxers as he helplessly buckled beneath your touch. He didn’t think a single thought in his head was about anything but you. He didn’t think he wanted to think about anything else but you. 

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs and throwing them somewhere off the edge of the bed, neither one of you all too bothered where it landed. Instead, you took his hard cock in your hand, not wasting a second before you sucked the tip in your mouth, lapping at the small beads of precome that were already leaking.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathed out, his hips bucking further into your mouth but your other hand kept his body planted on the mattress. 

He was fucking helpess. 

He was fucking helpess and he didn’t give two shits about anything other than you. 

There was a vague voice in the back of his head reminding him that it was early, that they had neighbours, that those neighbours were colleagues of his. But it was a passing thought at best for Oscar as he squirmed and wiggled and writhed beneath your touch. It was a problem for future Oscar to deal with. 

And it wasn’t often Oscar was vocal, not like this. But he was sleepy and caught off-guard and, fuck, your mouth just felt like heaven wrapped around his cock. He couldn’t help himself with the whimpers and moans he let out, your name like a mantra as it left his lips on a broken loop. 

Because Oscar Piastri was a weak man when it came to you. 

And when he lifted his head off the pillow to finally look down at you, he about lost whatever semblance of control he had left.

Your hands were placed on his thighs, your nails digging into his skin but the pain was biting and welcomed. Your cheeks were hallowed around his dick, a mix of come and drool leaking from the edges but it just made his stomach twist with a deep desire that he knew would haunt his fantasies for months to come. Your lips were red and swollen, your eyes were glossy and hooded and, fucking hell, the second he met your gaze, it was over for him. 

His hands were gripping the sheets of the duvet beneath him as he came, the pleasure white and hot and overwhelming in every sense of the word. He felt it all over like a hot flush, dancing along his nerve endings and racing down his spine as his body bucked upwards to be closer to you, your mouth, your everything. He was distantly aware of the little whiny noises he made as he came, the ones that were half muffled as he buried his face into his pillow as his orgasm washed over him whilst you lapped at his sensitive cock. 

He couldn’t really find it in himself to be embarrassed when he finally turned back to look at you, seeing you slowly lick your fingers clean from the cum that had leaked out your mouth with a huge grin on your face.

“You’re a menace,” was all he managed to breathe out, throwing his arm over his face to try and recover from mind blowing orgasm and the sight of you shamelessly tasting him. 

“Happy birthday,” you replied cheerfully, crawling back up the bed until you could press a chaste kiss on his cheek before nuzzling yourself against him. “Good start to twenty-three?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I think you might’ve killed me.”

“At least you died young, pretty and satisfied,” you joked, feeling his chest rumble beneath you and it made your stomach twist with something quite like delight. 

“And in love,” he added, his words a little slurred and his cheeks burning a little at his own cheesiness. But it still made you grin.

“I love you too, Osc,” you murmured back.

“I was talking about those sushi rolls we had last night, but yeah I love you too,” he murmured, letting out a short pained noise when you pinched his side. “Ow! What happened to birthday boy privileges?”

“Those ended with the blowjob,” you retorted. “You’re back to normal Oscar now.”

“Hm, that seems a little unfair,” Oscar commented as he wound his arms around your body, hugging you close to his chest like the two of you could melt into one person. 

“Tragic life of being twenty-three,” you teased.

Oscar smiled. “Thank you, seriously.” 

You laughed, lifting your head to look at him. “Did you just thank me for a blowjob?”

The sleepy smile returned. “Yeah, pretty sure I just did.”

“Never beating the polite cat allegations,” you said, lighthearted and sweet and joking as you leaned down to kiss him. “Never change, birthday boy.”

“Never in a million years, baby.” 

.

[moonstruckme]

babe you’ve got me obsessed with doctor remus!

can i request a drabble where reader gets into like a car accident and has been taken into a&e with like mid/severe injuries and remus has been assigned to treat her?

if not then that’s fine! love your work bae 🎀

Hi gorgeous! Thank you for requesting (I'm obsessed with him too) :)

cw: hospital

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 716 words

The nurse leaves, and you think you might finally get more than five seconds to yourself but then the curtain pulls back again, a tall doctor taking her place. You’ve been able to feel your heartbeat pulsing through every inch of you since you’d stumbled out of your smoking car, and this new man doesn’t help matters. 

He’s lovely. With a face smattered with warm freckles and silvery scars and a mop of brown hair that looks like it’s never once been brushed, this is the kind of person who would fluster you on a normal day. Now, you don’t even know the word to describe the effect he has on you. 

He has to ask his question a second time before you hear it. 

“Have you had allergic reactions to any medications?” 

You blink. It still feels like reality is moving at twice its usual speed. You don’t know if it’s just you shaking, but it feels like the whole room. “Uh, no. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright.” The doctor’s voice is businesslike but kind, with a Welsh lilt. He flips a page on his clipboard. “Anything we weren’t able to address in the ambulance? Any new aches and pains?” 

“I—I don’t think so.” 

He lowers the clipboard slightly, looking at you. His eyes are a lightish brown color, like honey left too long in the sun. “Has anyone talked you through grounding exercises?” 

You feel your brow wrinkle. “What?” 

He almost smiles. “I’ll take that for a no.” He sets down his clipboard on the edge of your bed, pulling up a rolling chair and sitting down in front of you. “I’m going to have you breathe with me for a minute, alright, sweetheart?” 

It’s not in your nature to contradict professionals, but you feel your head shaking as if from somewhere outside of yourself. “Why?” you ask. “Aren’t there more important things?” 

“There are still things left to do,” he allows, seeming unaffected by your questioning, “but you’re stable. It’s nothing that can’t wait for a few minutes, and it’s important that you’re calm so you can think properly.” He takes your hands in his, ignoring the odd padding of the splint around your broken wrist and holding your fingertips instead. “All I need from you is for you to copy my breathing. Can you do that for me?” 

You nod. As he starts to talk you through it, your eyes begin to sting, an effect of his gentle tone or the respite your body has been craving or both. Your doctor’s expression doesn’t change when he sees the silver lining your eyes, but he gives your fingertips a light squeeze. 

“Okay, in for eight this time,” he says in that lulling voice. “Good job, just keep at it.” 

You manage to breathe in for long enough to satisfy him, and after the exhale he drops your hands. 

“Well done,” he murmurs, mindful of the small cuts on your face as he thumbs away your tears. “Are you feeling a bit better?” 

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. The word comes out like a sigh, and his lip curves softly at the plain relief in the sound. 

“Happy to hear it. You were right earlier, there’s still plenty left to do,” he says, expression sombering somewhat as he looks at you intently, “but if you ever need a break, you tell me or someone else, okay? I don’t want you suffering in silence.” 

“Okay.” You wet your lips, feeling much more solid than you had a few minutes before. The world has slowed to its regular speed. “Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.” 

He smiles, which is altogether too charming for a place like this. It makes the long scar going across his cheek crinkle slightly and you could swear his eyes lighten a shade. “Well, see, that’s how I know you weren’t really with me when you came in, because we’ve already been introduced.” His expression lets you know he hasn’t taken any offense, but your face still heats at your impoliteness. “It’s Doctor Lupin, but you can call me Remus.” 

Something in you rings at this new knowledge, like a tuning fork has been struck. Remus, your consciousness echoes quietly. 

His smile softens. “We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other today.”

[spiralsdrop]

This is a hypnosis story I've always loved. If anyone knows who the author is I would love to give them the credit they deserve for this.

“My friends and I were at a bar across town. It was dark, a little loud, underground, with dim red lights and drinks that cost too much. But there were lots of plush little booths and we managed to snag ourselves a corner, so we sat and got deep into drinking and chatting.

After an hour or so, there was a big commotion going on in one corner with people falling around laughing. Before we saw what was going on, everyone involved had stumbled away hooting and giggling. But my friend Rachel leads me over and there’s this young guy kind of holding court.

“What’s going on?” Rachel asks, over the music.

“Oh, I’m hypnotising people,” he says, casually, like people do that all the time.

“For real? You’re a hypnotist?”

“Yes I am,” he says.

Rachel thinks this is hysterical. I think it sounds ridiculous.

“We should dooooooo this!” she says, waving over the two other friends we’re out with.

“Should we?”

“We should! YOU should.”

“I don’t think so,” I say, but she’s already tugging on this guy’s arm… and pushing me towards him.

“Hypnotise Emma!”

“Yeah?”

“She REALLY wants to!”

He looks at me.

“Do you want to?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I’m un-hypnotisable.”

“Well,” he says. “Wanna find out?”

“You can try,” I say. I’m smirking a little bit. Silly me.

“Well, OK then. Here, take a seat.”

Like I said, I thought it was ridiculous.

There are two small wooden chairs facing each other and I sit in one. I smooth down the short, tight little dress I’m wearing. He – neat grey t-shirt, jeans, a tattoo of swirling black lines, like a soundwave, on one arm, a mischievous sparkle in his deep brown eyes, like someone who’s just had a sinfully good idea – sits on the other one, pulls it closer so our knees are almost touching. I’m a little nervous… but determined not to let it show.

“OK,” he says. He takes my arms and places them on the arm of my chair, palms up. He holds my hands with his and gives them a reassuring squeeze.

“You OK?”

“I’m fine.”

“This is going to be fun, OK?”

“Well, if you say so.”

Three of my friends are now gathered watching us. I hear Rachel say “I bet she thinks she’s a chicken five minutes from now.”

He lets go of my hands and wraps his gently around my wrists, his thumb on each, like he’s taking my pulse. He starts talking to me low and urgently, looking into my eyes warmly.

“So what’s your name?”

“Emma.”

“Where are we?”

“A bar.”

“What colour are the lights here?”

“Red.”

“Only red?”

“Some white.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Emma.”

”OK, Emma. We’re good.”

His thumbs are tracing circles on my skin.

His questions became… rhetorical. Think of my feet on the floor. Were they heavy? Did it feel good to just rest them there? Doesn’t it feel warm? Isn’t the chair comfortable?

It did feel comfortable. It felt like the second when an elevator stops descending and you’re that little bit heavier. I felt warm like sinking into a fresh bath. He put his hand on my bare shoulder. It felt solid and good.

Didn’t I feel calm? Isn’t it nice? Try closing my eyes. Keep listening to his voice. Even raised over the music is voice, is like a heavy blanket on a lazy Sunday. His hand slides to rest under my hair, on the back of my neck. Weren’t my wrists relaxed? Like they could rest on the arms of the chair forever. His other hand taps out a rhythm on my knee. Calm like warm sunshine on my skin. The sounds around me drift off into a dull hubbub. This was more relaxing than I th…

…I open my eyes and time has jumped just a little. Maybe it’s a few seconds later – or a few minutes? Which was weird. But it can’t have been long. My friends were all still there. And I still felt good. Calm. Nice. The rest of the world feels a little muffled, like the air is thicker.

“All awake, Emma?”

I nod.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel… fine.”

“That’s good.”

He rested his fingertips on my wrists and… oh.

“How does that feel?”

For some reason, it felt SO good. It was like one of those feelings that ran all through your body, like the feeling I get when my neck is being kissed, or my nipples are teased, or having ‘good girl’ growled quietly in my ear.

“It feels good,” I murmured. I was still sort of sleepy.

His fingertips started running slowly up and down my wrists, from my up-turned palms to the crook of my elbow. It was like the sexiest teasing I’d ever felt. Tingles rushed up to my shoulders and through my chest. I could feel my nipples getting hard under my dress.

“Do you like the way it feels?”

I nodded. The tingling was spreading through my tummy and between my legs. I was calm and floaty and burningly turned on all at once. He pulled his hands away. I bit my lip in frustration.

“More?”

“Yeah.”

He picked up his chair and moved it. I felt him sit down behind me. He leaned in close and whispered “Close your eyes…” into my ear. I did what I was told.

The moment his hands touched my back I gasped like lightning ran down my spine to my crotch. Every tiny hair on my neck stood up in reaction to his touch.

“Fuck.”

Each stroke of my shoulder blades felt like being stroked… everywhere, all at once. My clit was getting harder and more sensitive with each rub. My underwear felt hot and wet. I could barely control my breathing.

His hands slid over my shoulders and teasingly over my upper arms. It was like ecstasy. Just the fabric of my underwear against my clit was delicious. I slid my ass against the wooden chair instinctively trying to find some friction or relief. As he blew gently on the back of my neck I leaned back and spread my legs in the confused hope of being touched. I fucking ached with pleasure.

“It’s such a strong feeling,” he murmured in my ear, “when you think about it.”

He pulled his hands away once again. My heart was thudding in my chest, my nipples were hard through the fabric of my dress which had ridden up from my accidental grinding against the seat. Even with my eyes closed, I looked like a hot mess but I was so turned on I was beyond caring. I was just glad the club was so dark.

He puts brought his chair around to my side and just in front, so it was perpendicular to me. He sits in, close.

“How are you feeling?”

I open my eyes. I’m dimly aware of the giggling of my friends, and the gaze of some other onlookers over me. I feel a wave of heat as my face reddens.

“Don’t worry about them,” he says. “Look at me.”

“This is crazy,” I mouthed.

”I told you it would be fun.”

I’m speechless.

“Keep going?”

I was nodding before I even thought about it.

He scoots in front of me a little more. “Put your leg on my lap, Emma.” I lift my bare leg and place it tentatively across his knees.

His hand rests on my knee and a jolt of pleasure hit me. It snakes up my thigh to my wet cunt and fizzles deep me, my hips twitching. To my embarrassment I let out a moan of pure pleasure.

His fingertips are stroking my skin in soft, little circles. My thighs are starting to shake. Laughter among the crowd sends me blushing. He shakes his head in their direction and then looks at me.

“Emma, look at me.”

His twinkling eyes lock mine.

“You’ve been doing really well. Don’t worry about them. Listen to my voice.”

I nod in breathless agreement. His fingertips start drumming slowly on top of my thigh, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two three..

It feels like a fluttering feeling inside me and I scrunch my eyes closed in delight. I squirm in my seat, squeezing my thighs together tightly just for a hint of pressure on my clit.

“Emma, look at me.”

“You’ve been doing really well. I know it feels intense. It feels so strong…”

I’m trembling with each quickening tap. One-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three…

“It’s getting stronger and stronger, Emma. Like you can’t hold back.”

The drumming moves imperceptibly up my thigh, to the edge of my dress and it feels 100 times stronger. I’m arching my back. My hands grip the arm of the chair like they’re my bedsheets when I’m touching myself. I’m so close…

“Emma, listen to me.”

“Oh my god.”

“Emma, listen.”

“I’m… please… I…”

“Let go.”

With those two words the orgasm hits me like an explosion, my thighs clamping together, the contractions in my cunt are so strong I bend double in my chair.

“Let go.”

It feels like I’m being fucked hard and deep while I cum, my g-spot is spasming with pleasure. I cry out helplessly.

“Let go.”

His hand gripping my thigh sends another orgasm shivering through my clit and then bursting inside of me. I feel a hot flood of wetness soak through my panties as I involuntarily squirt a little.

“Let go.”

I slump back in the chair as my hips jolt into the air. I can hear my friends shrieking with laughter as they watch me orgasm uncontrollably. I try to hold back but I can’t stop cumming. Each squeeze of my thigh sends another wave of powerful juddering contractions through my pussy, makes me moan, twitch, gush, gasp, grind, shake, cum.

I’ve never cum for so long.

“OK, you. Come here.”

He takes my leg off his lap and comes in close to me. He wraps his hand on my neck and pulls me toward him, my forehead resting on my shoulder, exhausted and trembling. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “Listen to my voice…”

I sink back into a calm darkness.

A few moments later I wake up, sheepish and embarrassed… but even so, I can’t stop grinning. He strokes my wrist one last time – no unbearable pleasure, this time – and smiles. I tentatively stand up, and my legs are like jelly. Rebecca grabs me incredulously and says “OH. MY. GOD.”

“I. KNOW.”

I tell her I have to excuse myself to use the bathroom and shakily stumble in that direction. It’s busy with girls streaming in and out, but in the mirror, I see my face and chest are flushed pink. And my hair’s a mess.

I shut myself in the cool dark cubicle and slide off my panties, down my ankles and over my shoes and step out of them. They’re so drenched from my cum I throw them in the trash can. I instinctively reach between my legs and fuck, I’m still so wet and sensitive. I lean back against the cubicle door and let my fingertips find my slick, hard, throbbing clit. It feel so good to finally feel the touch my body had been craving.

Around me were the sounds of doors opening and closing, girls talking, water running, the throbbing music from next door and the hand-dryer blowing.

I was so hungry to feel full inside and I greedily pushed two fingers deep inside, sliding in deliciously easily. My knees buckled with satisfaction as I slowly, quietly fucked myself. Each time the hand dryer switched on, I pumped my fingers in and out hard and fast, the noise of the motor covering the sounds of my wetness, until it stopped and I had to wait for more agonising seconds.

When I couldn’t take it any more, with one last blast of the hand dryer, I frantically rubbed my clit, my other hand grabbing my tit, and then those commanding words “Let go… let go… let go…” suddenly reverberating in my head, until, my hand clamped over my mouth, I came for the second time that night, my legs buckling in shock, sliding down the cubicle door until I was sat on my heels, waves of pleasure still shuddering through my thighs.

I sat on the toilet for a few minutes and straightened myself out, until the red flush of orgasm had faded from my chest. Then I went back out to join my friends… embarrassed, sans underwear but oh-so-satisfied.

And when I’m alone, the words ‘let go…’ can still push me over the edge sometimes :)”

I would love to give proper credit to this author. If any of you know who wrote this please let me know so I can tag them and give them the credit they deserve.

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part four ]

[ part one & part two & part three ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1531

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

it took you about a half hour to get ready.

okay, maybe you spent a solid five minutes screaming into a pillow, but that’s besides the point.

descending the staircase of the inn, you emerged in the lobby, dressed up and dreamy. stan pines has spent years perfecting his poker face, but when he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping.

he was so glad that he gambled on a ‘yes.’

“sweet moses.” he breathed, rubbing his face with one hand before taking another good, long look at you.

“how do i look?” you carefully pushed a stray hair back into place, glancing expectantly at your flabbergasted date.

“like you fell from heaven.” a smug grin grew on his face. he was smitten. “i’d offer you my arm, but you look too perfect to touch.”

his charm was working wonders on you. you chuckled softly, rosy cheeks hinting at the feelings that raged within. “i’m far from perfect, you know.”

he held out his hand to you, his voice low. “not in my eyes, doll. i call you angel for a reason.”

you took his hand, and he led you out to where his car was parked. he made a point of opening the passenger side door for you, shutting it after you were situated and coming around to the driver’s side.

you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke that stubbornly clung onto the car, but he had totally cleaned up the interior, having crammed all his things into the trunk and scrubbed away troublesome stains. there was even a small pine tree air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

“i hope y’like the place i picked. it ain’t much, but i figured it’d be nice.” starting the engine, he snaked his arm around the back of your headrest, looking over his shoulder as he reversed out of the parking lot and made his way out onto the road. you could feel yourself practically buzzing with excitement and curiosity, smiling and folding your hands in your lap.

it was about a five-minute car ride, and neon lights illuminating the bustling cityscape made for a nice view. you found yourself pulling into the parking lot of one of the nicest restaurants in town. wait a second …

your brows rose. “stan, this is—”

you were cut off as he shushed you, waving his hand dismissively. “don’t even think about it. don’t worry about it. just let me do this for ya, alright?”

“but—”

his hand gently pushed your mouth shut from underneath your chin, tilting your head towards him. “it’s my turn t’ be the nice one. ya got it?”

all you could do was silently nod your head. you wanted to question how much this was costing him, but it was obvious that he didn’t want you to know that.

a moment later, you walked into the restaurant, and a waiter led you to your table. sitting down across from stan, you looked around the place, fascinated.

“you know, i’ve always wanted to check this place out, but i’ve just never had a reason to.” you smiled, returning your focus to him. “this is exciting!”

“oh yeah? huh, musta been a lucky guess.” he sighed, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at you.

the waiter came around, and you placed your orders. stanley could barely take his eyes off you the whole time, and they stayed just as glued in place after the waiter left.

“so, i’m gonna cut to the chase …” he paused, fidgeting with a fork on the table, never breaking eye contact.

“... i wanna know everything about you.”

you felt your face heat up. he was staring at you with a lot more intent than he had the last time you’d gone out to eat together.

“you do? … everything?”

“you heard me.” his tone was soft, but serious. “whatever you’re willing t' share, i’ll gratefully take.”

your heart beat louder in your chest. this man genuinely wanted to get closer to you.

“well … my mom is a schoolteacher, and my dad works for the bank.” you stroked your chin thoughtfully. “i’ve always been told i’m good at hosting people. i think that’s sort of what inspired me to open an inn in the first place.”

you continued to infodump about your life, your passions, and whatever else came to mind. stanley was loving every single second of it. he’d occasionally pipe in with a comment on something you’d said, but for the most part, he just gazed dreamily, leaning his head against one hand.

the conversation kept on going throughout the meal, and the two of you took turns talking while the other took a few bites of food. you hadn’t spent quality time with someone like this in so long—you’ve only been worried about minding the inn for the past few years—and you found that you were totally captivated by him.

you wanted to stay like this forever.

after swallowing a mouthful of food, you met his warm brown eyes with your own. “hey, stan?”

“hmm?”

“how long are you staying for?”

he paused, setting down his utensil and straightening in his seat.

“i mean … i wanna keep doing this with you.” your voice was quieter. “getting to know each other, just … talking. but … i know your stay with me is probably temporary …”

his bit his lower lip for a moment, looking down. the bill came, and he scribbled a signature, handing the waiter a few folded bills along with the receipt.

“let’s head out, yeah?”

“okay …”

the car ride back to the inn was silent, save for the ambience of surrounding traffic and the low hum of the radio. there was a certain tension hanging in the air.

pulling into the parking lot, stan put the car in park, taking the key out.

“look.”

he shifted in his seat, turning his body towards you. nervously, he reached one hand out, placing it on your arm and capturing your attention.

“i’ve been walking a tightrope for what feels like forever. and … i don’t know if i’ll get the privilege of keeping you in my life.”

your heart skipped a beat.

he took a deep breath. “i know damn well i don’t deserve you. hell, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. when i’m with you, i feel like i can be appreciated by somebody …” he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“... nobody has ever made me feel that way before.”

tears welled up quietly. he clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his composure, but ultimately failing.

“i … i had no … idea how much i needed that. how much i needed you.”

a single tear rolled down his cheek, succeeded by another … and another. he was choking the words out.

“i … know we haven’t known each other that long, but … do you … feel it, too?”

there was desperation in his voice, in his eyes.

it was as if he were asking for a miracle.

tears were already clouding your vision. turning in your seat, you gently wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, which he quickly returned.

“i feel it too, stanley.” you murmured, biting back a voice crack as you felt the tears falling. you just squint your eyes shut. he held onto you even tighter, as if he was afraid that you would disappear.

“hah … so i’m not crazy …” he laughed weakly, sniffling and pulling his head back to look at you. his thumbs gently wiped the tears from your face. his touch was so delicate … almost reverent. “i knew there was something between us.”

you sighed quietly as he held your face, smiling upon hearing his laugh.

your next words escaped your mouth before you could process it.

“i love you.”

stanley’s eyes went wide.

“you … what?”

“i … i lov—”

you didn’t get the chance to repeat yourself, as he had leaned in and pressed his lips against your own.

stunned at first, you gradually returned the kiss, letting your eyelids shut on their own. it was sweet and sincere, as if it held the meaning of a thousand words.

after a moment, he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed.

“i love you, too.”

he shifted closer to you, moving his head to rest on your shoulder as he pulled you into another hug.

“please … no matter what happens, please promise me you won’t ever forget about me.”

“oh, stan … don’t say that. i couldn’t forget you, even if i tried.”

his strong arms tightened around you even further. you could feel his heartbeat through the rise and fall of his chest, and it lulled you into a trance.

“... my love. mine.”

he kept mumbling vaguely into your shoulder, refusing to let go of you. you smiled to yourself, bringing your hand up to his ponytail and undoing the hairtie so that his mullet fell loose.

and for the next half hour, you ran your fingers through his hair while he clung to you like a magnet.

end

[ part five ]

author's note:

i said goodbye to my sanity in the middle of writing this chapter

also THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ?!?!? the first three parts collectively have over 750 notes DANGGG

part five is happening. >:) lmk if you want in on the taglist

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002 @samanthastarss @bumblingbriars @arya-eats-chips @bihexualandferal @hello-i-like-owls @blurryface505 @ryethebrokengae @skeet-2 @thisisprettymuchafanaccount @loleeness @mothie-jpg @ryoiii @ghostieballs @dinsfire24 @put-a-cork-in-it-nork

[billthedrake]

ALL STAR BREAK

The father and son locked their gaze, each man's dusky blue eyes communicating the pent up lust.

"Been too long, kiddo," Michael said.

The Jock ran his hands up his father's arms. His father might not have had quite the conditioned build the pro ball player had, but the 54 year old had a lot of years and the natural solidity of a middle aged man. The Jock couldn't get enough.

"Damn, Daddy..." the Jock said. He stopped calling his father Daddy around the age of 7. Until it became a bedroom name that stuck. It feels like five months.

"Just been one," Michael reminded him. They had to be careful. That was nothing new, but the pressures of the major league just added to that caution. "Well, one and a half."

"I missed you, Dad," the Jock hissed. "I love you."

That made the man's eyes grow wild. His dick throbbed deep inside his son. They hadn't even been fucking the last few minutes. Michael had been more accurately just buried inside the Jock. Implanted. Locked in place. "Love you too kiddo."

He pulled back and with a hard shove, he pile drove into the Jock. His hips locked in the bottomed out position as the Jock took it, and felt those dancing insides clench and relax, clench and relax. Just like Daddy had taught him.

Then again. A solid ten seconds between thrusts, but crazy powerful shoves. Those baseball playing fingers clenched Michael's biceps tighter. The Jock's legs wrapped around his father's waist like so many times before.

"Yes, Daddy. Fuck!"

Michael shoved in once more, his lips curling up into a big nasty grin. He liked this too much but best was seeing how it drove the Jock wild.

"Man enough to take it?" he growled.

"Yes Sir!" the Jock replied. Loudly. They had a hotel room. They could fuck with abandon. Like men. "Dick me down, Sir!"

The next thrusts were powerful but more steady in their cadence. "You know I'm proud of you no matter what, son, right?" Michael's voice was softer, huskier, hornier.

The Jock gulped. "Yes, Sir..."

"No matter how well you played...."

"Fuck Daddy," the 24 year old stud hissed. He'd restrained from touching himself but his cock was quivering. He wanted to get off bad. "I need to cum, Daddy..."

Another lusty grin filled his father's face. "I know baby boy. But just a little longer. Unless you rented this room by the hour..."

The Jock smiled at the joke. "No, sir. We got it for the night, Sir."

Another fuck thrust caught the Jock by surprise. Almost took the wind out of him, but he willed his body to relax and accept it.

Then another, until Michael slowed his roll. The dad leaned down to claim a soft kiss. The bristle of his five o clock shadow was almost enough to send the Jock into orgasm. Almost.

But when Michael pulled back he looked down at his son for a quick second then scooted back, sliding his slickened dad meat out of the pro catcher's asshole.

"You're leaking, kiddo," Michael said.

The Jock smiled and lay back, spreading his legs to show off his dripping bone. "You do that to me, Daddy."

"I probably won't need lube then will I?"

"You mean...?"

Michael nodded. Already he was straddling the Jock's waist. "You know who you are, Son..."

"Your boy, Sir?" The Jock's voice quivered in horniness.

The father leaned back against that 24-year old boner. Looking down on the Jock he felt surprisingly proud of his own body. The kid really went wild for it. He gritted his teeth and sank back to penetrate himself with that slick cock head.

"You're fucking MVP that's what." Just as Michael spoke, that jock prick pressed into his guts. It had been a few months and the dad was tight.

"My fucking god," the Jock growled. "Sit on my dick Daddy."

Michael did, working his ass back on to his son's spike. "MVP... and my boy's gonna be an All Star in a year or two."

"God yes," the Jock hissed. He was now gripping his father's waist, fucking up into the man who made him.

"Give me that MVP cock Son... make Daddy proud."

"Please don't make me hold back, Daddy." The Jock had been teased and edged long enough.

Michael didn't answer him. All he had to do is rock his hips back, then up and down, as the Jock fucked quicker into him.

"Mother fuck!" the Jock cried, his face getting beet red and those 185 pounds of lean muscle tense as he shot hard and heavy into his dad's guts. Then, as he rode out the big O, he refocused on his hunky, handsome father above him. No longer riding him. Just looking down on him with love and paternal affection.

"I don't know why that was hotter," Michael said. "But MVP sex is pretty damn hot." He finally hoisted himself off.

The Jock laughed. "Just wait till I make the All Stars. For real."

The two took a few minutes to make out and let the Jock recover. Until the player felt his dad's need.

"How long we got, Sir?" the Jock's voice was husky.

Michael replied. "Check out is 11."

The Jock nodded. "So bout twelve hours left." He gave his dad another kiss then turned back over, flying stomach down on the hotel bed. He loved the feeling of the smooth cool sheets. But mostly he loved the hot body and weight of his dad mounting him. Kissing along his neck. Reminding him of the time he lost his cherry. Psychically going back in his mind to the night Daddy made him. The Jock wish he could have somehow witnessed that magic moment. For now he had this.

The dad cock bore back into him. Fitting perfectly. Like a ball in the Jock's baseball glove.

"Unggh... unnnh.... unngh..." Michael's voice wasn't loud but the sex grunts suggested he wasn't going to hold back now.

The Jock took it. He held the bedsheets and let Daddy fuck roughly from behind. The Jock loved their romance, but he loved this too.

"Son...." Michael hissed. This catcher ass seemed to grip his bone with every in stroke.

"Do it, Daddy. Cum in me."

Michael did. The second he orgasmed, his body went stiff and felt heavier to the Jock.

"Am I too heavy, Son?" the man asked. He enjoyed being like this. Feeling his prick throb inside the Jock.

"No, Daddy."

[ronearoundblindly]

Midnight Kiss

Steve Rogers x reader

Just a little ditty in honor of the upcoming holiday. Warnings for suggestive language and bad puns. It's just cute, awkward, and chivalrous...until it isn't. If you couldn't deduce it from the title: they kiss lol. WC 1.5k+

He's happy to see the team having fun, but this isn't exactly Steve's 'scene.' Granted, his 'scene' flew the coop long ago, when his generation aged out of large, raucous celebrations, or rather, Steve never had any true social scene because he never really lived .

He's still trying, he swears; it's just...

really. damn. loud.

The lights are somehow too dim and too bright all at once. Everyone is happy and blitzed and dressed to the nines and leaning on the closest stable object. Any minute now, he'll bow out and call it a--

There's an ear-piercing cackle from a woman in a '2024' gold-streamered headband not two yards to his right, and she tips backwards, shoving an innocent passerby straight into his solid side.

"Sorry," you squeak, rolling your eyes because the word wasn't loud enough to shame the drunk woman beside you, but you're facing him, too, unable to see she's about to make it worse.

The woman snorts and laughs harder, toppling over because her party of friends have the reaction time of sloths, their hands full of dainty champagne flutes and mini-snacks.

Steve instinctively pulls you out of the way, his broad, strong arm wrapping your waist and pinning you to him.

"Oof," you grunt in alarm, the woman's drink spilling over your shoulder.

Hors d'oeuvres, Steve thinks sullenly, that's what people call them these days.

The woman doesn't apologize, and neither do her friends.

He counts a full five seconds before anyone in the small group even raises a hand to help the woman still giggling on the floor. Mostly, Steve is now concerned with the glass shards near your feet.

He's all for having fun, he's all for letting off a little steam, but he is not a fan of sloppiness. That's not a generational trait; that's simple courtesy.

"Ok, 'nough of this," he mutters, an itchy irritation scurrying up his body while he tries not to take over care of the woman. Instead, he checks your legs with a glance, sees the open toes of your strappy sandals, and hoists you into his arms.

He walks away from the bar, sound of crunching fading with each step, and finds a tiny bench--the only spot not occupied--where he can set you down.

Steve can't hear your shock or protest because his blood races past his ears. That was the last straw. He's annoyed now.

"Stay there," he commands, putting up a finger that gets shockingly close to touching your lips since you leaned in to speak. "I'm getting some napkins."

The bartender is oblivious, and why should he not be? The man is one of two serving over a hundred guests, give or take, for hours and hours. Steve doesn't bother getting his attention. He stretches a long arm over the bar top and grabs a stack of cocktail napkins.

It might as well be toilet paper.

He dabs and dabs at the sleeve of your dress, but the napkins dissolve and turn to damp pills. In his day, those results would make excellent spitballs to pass the time in class. They aren't so trendy on your black velvet.

"I thought this would work." He doesn't know what else to do but keep dabbing, so he anxiously continues, not noticing the precarious proximity to your chest until you put a hand on his.

You have kind eyes, he thinks, even though he can't fully make out their color in the mood lighting.

"Please, don't--" finally one of the woman's group yells over a quick sorry "--don't bother with that," you finish. "It's just a dress. You can go back to your people, Captain."

He scrunches his brow. He sometimes wants to introduce himself; he wouldn't always use his rank, but he rarely gets that luxury. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Was heading out anyway. I'll just sit a sec and then leave."

Sounds like the highlight of my night--leaving.

Instead, Steve stands to his full height and scans the busy room for any of his team. He shrugs to himself since, who's he kidding, no one will miss him if he disappears early. He's put in the appearance. He's made enough small drunk talk. Yikes, does he wish alcohol still affected him...

"I'll walk you out," he offers, careful to modulating his volume when one song abruptly ends and another starts lower.

At first, you don't take his hand, and your first two steps seem sturdy.

Then your weight crumples after a deep hiss.

Steve has you back up and carried to the bathroom in a flash. It's lit so he can actually see and muffled so he can actually hear, thank goodness.

Glass did sneak into your shoe, and it easily poked through the ball of your foot. He's so quick to find it that not one whole drop of blood has even eased out of the wound by the time he's pulling the shard out. His bare hands pinch the sizable chunk.

He's careful, slow, and gentle. He's also a touch proud that you make very little fuss, only squirming in discomfort while he works.

"All better," he says, dropping the glass into the trash bin. "We'll just wash it and...you alright?"

You're already pushing yourself off the counter top.

"You shouldn't put weight on it yet." Steve gingerly lifts your leg at the knee to keep the foot from touching the bare tile floor.

"Yeah, but--" you make a face "--you set me down in water."

Steve's eyes bug out. "I--oh gosh--so sorry, I--let me--" there are no paper towels, only an air dryer "--shit."

Defeated by modernity again, he sighs. "I just...I can get more napkins and maybe a first aid kit from--"

The crowd outside is starting to yell. They're counting, backwards, and there's no way anyone will understand what he's asking for in that chaos.

"Ten!"

Steve meets your eyes.

"Nine!"

He can see their full color now and that your dress isn't black. It's a very, very dark maroon velvet. Wetness is easily visible though, since your sleeve seems fully black at the shoulder.

"Eight!"

He points to the door. "Somebody I can get for you?"

You shake your head.

Not that he was fishing for your relationships status, but he's encouraged nonetheless.

"Seven!"

"Only me," you shrug, "braving the party for a thrill..."

"Same."

"Six!"

"How was the year?" he cracks with a smile.

You tilt your head. He's distracted by the cute gesture.

"Five!"

He stares.

"Four!"

"Not great," you admit.

Steve thinks while he stares.

"Three!"

Actually, no, that's a lie. He doesn't think; he just acts.

"Tw--"

He swoops in, big palms cradling each side of your face, soft lips pressed to yours for just an instant, but only because he wants more.

Unless tortured, Steve Rogers will never admit that he didn't plan for one instant where his tongue was not involved. He absolutely wants to taste you. He absolutely wants to own you, just for these few seconds. He absolutely wants to hear you moan in encouragement, the sound crystal clear in isolation from the party.

The roar of the crowd is soft static compared to that racing blood of his.

He pushes himself closer, his bent arms getting in his way, so Steve props up with a palm on the--oh wow, that is wet--counter. His thumb touches the soggy velvet covering your hip and thigh.

He'll buy you a whole new dress if only you lace your fingers in his hair, if only you take his bottom lip between your teeth, if only you whine just like that again.

By 'again,' he means in a few seconds, and maybe tomorrow, and, for good measure, whenever after that.

A loud thud on the door knocks him out of his lip-lock trance. It's not a single restroom, so he suspects another overly inebriated patron since no one comes through the door.

But now some sense is knocked into him, too.

He chews on his swollen lips for a moment, nervous to look up. He hopes you don't regret it, and he hopes you know that he does not, can not, and will never regret that kiss.

Your sated sigh breaks the tension after a beat. "Starting this year off right," you mutter, "at least for me..."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, glancing at the door before finally taking in your lounging form, "the gang is gonna love how I ended up in a ladies' bathroom at the stroke of midnight, necking a stranger."

You snort.

"Don't leave out the part where I was wet for you, head to toe, huh?"

Too bad the florescent lights are bright enough to show his raging red blush, but he clears his throat with a deep growl.

"They'll never believe me..."

Steve sweeps you up into his arms again.

"...unless I take you as proof...and to get a bandage, of course."

You snatch up your shoe and purse, but he won't let this Cinderella run off. You'll be right here against him all night.

"Well, go ahead and splash my other shoulder," you tease. "I can't be lop-sided."

Steve grins, already adding more and more things to list of what he'll do for you, to you, and with you. The list can include parties, too, if this is how wonderfully sweet and silly they can all be.

Happy New Year, indeed...

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp (My taglists are all jacked up again, so if you are missing from the list and/or want to be tagged, please let me know!)

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[seivsite]

UNDER THE INFLUENCE.

synopsis: your boyfriend, micha, failed to recognize you while under the influence, and he remained skeptical until you presented him with video evidence.

includes: michael kaiser x fem!reader. he calls you good girl once, drunk kaiser, soft and clingy micha, swear words, suggestive at the end — wc: 1355

You were peacefully going about your evening when a series of messages started flooding your phone—several from Kaiser and a dozen from Ness. With a sigh, you opened your phone and began reading the messages.

Without wasting any time, you hastily slipped on your trusty Crocs and dashed off to the location Ness had sent you, dressed only in a hoodie and flared pants. As you arrived, your eyes scanned the area, searching for your boyfriend amidst the chaos. His hair, a vibrant mix of white roots and blue tips, stood out like a sore thumb. Approaching Ness and Kaiser’s slumped figure, you locked eyes with your beloved, who greeted you with a bizarre statement, “I have the most beautiful and wonderful girlfriend! Go away!”

You glanced over at Ness, who merely shrugged his shoulders, conveying that Kaiser had been acting like this for a while. Brushing off Kaiser’s nonsensical remarks and futile attempts to escape, you took charge and dragged him towards your car. Ness gathered Kaiser’s belongings and neatly stowed them in the back while you ensured that Kaiser was securely buckled up, preventing any potential wobbling out the window or other absurdities.

You expressed gratitude to Ness and embarked on the journey back home. However, Kaiser couldn’t resist voicing his discontent, whining about how his beloved would be disappointed to find him with someone else, completely oblivious to the fact that you were, in fact, his girlfriend.

As you parked the car and approached Kaiser’s side, you cunningly placed your phone by the window, ready to capture his drunken antics for some entertaining mischief.

“Micha,” you began, but he quickly interrupted, his tone filled with protest. “Nooo, only my girlfriend can call me that!” he whimpered, clutching onto you for support since his ability to walk properly had been compromised.

“But I am your girlfriend,” you insisted, determined to break through his inebriated haze.

“No, you’re not!” he countered, clearly in a state of confusion and intoxicated from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed. Together, you both stumbled into your shared home, ensuring the phone captured every hilarious moment.

Suddenly, your eyes caught sight of the ring he had bought you for your anniversary. Holding it up, you presented it to him. Kaiser examined the ring, then looked back at you, realisation dawning upon him. Immediately, he enveloped you in a tight hug.

“Mein Schatz~ Where were you? I thought you had abandoned me, thinking I wasn’t loved anymore,” he confessed, a few tears welling up in his eyes.

“Gosh, Micha, I didn’t expect you to be such a clingy drunk,” you muttered playfully, as you stopped the recording on your phone. With care, you guided Kaiser towards the bedroom, allowing him to collapse onto the bed. Methodically, you removed his shoes, blazer, and shirt, despite his feeble attempts to convince you to join him and just sleep. Deep down, you knew he’d complain in the morning if he didn’t change. So, you handed him a pair of comfy sweatpants, encouraging him to switch into something more comfortable. He sluggishly complied, finally sitting down on the mattress.

With tenderness, you wiped clean his face and tidied up his soiled clothes. Fetching a warm glass of water and some hangover medicine, you offered it to Kaiser, who grumbled about not needing it for a solid five minutes. However, when you threatened to withhold kisses from him, he reluctantly surrendered and drank the medicine. Finally, he nestled under the covers, succumbing to a deep slumber.

Shaking your head in both affection and amusement, you tidied up any remaining mess before joining Kaiser in bed. As you turned off the lights, you immediately felt his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you close. Kaiser found solace against your chest, emitting soft snores as he slept soundly. Gently, you planted a kiss on his forehead and whispered, “Gute Nacht, Liebe.”

As you woke from your slumber, you noticed Kaiser still peacefully sleeping on your chest, his head nestled against your bosom. Feeling a wave of warmth and affection, you decided to grab your phone and post a tweet on twitter.

However, after pressing the post button, Kaiser swiftly snatched the phone from your hand, wearing an annoyed expression.

“Hey, give me back my phone,” you demanded, reaching out to retrieve it. But Kaiser held it out of your reach, a mischievous pout forming on his lips. With his adorable “I want kisses” cat eyes, he requested, “No, give me a kiss first.”

You let out a sigh, realising you wouldn’t get your phone back without complying. Relenting to his playful demands, you planted a small peck on his lips. However, it was clear that he wasn’t satisfied with such a brief display of affection. Before you knew it, he firmly grasped your neck and pulled you into a deeper, more passionate kiss.

Startled by your quick reaction, Kaiser found his mouth covered by your hand as you asked, “Okay, happy now?” Swiftly reclaiming your phone from his grip, you casually walked away, heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Kaiser, still flabbergasted, followed you, almost stumbling along the way but managing to regain his balance.

Desperate for answers, he shouted, “Can’t you at least tell me what happened last night?!” His confusion and frustration were evident in his voice. You busied yourself with the pans and ingredients, getting everything ready to make a delicious breakfast for the two of you.

With a composed demeanour, you began to recount the events of the previous night. “You got drunk, Ness called me because you kept calling out my name. I arrived, and you didn’t recognize me until I showed you my ring,” you explained, your voice filled with a mixture of concern and amusement. Kaiser couldn’t believe his ears, the idea of not recognizing his one and only, precious lover seemed unfathomable. Before he could protest or deny it, you teased him, saying, “If you want to be sure, check the recent video in my gallery~” You continued cutting up the tofu, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Eager to confirm your words, Kaiser swiftly grabbed your phone, effortlessly unlocking it using your anniversary date as the passcode. As he watched the video, he was rendered speechless, unable to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Lost in thought, he hadn’t realised that you had finished preparing breakfast.

“Breakfast’s ready,” you chimed, placing the food on the table. “Oh, and Micha, you might want to check your phone soon.” You hinted with a playful smile, your own appetite clearly satisfied as you began to enjoy the meal.

Kaiser’s phone suddenly dinged, signalling someone was messaging him. You saw how his eyes widened in shock before your phone got its own notifications.

Kaiser’s mischievous gaze met yours, his eyes brimming with a playful intent. With a teasing smile, you wagged your pointer finger from side to side, playfully denying him.

“Ah ah,” you chided, “If you want my attention, you’ll need to—”

But before you could finish your sentence, Kaiser disregarded your playful admonishment. With a swift motion, he took your hand and led you back to your shared bedroom. Pinning your hands gently beside your head, he leaned in closer, his voice filled with a hint of seductive playfulness.

“Well, didn’t you just say you wanted me to fuck you?” he whispered, his eyes glimmering with desire. Before you could respond, he claimed your lips in a passionate kiss, his hand sliding underneath your shirt. A shiver ran through your body as his cold fingers brushed against your waist, drawing you closer to him.

As your arms encircled his neck, you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating passion of the moment. His lips left yours, venturing down to your neck, leaving a trail of tender love bites in their wake. A soft sigh of pleasure escaped your lips, as you revelled in the sensations.

“A bit eager, aren’t we?” Kaiser playfully teased, a hint of mockery lacing his words. “Well, my darling, how about you be a good girl and take whatever I give you, yeah?”

NOTES. the german petnames mean love and darling, mein means my iirc. also he’s shirtless after he wakes up soo (｡- .•). i promised to post this yesterday but uhh i fell asleep woops sorry lol. anyway thanks for reading!

TAG LIST. @rintosei @yanqingisim

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! ‹3

[elly-grace]

The best day

Pairing Joe Burrow x reader

Thank you @funnyjb for proof reading

You and Joe stood in the Hotel bathroom getting ready for the NFL honors. Joe was in the running for NFL MVP. He was extremely excited to even be considered for it. The Bengals had a great run this season going 15-2, and they are playing in the superbowl on Sunday!

You knew eventually you'd have to wake your daughter up. But as for now you were enjoying alone time with your husband, even if he was blaring his Kid Cudi. You didn’t have anything against Kid Cudi’s music but it wasn’t what you’d choose. You were trying to listen to Taylor Swift while curling your hair, key word trying. You sighed, setting down the curling iron and turned to face Joe.

“Babe, can you turn your music down, please?”

“But, the music is so good!” He whined out in a joking manner.

“So is my Taylor Swift, but I’m not blaring it.”

He dramatically sighed and turned his music down.

“I have something to tell you.”

After you said that, you heard the bathroom door open. You see Brianna scuttle in the bathroom. You looked towards Joe giving him a small smile then mouthing ‘I’ll tell you later’.

Brianna was a mini you, she had your hair color, facial structure and if you asked Joe she also got your attitude. The only thing she got from Joe were her bright blue eyes.

“Mommy?”

You felt a pull at your dress and picked up the five year old.

“Yes my love what’s up?”

“You look so pretty!” She says while looking at you. She then turns to Joe, “and daddy, nice music dude.” She said sarcasm laced her voice. She definitely got the sarcasm from you, which was part of the reason Joe says she adapted your attitude. You tried to stop the laugh from coming, but you couldn’t. Joe gave you a look which was his way of saying, ‘come on be more mature’. But even he couldn’t stifle the laugh that left his throat.

“I’m going to go get her ready, please turn off the iron for me.”

You said then put Brianna down, she then ran back into the other room. As you were following her Joe grabbed your arm and pulled your back into his chest. Placing his lips on your ear.

“I do agree with Bri that you look incredibly pretty. It makes me think about making baby number two.”

He whispered into your ear, his voice sounded husky. You let out a soft moan at how he was making you feel and Joe definitely caught it. He turned you to look at him, a huge smirk plastered on his face. He knew what he was doing, he was trying to turn you on. He was seceding.

“Joe, that’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m already carrying baby number two.”

All the lust he was feeling moments prior was gone. Now he stood in front of you, his face lit up like a child’s face on Christmas. He hugged you tight then picked you up and spun you around. Once your feet we’re back on solid ground he gives you a long passionate kiss.

“When did you find out?”

“This morning, when I didn’t get my period two days ago I thought it was just going to be late. But when it didn’t come this morning I decided to just take a test. I was shocked to see that it was positive. I know we weren’t trying.”

“Oh my god baby I’m so happy!”

He gave you a peck although you could still feel the passion behind it. As you were going in for another quick peck there was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?”

Joe yells from the bathroom.

“Ja’marr.”

Joe sighed. Of course it would be his best friend ruining this moment. Joe felt like alone time with you was impossible.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

He yelled, although he knew as soon as Brianna heard Ja’marrs voice she’d be already unlocking the door. Brianna loved Ja’marr, he really was her bonus uncle. When you and Joe walked out of the bathroom you saw Ja’marr sitting on the couch. He was in a conversation with Bri, which quickly turned into him tickling her.

You looked between Joe and Ja’marr sensing they needed some bro time. You quickly jumped to action grabbing your five year olds hand.

“Hey Bri, let's give your dad and Uncle Ja’marr some guy time.”

“I want to be by uncle Marr though!”

Brianna started to throw a tantrum. Which all three of you went to shut down. But Ja’marr beat you and Joe to it.

“Hey bean, you can hang out with me later after we’re all done getting ready. But you have to get ready, you can’t show up to the NFL honors in your pajamas.”

You and Joe look at each other with pure happiness. You were so lucky that Ja’marr was in your lives. Not only was he Joe's best friend but he became one of your close friends, and he’s great with your daughter.

After hearing Ja’marrs words Brianna quickly jumped off the couch and ran to the bathroom with you to get ready.

Once you and Brianna were in the bathroom Ja’marr started talking with Joe.

“Joe your the favorite for MVP”

“I know but if I’m being honest, I don’t need the award. Today has already been amazing. I got to spend l mostly uninterrupted time with my wife, and you want to know the best part? I found out I’m going to be a dad again.”

“Oh my god, Y/n’s pregnant?”

The smile on Joe's face was large, almost like a cheshire cat grin.

“I can’t believe you were able to wait four years. I thought you guys would be pregnant right away, with the way you two are. But I am so happy for you two!”

“Thanks man! Also it was kinda hard to be active with a little kid running around 24/7.”

Ja’marr laughed.

“We're going to be offensive player of the year and MVP. I'm calling it right now Joe!”

With that he walked out of the room, and went to finish getting ready himself.

Joe walks into the bathroom where you and Brianna were finishing getting ready. He stares at you causing heat to rise to your cheeks and butterflies to erupt in your stomach. You may have been married for almost five years but everytime he stares at you the same thing happens.

“How are my beautiful girls doing?”

“Good! Mommys music is way better than yours daddy!”

This caused both you and Joe to laugh.

“Oh is that so? You like Taylor Swift more than Kid Cudi?”

Brianna nods her head and stares at Joe waiting for his response. He knew Brianna loved Taylor Swift, she knew every song.

“Okay, Y/N I think we need a son. I’m out numbered. It’s not fair.”

Joe spoke acting like a four year old, which in response you patted his back.

“You love being a girl dad, don’t even lie.”

He sighed, you smiled knowing you were right. Joe loved being a girl dad.

“Now don’t go revealing my secrets! You two look beautiful, are you guys completely ready?”

“Yeah almost, I just have to put my shoes on.”

Joe went and grabbed your shoes and told you to sit.

“Here let me”

He put your shoes on for you. You thank him with a kiss.

After the three of you were ready you went to Ja’marrs room and all got into the car that was sent for you. Joe and Ja’marr requested to listen to Kid Cudi, which did not shock you at all. Once you get to the event, you and Brianna walk inside to your seats and wait for Joe to finish walking the nfl honors carpet.

The night went on as the nfl honors were being announced then finally it was OPTY. Which Ja’marr won! Then it was MVP. This was the moment that had Joe nervous, he was up against Lamarr, Patrick Mahomes, and Jalen, which was some tough competition. As they announced it you could see Joe started to shake slightly, but then they said his name. Joe just won MVP! This was the best day of his life. He looked at you as he received the award.

His speech was short and to the point making sure he thanked everyone who made it possible for him to revive this award. Coach Taylor, Ja’marr and his other receivers, his O-line, and then most importantly You and Brianna.

[littlestarbigsky]

outsiders week - darry

@outsidersweek

today’s a hard and scary day for my american friends (i’m right there with you, trust me) but i planned on posting this today and i hope it can bring some joy where it is much needed. i hope you all are taking care of yourselves today and if you need a friend, my messages are open🩶

sooo my little brother (he’s almost 17 but be quiet) got hurt wrestling this week (he’s okay but dear god he scared me) so naturally i had to inflict darry with a football injury. this is when he’s in high school soo im imagining him at about 14 here :p

“follow my finger,” the trainer instructed, and darry blinked rapidly to clear the dots from his vision.

he couldn’t remember the last time someone had knocked him so hard. sure it was a rivalry matchup, and sure the kid had gotten a penalty for it, but darry was surprised he was still conscious. he didn’t really remember what exactly had happened or how long he had been laying on the field, just that it had taken both paul and their coach to get him up and off to continue the game.

paul was lingering behind the trainer, his brows furrowed, watching darry anxiously. darry vaguely seemed to remember jumping in front of paul. nobody messes with his quarterback.

he felt pretty stupid. go figure, paul and darry had been waiting for their chance to play all season and it was the first time their coach had let the freshman play, and he managed to get himself plowed in the first five minutes.

“darry!” he heard someone yell from behind him, but his neck was hurting a little too much to turn around. he thought it sounded like his dad, but he couldn’t be sure, there were so many voices and it was like his senses had been dialed to eleven. paul seemed to catch eyes with someone and he hurried over in the direction the voice had come from.

darry tried to watch where he was going but the trainer grabbed his face and forced his focus back onto his stupid human tests. it didn’t last too long, though. within a few seconds, his mama was shoving the trainer out of the way and grabbing at darry.

“are you okay? what happened? oh, baby, you scared us to death,” she pulled back and held his face in her hands.

darry almost opened his mouth to say something, but the words felt far away and strange in his mind. he blinked slowly up at her, trying to communicate to her telepathically that he was okay, that she didn’t need to worry. it felt like a lie, but she shouldn’t need to worry about him.

“oh sweetheart…” she hugged him to her. the pain in his head started to build and he squeezed his eyes shut, partially to block out the bright stadium lights, but also because he could feel tears brimming in his eyes.

when she let him go, she patted his shoulder and went over to where the trainer was already talking to his dad. it took about five seconds for something very solid to launch itself into his arms.

“be careful, pony!” darry turned his head to see soda anxiously chasing after their brother. it was only around then that darry realized that it was ponyboy that was hanging off of him, and he wrapped his own shaking arms around his brother. he could feel pony trembling against him.

he wanted to tell pony he was okay, he wanted to say that he didn’t need to worry, but he just couldn’t. words still felt mixed up and confusing, so he let go of his 8-year-old brother and pushed him back a bit. pony’s eyes were glassy and darry felt the ache in his head migrate to his heart as he realized how badly this had probably scared pony, who was already way more anxious than any kid his age had business being. he gently rested their foreheads together for a second before pressing a kiss to his hair.

“are you okay?” soda asked, sitting down next to darry on the bench and leaning up against his side. darry just threw an arm over soda’s shoulders and pulled pony into another hug.

it was a mark of how badly the hit had scared them that they were so close and clingy with him in such a public place. soda, now 10 years old, had slowly been growing out of needing hugs from his big brother as much as he used to, and pony, ever soda’s shadow, was beginning to pull back as well. but there they were, huddled up with their big brother on a football field.

after a few minutes, their parents came back over and their dad kneeled down in front of darry.

“well junior, we’re gonna have to go to the hospital. the trainer is pretty sure you’ve got a concussion,” he said sadly. ponyboy made a small squeak, and their dad grabbed one of his hands and smiled. “oh, but it’s gonna be alright, kiddo! darry’s brain just got rattled around a little bit. if he were smart like you, his brain would be bigger and it wouldn’t clunk around so darn much. but it’s all gonna be okay.”

darry knew their dad was just kidding around, and part of him knew that ponyboy was well aware that concussions didn’t work that way, but the anxiety in his chest seemed to lessen when ponyboy giggled.

their dad wrapped an arm around darry’s shoulder and helped him to his feet so they could head to the car. mama came back over and grabbed pony and soda’s hands to start walking with them to the bus stop to go home. pony looked sadly back at darry, dragging his feet as mama guided him along, and watched soda throw a few nervous glances back at him.

darry felt like he was going to collapse when they finally got home, and he was pretty sure that had nothing to do with his concussion. he practically fell into mama’s arms and gladly let her hold him close on the couch while his dad explained what had happened at the hospital. darry would most likely be out of football for the rest of the season, and he wasn’t allowed back at school for a few days.

“but it still could have been worse,” mama kissed his head gently as she smoothed his hair back. “i know this is lousy, but you’re gonna be alright, baby, it’s all gonna work out.”

darry just nodded. she was right, he knew it could have been much worse, but he was still having a hard time being grateful. he could still barely speak. he’d been able to get out a few words in the hospital, but he was still having some trouble stringing his thoughts together.

there was a creak from down the hall, and all three of them turned around to see ponyboy in his train pajamas and wrapped in a blanket standing in the doorway. his face lit up as he saw darry, running over and jumping into darry’s open arms.

“you’re okay!” pony cried, his voice muffled against darry’s jersey, which he was still wearing from the game.

darry held his baby brother as tight as he could, pressing a kiss to pony’s soft auburn hair. he could feel the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders easing.

“be gentle, pony,” their mother scolded, but there was no real malice in her voice. “darry’s had a long night, sweetheart, how about you head back to bed? soda will probably give you lots of snuggles and dad will come tuck you in.”

pony looked up at darry sadly and squeezed him tighter.

darry opened his mouth slowly, “can pony stay with me, mama?”

mama looked shocked for a moment, but seemed to fold under the pressure of both of her boys silently pleading with her to let them stay together, “…okay, pony, go get your blanket while darry gets changed.”

darry headed back to his room and slowly started to change his clothes, keeping his overhead light off in favor of his aching eyes and wincing while he stretched his sore shoulders out. he looked at the bed and almost shed a tear with how welcoming it seemed after the night he’d had.

there was a soft knock at the door and it opened a moment later. pony had a blanket in his hands and let out a huge yawn. darry couldn’t help but laugh at him a little bit.

“c’mon, kiddo, you look like you’re gonna fall over,” he smiled meekly, and pony hopped up onto the bed, plastering himself to darry’s side when he laid down.

“that was really scary.”

“what? me getting hit?” darry asked, and pony nodded anxiously. “oh, baby, that was nothing.”

“but you got hurt. you were laying on the field. soda and i were so scared…”

darry’s breath hitched in his throat, guilt building in his chest. he pulled pony closer to him, finding comfort in feeling his steady breaths.

“it’s football, it happens. i’m gonna be okay, though. you heard dad, if my brain were a little bit bigger it wouldn’t have happened at all.”

pony thought for a second, “i can read you some of my books if you think that would help…”

darry laughed, “i’ll let you know, but i think now it’s time to go to sleep.”

pony snuggled impossibly closer, “mm, okay.”

by the time mama came in to say goodnight, they were both already asleep, and when she came to wake up darry in the morning only to find soda squeezed in next to pony, she couldn’t bring herself to wake them up just yet. she waited in the doorway and watched the rise and fall of their chests, pony sandwiched between his brothers.

the world could wait, they needed each other.

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 3

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: yoongi being RICH. also... remember that eventual smut? well it's kind of here! if you wanna skip, stop reading at [Maybe you should fix that.] and then continue at [After another moment, you roll over onto your stomach...]

✧ WORDCOUNT: 3.5k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi i normally post on wednesdays but we're about to get a HURRICANE where i'm at so i'm posting early lmfao. rating goes up in this chapter whoops! not sure when chapter 4 will be posted but i'll keep you guys updated. thank you all so much for the engagement i've been receiving on this fic!!! it's my first one ever and i never expected to get so many readers so quickly <3 you guys are keeping me writing so please feel free to send me feedback if you like this chapter. i'd love to read it if i have power over the next few days LOL

Chapter 3: I Wanna Fold Clothes For You

So, you and Yoongi are friends.

Of course, seeing him three times within twenty four hours was a fluke, and over the next six days you don’t see him once, not even in passing in your shared hallway. You’re not privy to his work hours, but you know based on what little he’s told you that working as a producer demands more than the normal nine to five, as does your job.

Still, there’s something about coming home every night and knowing that you have a friend right down the hall, if you need one. You haven’t had that in a long time, and you feel so much lighter now that you do have it. 

There is, of course, an upside to not being able to see Yoongi often. Given that you’ve only just met him, you don’t have his appearance committed to memory quite yet, and mercifully, you’re beginning to forget why you were so viscerally attracted to him in the first place. 

You reason that it must’ve been the alcohol. You were getting drunk when you met him, stupidly drunk when you discovered that you’re neighbors, hungover when you shared a tangerine, and drinking from a bottomless glass of wine (courtesy of Seokjin) when you drooled over his hands for a solid ten minutes. You have yet to interact with Yoongi clear-headed and lucid. Not to mention you’re just a little bit… pent up, recently. Drunk and horny Y/N had the wheel. That has to be it. Nobody is that hot. You’re sure of that. Men ain’t special!

So you go through your week business as usual, but with a slight spring in your step, and it’s lovely. You even venture way further away from the office for your lunch hour on Friday than you normally would to go to a restaurant you’ve been dying to try. You’re usually so tied to the office that the furthest you tend to go is the convenience store down the street for the instant stuff.

And then, since the universe demands correction (or overcorrection where you’re concerned), all of the floaty goodness comes to a screeching halt when you get in your car to head back to the office. Your car which, in the past hour you’ve been blissfully stuffing your face with tteokbokki, has decided it has done its job and is ready to retire.

It just straight up won’t start.

Sitting in the parking lot of the restaurant, you go into crisis management mode.

You’re thankfully not completely clueless where cars are concerned. It comes with the territory of owning a beater. You keep up with your oil changes, you don’t leave the lights on when you get home late. You replaced your battery semi-recently, so that shouldn’t be it. Unfortunately, you don’t have much time to troubleshoot. You need to get back to work. Okay… Damage control, then.

The most obvious solution is to call one of your coworkers to come and rescue you, but your coworkers are just as notorious for being tethered within a one mile radius of the office as you are, so that would more than likely end up being a waste of time. You could find the nearest bus stop, but who knows how long public transportation could take right now? Too unpredictable. You could call your boss and tell him that you’re not going to be back to the office anytime soon (or at all today) and get your car towed and repaired. But then you would suddenly have a reputation of being unreliable, because god forbid you have a human moment. That’s straight up not an option. You’ve been doing so good this week.

You’re sure there are other options. But isn’t this what friends are for?

He answers on the fifth ring, but he answers.

“Y/N?” 

“Yoongi.” You feel your shoulders slump in relief. You try your best not to sound as panicked as you feel. “Are you busy?”

“Um. I’m at the studio,” he says, confusion in his voice. “But I have a minute. Is everything okay?” Confusion and concern? That’s nice.

“Everything’s fine!” you blurt out. “Okay, maybe not. My car won’t start! I don’t know why, but it won’t, and I need to get back to work, but you’re at work, too! I don’t even know where you work, but I doubt it’s anywhere near where I am, and even if it is, I don’t want to tear you away from anything important—”

“Y/N.”

“—I know you said you had a minute, but I really don’t want to fuck up your flow. That’s a term, right? You’re a producer, you… flow. Anyway, I just don’t really know anyone here and I didn’t know who to call, and if I don’t get back to work soon my boss is going to kill me—”

“Y/N,” he says, more firmly. Your mouth snaps shut. “Where are you?”

“In my car,” you say dumbly, frazzled.

Yoongi sighs. “Send me your location.”

“For what?”

“I’m gonna send a car to come get you and drive you to your office,” he says, and he sounds just the slightest bit exasperated about needing to explain that to you.

Send a car? What the fuck? You have so many questions, such as: how fucking loaded is the guy who lives two doors down from you in your very shitty apartment building? What label does he even work for? How famous of a producer is he to be able to send a car to you? But your immediate instinct to turn down his help wins out over asking any of them.

“What? Yoongi, no, that’s too much,” you complain. “Don’t do that. I just freaked out a little bit, I can–”

“Y/N,” he interrupts. If you’re not mistaken, it sounds a bit like he’s trying not to laugh at you. Fucker. “Location.”

So you send him your location. What other option do you have?

“You’re not far,” Yoongi says once he receives your text. A few moments pass, and then: “Car will be there in ten.”

“Thank you,” you say. You feel nauseous, like maybe you’re going to cry, but there’s also a good amount of relief there, too. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“No need,” he says. “I’d come get you myself, but I really can’t get away right now.”

“Still, there’s a comically large bottle of an alcohol of your choosing in your future. Seriously, thank you.”

His responding laugh is enough to settle your stomach just a little. “Seriously, you don’t need to pay me back…” A pause. “But for the record, I like whiskey.”

You wrinkle your nose even though he can’t see it. “Gross.”

“Don’t be a hater.”

“As long as you don’t make me drink it with you, I’ll keep my comments to myself,” you say, finding yourself smiling.

“Oh, you think I share?” Yoongi teases back. He sighs again. “I really have to go.”

“Go, go,” you say. “Thanks for saving me. Even if it’s by proxy.”

“You can always call me if you need shit like this,” he says. You can tell that he means it. “I’m glad you called me. Means I’m doing something right.”

“You are,” you say, your voice soft. Your cheeks feel warm. Probably because you’re sitting in a dead car. “Thanks.”

Yoongi hums in response. “Text me when you get back to the office safe, okay?”

“I will. Bye, Yoongi.”

And that’s that.

★ ★ ★

True to your word, you text Yoongi when the stupidly luxurious car he ordered for you drops you off at your office, only ten minutes later than you’re due back from your lunch break. You’re able to slip in without anyone noticing that you’re late at all, which is great. Crisis partially averted.

He sends back a thumbs up emoji, and then decides to drop the bomb that he intends to pay for your car to be towed.

[1:21] You: YOONGI NO

[1:21] You: you can’t do that!!!!

[1:24] Yoongi: 100% I can and will as soon as I get ten minutes to make a phone call to sort it out.

The audacity of this man.

[1:25] You: seriously i cannot ask you to do that

[1:25] You: i was just going to take the bus back to the restaurant after work and deal with it from there. i’m actively researching towing companies and repair places on company time as we speak

[1:30] Yoongi: You’re not asking me. You’ve got enough to worry about. Let me take care of it. I know the places.

[1:31] You: still, i can’t let you spend money like that on me. i don’t even wanna think about what that car cost you

[1:31] Yoongi: If it helps you sleep at night you can pay me back on your own time. You definitely don’t have to though.

[1:32] Yoongi: That reminds me. You can use that car until yours is taken care of if you need to. I’ll send you the driver’s contact. Don’t take the bus.

You feel like you’re going insane.

[1:33] You: do you have a grammy or something? what do you DO to be able to afford shit like this? why do you live in our building? are you a drug dealer?

[1:37] Yoongi: :]

Of course, he gives you no clues about what exactly he does, but after a bit more back-and-forth, you finally give in and let Yoongi handle everything under the condition that you’re going to pay him back. He doesn’t seem all that worried about it, which infuriates you just a little.

You go through the rest of your day like normal, if not a tad twitchy. Come quitting time, you take advantage of having a driver at your disposal and have him stop a liquor store on your way home.

As you take the elevator up to your floor, comically large whiskey bottle (as promised) in tow, you text Yoongi and ask if he’s home yet. At his responding ‘No, why?’ you cackle to yourself and pocket your phone. The elevator doors slide open. You were hoping that would be the case. 

You clocked out at a semi-normal time tonight, a gift to yourself to cope with the stress of the day, and so you take great pleasure in setting the bottle down on Yoongi’s very tasteful cat doormat, flipping it off right back on your way into your own apartment.

You silently pray to whatever god may be listening that the whiskey isn’t swiped by someone before Yoongi gets home. Your cat, Pepper, is blinking at you lazily on the kitchen counter, and you give her a triumphant little scratch on the head before padding to your bedroom to deal with your laundry.

Your move, Min Yoongi.

★ ★ ★

“Do I need to be jealous?”

You take advantage of getting off work early to call your best friend Rina for the first time in what feels like forever. She’s in Paris this month, debuting a play that she’s been working on tirelessly about aliens and drug addiction. You’ve read the script six times over. It’s both campy and gut wrenching all at once, and you’ve cried every time. You picture her with her very chic haircut, sipping from a flute of champagne. The thought of her being jealous of any part of your life is laughable. 

“What do you have to be jealous of, exactly?” you snort, holding your phone between your ear and shoulder as you toss your laundry basket upside down on your bed unceremoniously. Your clothes are covered in a perma-layer of Pepper hair, and you think it’s lucky that Pepper is a black cat and most of your clothes are black. Very enviable.

“Of Yoongi, dipshit,” she coos through the phone. “You’re replacing me.”

“Sure,” you say, like she’s making total sense. You’re lying on top of your laundry now instead of folding it. You put her on speakerphone and rest your phone on your chest. “I’m throwing away ten years of being your best friend for a guy that I met a week ago. I’m glad you figured it out, honestly, because I was dreading telling you. I was going to wait until your matinée, but you don’t seem too broken up about it.”

“Of course. You have to do what’s right for you, I’ve always told you that,” she deadpans back, and you groan. You don’t want to hear it. “No, I just mean… It’s good. That you’re meeting people.”

“We’re neighbors,” you say, flopping over onto your front to rub at your temples. Rina is resting on a pile of your underwear now. “We talk about work. My work, not his, because he thinks it’s funny to act like he’s too cool to tell me about his job. He’s helping me with my car. We’re… neighborly.”

“And you want to fuck him,” she says. Maybe calling Rina was a bad idea. Debriefing over text would have sufficed.

“I don’t want to fuck him,” you say, indignant. “We’re friends. He’s nice. I can have a guy friend.”

“Of course you can,” Rina says, like you’re dumb for even thinking she would imply otherwise. “And you can be friends with him all you want. But you also want to fuck him.”

You groan in protest but she speaks over it.

“Baby, you can pretend, but I know how you talk about people you want to have sex with, even if you don’t say it outright,” she continues. “He may just be feeding you and helping you and talking to you about the weather, but I know you, and I know the whole time he’s talking you’re just agonizing over how he might fuck you if you let him.”

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, letting your face drop into your laundry. It smells good. Small comforts.

“Are you going to let him?”

“No,” you whine, muffled by the cotton. “I don’t need that. There are always strings. I hate strings.”

“You said he’s a super straightforward, honest guy, right?” Rina asks.

“Brutally so,” you grumble.

“So. Maybe he’d be cool with a lack of strings. You won’t know unless you ask, baby.”

You want to tell her that’s easy for her to say, but you don’t want to fight with her when you know you won’t hear from her like this again for a while. 

Rina has never compromised for anything. She decided in both of your sophomore year of college, after flirting with both performance and directing, that she wanted to be a playwright, and that was that. 

She wrote and wrote and wrote, and after you graduated together, her career blossomed almost instantly because she worked goddamn hard for it. She got opportunities to travel and work with theatre companies around the world, and she took them without giving it a second thought because she knew it was what she wanted. And she’s had a consistent, loyal boyfriend nearly the whole time. He doesn’t always travel with her, but he supports her in everything she does. They’re excruciatingly healthy about it. 

When your long-term college boyfriend dumped you unceremoniously two months into your first reporter gig because he felt he came second to your career, Rina was there for you. But you resented her a little bit. There was no way she could understand any of it. 

Still, as much as you hate to admit it, she has a point. You could just ask Yoongi if he wants to fool around without it being a thing, and you know he’d give you a straight answer. You’re even pretty confident he wouldn’t make it weird if his answer was no. That’s not the problem. It never is.

“The problem isn’t whether or not I think he’d be cool with it,” you mumble. “The problem is if he is cool with it, and then the strings come anyway. The friendship is nice. I’m attracted to him, yeah, fine. But I can ignore it if it means I get to be his friend.”

Theres a long pause on the line, and then Rina sighs.

“Your life would be a lot easier if you could do one night stands,” she says.

Don’t you know it. 

“Yeah.”

“I’ve gotta go, okay? Text me. Keep me updated on life.” You read between the lines. On Yoongi, she means. “I love you.”

“Mmmhh,” you mumble back, still burying your face into your laundry. 

When the line disconnects, you feel considerably more twitchy and irritable than you did before talking to Rina.

So, you’re attracted to Yoongi. Or you were, when you were drunk and he was all… hot and considerate. That doesn’t mean you have to act on it! You’re not going to act on it. You’re just pent up, that’s all. It’s been a long time since you’ve had an orgasm, self-inflicted or otherwise, and you can’t think straight.

Maybe you should fix that.

It’s clear you’re giving up on laundry for the night, so you shove the mountain of clothes back into the basket on the floor, sighing as you lay back on your bed.

You feel only slightly ridiculous as you shimmy your sleep shorts down your thighs, your hands sliding up your shirt to cup your breasts, squeezing slightly. Warming yourself up.

You quickly decide to get to the point, though. You’re struggling to immerse yourself in the fantasy that usually does the trick, too wound up and embarrassed (as if it’s not you in here by yourself, as usual) at groping yourself.

Despite the embarrassment, it becomes abundantly clear that you didn’t really need to warm yourself up anyway. Your fingers slide through your folds with ease, drenched like you’ve been that way all fucking day, unbeknownst to you, and a surprised moan falls from your lips. Fuck.

Closing your eyes, you circle two fingers around your clit experimentally, making your hips jerk up under you, sensitive. You do it again, a little firmer, starting a slow rhythm that makes you squirm against your mattress, your bottom lip rolling between your teeth.

It feels good. It usually does—you’ve always been able to make quick work of an orgasm to rid yourself of any lingering jitters before bed. But it feels really good right now, your pussy extra sensitive tonight, and you can’t figure out why. There’s nothing new about what you’re doing.

Rina’s words worm their way into your brain uninvited—the whole time he’s talking you’re just agonizing over how he might fuck you if you let him—and you’re too turned on to stop that train of thought, flashes of capable hands and pink tongue (tonguetechnologytonguetechnologytonguetechnology) filling your mind, and you’re moaning softly despite yourself as you rub your clit a little faster.

You continue to make soft noises of pleasure, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, dry from panting as the barrage of Yoongi-related thoughts keep coming, bringing you closer and closer to your release. 

Dark, dark eyes looking down at you. A delicate chain dangling above your face. You whimper, your fingers sliding down from your clit to sink into your pussy, curling up to rub at your inner walls. A thick cock sliding into you, filling you so deliciously.

You pump your fingers fast and desperate as you get closer and closer to that sweet edge. You wonder what Yoongi would sound like if he was the one fucking into you right now. Would he moan in your ear in that gravelly voice of his? He’s a man of few words. Would he be like that in bed, too? Would he call you sweet names? Not so sweet? Which ones?

Your walls flutter around your fingers, your hips stuttering up off the mattress as your orgasm crashes over you and you gasp out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

You stare up at the ceiling for a minute panting. The high of your release buzzes pleasantly through your body before it starts ebbing away, but the thoughts of Yoongi pervade. Well, fuck.

After another moment, you roll over onto your stomach to grab a towel from your laundry basket and wipe off your fingers, tossing it on the floor. You grab your phone, only to be greeted by a notification from the subject of your masturbation fantasy himself. He sent it about ten minutes ago.

When you tap it open, you’re greeted with a photo (!!!) of Yoongi holding your gift next to his head, the hand wrapped around the neck of the whiskey bottle almost dwarfed by its sheer size. A testament to the ridiculousness of it, because you’re well aware of how long Yoongi’s fingers are. There’s a lazy smirk on his face, and a mole that you’re just now noticing on his right cheek.

[8:23] Yoongi: Cute. 

Yep. Yep. Cool.

You swipe out, tapping on Rina’s contact.

[8:35] You: okay. i want to fuck him. 

[8:35] Rina: 🥂🥳🎉

Shit.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj @jajabro

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[storm-angel989]

The last request I asked for was absolutely amazing, I loved it! I’ve been into reading sickfics recently and I’d love to see how valentino and reader’s daughter would be taken care of when she has a stomach bug

Hi there!

Enjoy! I love writing these sweet little fics! Dad Val is literally my favorite!

<3 Mandy

Valentino knew that look.

The scrunched up face, hand on tummy “Daddy I don’t feel so good,” look that was inevitably followed by projectile vomiting. 

He swore, sometimes kids were worse than drunk adults. At least sometimes they had the witherwell to go to the bathroom, rather than force him to pull her as quickly as he could to the toilet.

“Oh bebita,” he sighed as he held back her hair. “Something didn’t sit right in your tummy did it?” He could feel the heat radiating off of her little body and with his one free hand, texted Vox. 

She started to sniffle and Valentino gently rubbed her back. His heart ached for his little girl.

“No no, don’t cry, I know your tummy hurts, but crying will only make things worse,” he said as soothingly as he could. 

Instead she doubled over again.

“Want Mommy,” she whined. “Papi, I want Mommy.”

“Mommy isn’t here mi amore,” he replied patiently as he carefully wiped her face. He reached over and rummaged around in the vanity drawer before coming up with the thermometer. He pressed it to her ear and pulled away when it beeped. He sighed at the number- 103.2. Way too high for his liking. 

Her whimpers turned to tears and he gently held her to his chest as he sat cross legged on the floor with her. She hiccuped again and he positioned her right back to the toilet. 

“Hey, you guys okay?” Vox asked as he pushed open the bathroom door. “Oh no, what’s wrong with the baby?” 

“She feels warm and she’s throwing up, reader is out of town and…Vox can you…” Valentino sighed unhappily. “Can you get me a cool wash cloth for her and call the pediatrician? Just put him on speakerphone.” 

Vox looked ever so slightly amused but dialed the memorized number as he damped a washcloth. Valentino carefully held it against his daughter’s forehead as he explained her symptoms to the doctor. A quick diagnosis of the stomach bug and suggestions for pedialyte and children's tylenol. Ice chips and popsicles. Crackers when she decided she was hungry. Vox hung up the phone and looked at Valentino.

“You heard the doc, it's going around. Rest, lots of fluids as she’ll tolerate them.” Vox turned to the sink and quickly filled a dixie cup with water. “Just have her sip on this for now.”

Valentino gave him a look.  “Vox, I’m not going to sit here and let this fever fester. Or let her keep getting sick. Go downstairs, tell the nurse I need a pediatric IV and…”

“Oh fuck no. Sorry Val, but I’m not letting you stick a needle into her. Adults are one thing, she’s too little,” Vox replied firmly. “And no offense, but your wife would be livid if you ignored the doctors advice and did fuck all. Besides, she’s got to get it all out of her system.”

“Language,” Valentino grumbled. But he knew Vox was right. He made a mental note to take a few courses on pediatric care. Just so Vox wouldn’t be right next time. 

“Listen, I’ll run to the store right now and get everything, it will be faster than waiting for housekeeping.” Vox continued. “And I’ll let Vel know too.”

“Can you try to get a message to my wife?” Valentino asked. “Fuck whatever she’s doing, I…”

“Language,” Vox teased gently. “But I can try. I make no promises though. She’s…”

“Busy, I know,” Valentino grumbled. 

Five hours later, the sickness seemed to be dissipating. It had been a solid twenty minutes between that moment and the last time she threw up. Valentino leaned over to the bathtub and turned on the cool water as he held his exhausted child. 

“Daddy? My belly hurts, and I’m thirsty,” she whined softly. 

He carefully poured the smallest amount from the bottle of pedialyte into cup. “Just a sip. Little sip.” 

To his relief, she did as she was told. Carefully, he lifted her up and went to set her in the bathtub. 

“No, Daddy!” She clinged to him tightly. “No!”

“Baby, I can’t give you more medication, and we have to get that fever down,” he told her patiently.

She clung to him tighter and sighed. Fine, if she wouldn’t get in by herself, he’d get in with her. He removed his phone and keys from his pocket and dropped them on the floor next to the bathtub. Carefully, he stepped into the water and slowly sank down into the tub, clothes be damned. 

She clung to him at first, but as the cool water soothed her skin she relaxed her grip. 

“Better?” Valentino asked. 

She nodded and let herself sink into the cool water. Valentino carefully took a cup full and poured it over her shoulders. After a few moments, he pressed his hand to her forehead. Good. Cooler now.

“Hey, how are we doin…oh, we’re at that point, huh?” Velvette asked as she surveyed the scene. “Not for nothing, Valentino but if you had told me that at any point you’d be in a bathtub in jeans…”

“Not. Not now Vel,” Valentino grumbled. “Can you grab the thermometer for me?” 

“Yeah yeah, let me,” Velvette replied as she picked up the thermometer. “Babygirl, tilt your head for Auntie.” 

To Valentino’s relief, she complied. As soon as it was off of her ear, she cuddled into Valentino and shivered. He wrapped his arms around her  Velvette looked at the number when it flashed.

“99.6,” she announced.

Valentino sighed, “alright, that’s better. She puked up the tylenol I tried to give her an hour ago…and I can’t give her more for another three, but I think we can get her into dry pjs and into bed.”

“I think so too. You dry her off, I’ll go get the both of you clean pjs,” Velvette said as she turned and walked out the door. 

Carefully, Valentino lifted his daughter back into his arms and stood up, letting the water drip from them both. He stepped out of the tub and, ignoring his own sopping wet outfit, quickly took her wet clothes off, wrapped her in a pink bath towel and set her on the counter. He grabbed a second towel and set to work towel drying her hair.  

“You look sleepy baby,” he cooed softly. “Papi’s going to get you into your jammies and then bedtime, okay?” 

She nodded sleepily and when Velvette came back, he quickly tugged the t-shirt over her head, and dressed her in a pair of pajama pants. 

“Val, I’ll take her to bed, you take a second and dry off,” Velvette said as she reached for the little girl. 

“No! Auntie, want Daddy!” She cried and reached for Valentino. 

“No no, don’t cry, you’ll make yourself sick again,” Valentino said quickly. “Go to bed with Auntie and count to twenty, and by the time you’re almost done I’ll be back out and in bed with you, okay?” 

She sniffled and buried her head into Velvette’s neck. Velvette quickly closed the door and Valentino made fast work of stripping off his sopping wet clothes and shoving himself into his favorite red and black plaid pajama shorts and a black t-shirt. 

“See! Told you Daddy would be back before we reached twenty!” Velvette sang as she sat on the bed. 

Valentino walked over and opened his arms. His little girl crawled against his chest and the second her head laid over his heart, she fell asleep.

“You’re lucky she can’t count,” Velvette said as she perched on the side of the bed. “Anything I can get you Val? Water? Food?”

“Just my phone, and maybe a cup of coffee, I’m going to try to stay up…”

Velvette shook her head. “Sleep when the baby sleeps. Trust me, you’ll know if she gets sick again. She’s safe in your arms, Val. You’re a good dad.” She reached over and squeezed his arm affectionately before hopping off the bed. 

By the time Velvette returned with water, snacks and his phone, Valentino was fast asleep with his daughter curled up on his chest. Velvette smiled and pulled the blanket up over his lap, quietly deposited the items on the nightstand and carefully closed the door behind her.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Twenty: Friend Or Foe, Part I

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of grief and death (steve is having a hard time and it's my fault), themes of threat

[A/N: Did anyone say they've been needing a writer to return with a buttload of angst and scream-worthy cliffhangers? No? Well, I'm back now so I guess you don't have a choice.]

Friend Or Foe, Part I

He can’t stop replaying that moment in his head.

“I’m gonna turn any minute now.” You place your hands on his cheeks, making sure he was listening to your every word. “And I don’t want my last memory to be crossing back into our home knowing I won’t make it five steps before the virus kills me. Okay? So, you’re gonna go through the gate and you’re not ever gonna look back. Please. Don’t come back for me.”

“I can’t-” He cries and you bring his forehead down to touch yours, nodding.

“I know.” You whisper, leaning forward to leave a feather-light kiss on his lips.

His eyes are still closed when you lean back, studying him one last time.

“Which is why I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes snap open just in time to watch your hands find his chest and shove him as hard as you can, his body ripping through the gate faster than he can experience.

His back hits solid concrete, making him groan. It takes a second for him to blink away the dots in his vision, slowly sitting up. He can see your figure clearly, your sad eyes, the smile gracing your lips.

And then the gate starts to sew itself shut.

Your words are stuck on a never-ending loop, the bittersweet memory of your voice floating past his ears every morning he awoke since he lost you. It replays because his subconscious wants to torture him, remind him of everything he could have done but never did.

If he had just opened his eyes... If he had opened his eyes, you wouldn’t be trapped in the Upside Down. If he had opened his eyes, Jonathan Byers would still be alive.

The ceiling he stared at never crushed him like he wanted it to every time he blinked into to the realisation he was a failure. He couldn’t do anything right. Everyone around him would be better off if the murky grey ceiling caved in and buried him under its rubble.

And yet even with all his silent prayers, the building stayed steady, and he was forced to push himself out of bed and face the reality. He messed up, twice. And now everyone else had to pay for it.

Just as he pulled a shirt over his head, a drone of voices could be heard from the living room. He cracks open his door, Hopper’s rough words echoing loud.

“They’re forcing us to leave.”

Steve sobered up fast, quickly and quietly descending the staircase and rounding the corner to a view of, well, everyone. Hopper must have called everyone in for a meeting. Everyone but him.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, ignoring the looks from the Party. They always greeted him with such pity now, sorrow lacing their features like he was a kicked puppy that needed cheering up.

“Just in time.” Hopper greets, running a hand down his face. “The military are expanding the quarantine.”

“When?” Steve crossed his arms, frowning.

“Tomorrow morning.” Hopper sighs and Steve’s heart sinks. “Unfortunately for us, we’re close to the danger zone already. They want us packed up by tonight or…”

“Or?” Nancy prompts. Steve notices the worn expression she tries to mask, another shot at his chest. Losing Jonathan was sucking away her life force. And he did that to her.

“Or they’re removing us with force.” He says grimly, a few scattered mutters filling the silence. “They’ve tried keeping the monsters at bay but it’s a losing battle. I tried arguing, but they’re not looking for opinions. They’re doing a full sweep of the danger zone borders and moving everyone out. Our hands are tied.”

“What if we hide?” Dustin suggests, nodding wildly. His friends nod too, but with less conviction.

“Not that easy.” Hopper tightens his lips. “Our last search attempts for food have been failures. We won’t have enough rations to keep going even if we found a way to avoid the quarantine. The infestation is beyond our control without those gates. We’ll have to… give up.”

His eyes wander down to the map displayed on the table in front of him, staring at the crossed out circles of missed opportunities. The watergates, as the young boy had dubbed. And the pattern you found even when all hope felt lost.

“But we can’t find those gates if we’re not… here.” Dustin deflates as gravity pulls him back down to the suggestion in Hopper’s words. “We won’t find Y/n if we’re not here.”

“We can’t find her anyway.” Robin mutters, folding her arms tighter against her chest. Steve sends a curious look her way, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. He understands why she must be so bitter, losing her best friend like that- her only friend, as she had reminded him before. But he didn’t expect her to be this cold, even if it’s taking longer to find you than anticipated.

“I’m going to give the search one more shot.” Hopper announces, running a hand down his face. He clearly hadn’t slept, tone too low, his body slumping against the table as he fought against exhaustion. “If there are no rations left for us, we’ll have to pack up and leave with the rest of them. I can lead the search if no one wants to-”

“I’ll do it.” Steve steps forward, surprised expressions adorning everyone’s faces. Steve hadn’t left the house since they lost Jonathan, and he had made no suggestion until now that he was ready to do that.

“Kid-” Hopper begins with a sigh, but Steve shakes his head.

“It’s supposed to be my turn anyway.” She shrugs, ignoring his bubbling fits of anxiety growing in his chest. “No point sending too many people out in case it is a lost cause.”

“You can’t go alone.” He responds, brows furrowed. He knew better than to argue with him when they were running out of time. “That’s the rule.”

Steve mentally sighs. Who would want to go with him? The last time he led a mission, he fucked it all up.

“I’ll go.”

He grits his teeth. Great.

Billy emerges from the shadowed corner he had watched from, smirking at Steve as he approaches the table.

“I’ve been out there more than anyone, I know how to get into the stores undetected.” He practically boasts. Steve wanted to groan, a sickly feeling in his stomach when Hopper agrees without reservation. Does he know what Billy did to them last year?

“That’s settled then. You two head off when you’re ready. I think… I think I’m gonna head back up and keep searching.” The last part was mumbled under his breath as Hopper leaves the table and trudges back up the stairs. Steve stares almost mournfully after him. He was in so much pain and, even so, he would never show it.

Like father, like daughter.

“Ready when you are, buttercup.” Billy grins, folding his arms.

Steve bit his tongue, glancing over at a punchable face if he ever saw one. “Sure.”

He starts searching for a bag when a hand is thrust into his view, the very object hanging from their fingers.

“Take mine.” Nancy offers, and he takes it with a timid smile.

Since the mission, Nancy has barely uttered 5 words to him. Well, 7 now, which Steve thinks he should be grateful for. After all, if it had been Nancy searching for Jonathan, if it had been you caught in the crossfires of shapeshifters because Nancy wasn’t focused, would he have ever talked to her again?

“Thanks.” He says, and she walks away without so much as a second glance, heading for the staircase. She’s been more adamant on spending time with Will than he has been lately.

“Good luck.” Dustin calls when he reaches the door, Billy behind him.

“Don’t need it.” Billy responds, and Dustin purses his lips.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” He mutters and Billy frowns.

“What did you say?” He growls.

“I said, break a leg!” Dustin throws two thumbs up, grinning.

“And an arm.” Max whispers, and Lucas stifles his giggles.

“Whatever.” Billy swings open the door and steps out without so much as a goodbye. Although, Steve wondered who he’d be needing to pay his farewells too. The only person who seems to have ever shown interest in his care was, well, you.

“I’ll see you later.” Steve smiles at Dustin, the boy throwing out a salute that made him smile.

Even if Steve was stuck with his worst enemy, at least he felt like he was finally contributing something. Something Dustin could be proud of.

Maybe even something that could help find you.

This was a terrible idea.

They were an hour into their search and had been attacked twice. Once by a stray demodog, another by an infected – or rather, a demoperson as Dustin reminded them at every opportunity. Steve thought calling them infected felt more humane, even if a little on-the-nose. After all, they weren’t born like that.

On both attacks, it was made painstakingly clear that Billy didn’t care if Steve lived or died.

“What the hell, man?” Steve pants, planting his boot on the demodog’s back as he pulled his bat free from its flesh.

Billy was leant against a tree, arms folded as he watched with an amused grin. He had stayed that way even when Steve was struggling against the surprise attack. The demodogs were becoming more frequent, which could only mean a pack was nearby.

“You couldn’t have helped?!” Steve stresses, glaring at him.

Billy only shrugs, looping his shotgun back onto his shoulder. “We only shoot for emergencies, right? Don’t wanna alert the whole freak town that we’re here.”

“Right.” Steve grits his teeth, adjusting his backpack. “You always have an excuse, huh?”

“It’s called having a brain, pretty boy.” Billy smirks, nodding to his left. “This way should be clear. It’ll lead us straight past the Radio Shack and to the General Store. We didn’t make it this far last time so maybe we’ll get lucky.”

He doesn’t wait for Steve’s approval, gripping the strap of the shotgun and heading back down the road. Steve considered letting him go by himself, see how amusing he finds it when no one is helping him. But then he remembered he wasn’t an asshole, so he takes a breath and follows him.

When Steve saw the Radio Shack building, his whole body felt like it was in fight or flight. It looked so similar.

It was like he was still in the Upside Down, the vines coiling around the structure like a bad memory. It was tainted, his memory. Because as he looked at something that should feel terrifying, something that should make his heart beat out of his chest and wash a wave of dread over his head, he was utterly fixated by the idea that you could be in there, on the other side, waiting for him to find you.

“Harrington.” Billy snaps him out of his trance. Steve shakes his head. He felt like he was going crazy.

But what if he wasn’t? What if he was right? If he squinted his eyes, he could just force the image of someone walking around in there, a shadow that looked like yours. Maybe...

“She won’t be there.”

Steve pauses. He looks beside him but Billy isn’t standing there. He was stood just outside of the building, looking in.

“What?” Steve frowns. He doesn’t think he’s seen him look so… forlorn.

“Y/n.” He says softly, meeting Steve’s eyes and walking away from the store. “She would have answered the radio calls by now.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s dead.” Steve replies, shoulders tensing.

“Didn’t say that.” He shrugs, tilting his head. “But none of us really know. Apart from you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re the last one to see her before you’re conveniently safe on the other side.” He clicks his tongue. “I overheard Hopper talking to the Byers mom when you got back. He said you were muttering something the entire way home. Something about monsters.”

“Probably.” Steve shrugs, swallowing his nerves. “It wasn’t easy getting to the motel. We almost didn’t make it.”

“Almost.” Billy scoffs, chuckling darkly. “Tell me, Harrington… Why didn’t Y/n cross the gate with you?”

Steve shakes his head. “I-”

“You just said you almost didn’t make it. So did she almost not make it?”

“We got separated.” He says, gripping his bat tightly. “I watched the gate close before she made it through. She’s alive.”

Billy narrows his eyes, assessing the way Steve is trying not to react to his empty suggestions. He isn’t giving up on his story, and even Billy can tell Steve truly believes you’re still alive.

“Look, if you’re done being an asshole, how about we find some food so our friends don’t starve to death.”

“Your friends.” Billy corrects. “And don’t think everyone is buying your little story. I know you’re hiding something from us.”

“Just forget it, man.” Steve was turning around now, clenching his jaw.

“Oh come on, you really expect me to believe you passed through the gate without making sure she was there first? You always had that fake chivalry act going for you, don’t tell me you gave it up just to save your own ass.” Billy sneers, walking closer to him. “No wonder everyone’s been avoiding you lately, you couldn’t even bring back the one person they give a shit about-”

“Shut up!” Steve yells at him, a white-knuckled grip on his bloodied bat, “I don’t need you reminding me of how I messed up, okay?! I relive that moment every fucking day of my life and it hurts every single time!”

Billy seems surprised for once, eyes drifting to the left. He follows his gaze, startled by his own hand holding his weapon as if ready for a strike. He unclenches his jaw, letting his arm rest back down by his side and backing away, choosing not to comment on his sudden display of intended violence.

“Does the chief know you’re in love with his daughter?”

He pauses for a moment, wondering if he should answer. He bites his tongue. It was none of his fucking business.

When they finally arrive at their destination, Steve had never seen the General Store so empty in his life.

It was usually filled with everything you could possibly want. Well, as much as a small town in Indiana could use, anyway. From food, to tools, to craft supplies, the place was always packed to the brim and seemingly never ran out of stock. But this time, it was cleaned out.

A few stray boxes of cardboard littered the floor, the shelves bare of any supplies they desperately needed. They’re usual strike of bad luck was a lightning bolt to their last chance of saving Hawkins.

“I’m gonna check the back.” Billy announces, charging to the back door. Steve didn’t bother going with him; he already knew he wouldn’t find anything.

He remembers the Upside Down in this moment. The concerning lack of any hunger or thirst never crossing your minds as you wandered from place to place, chasing a ghost that never existed. When he had left, it had all come crashing down on him like a wave of sickness, restricting him to his bed until he didn’t feel weak anymore. Physically, at least.

He wondered how you were right now. Were you scared? Were you safe? Had the virus continued spreading? He hated he couldn’t see or hear you, that you weren’t here to satisfy his anxiety. He even hated that he needed you so much, the girl he couldn’t stand a year ago and now the girl he couldn’t stand to lose.

Goosebumps start to line his skin, prickling at his arms. It was probably a breeze of cold air, but Steve had remembered Joyce’s tales of feeling her son’s presence when he was on the other side. He kept imagining it was you beside him, letting him know you were okay.

Steve looks out of the window, heart leaping into his throat as he catches his reflection. It wasn’t his. A pale face, hollow and scorched at the sides, glared back at him, a tilted head of curiousness. When Steve blinks, he sees himself again, startled brown eyes and a messy mane of hair, nothing like the man he saw before.

“Nothin’ out back.” Billy’s voice drones back into the room, a hand running through his mane of hair. “You find anything?”

“Uh…” Steve takes another glance at the window, wondering if he could catch sight of the ghost haunting him. But with his own face staring back, he had to assume his sleepless nights had caught up with him. “No. Nothing.”

“Fuck.” Billy kicks an empty packet with his boot. “I knew this would’ve been the first place to be emptied.”

Steve takes another look around. He takes note of the shelves, moving closer. Dust was settled on the surfaces, drawing lines around bare shapes of cleaner wood and metal. He runs his finger across the lighter spaces, nothing clinging to his skin.

“Only recently…” He mutters, but Billy picks up on it in the stark silence.

“You saying someone got here before us? Like right before us?”

“Look around. The place is spotless. The shelves might be dusty but there’s a clean space where stuff has been taken. It can’t have been more than a few days since someone else was here.”

“Huh.” Billy raises an eyebrow. “I guess we’re not the only ones camping out in the apocalypse.”

A shatter of glass echoed from outside the building, startling them into their fighting stances. Steve’s bat was clenched in his fists as soon as the peaceful silence was broken, and the shotgun had slid into Billy’s arms once the glass hit the floor. They both stared out of the murky windows, an intense concentration on their faces.

“We hit nightfall.” Steve grits his teeth, risking a look to Billy. The boy’s expression was that of the same, eyebrows furrowed. They shouldn’t have been here this long.

“Well, shit.” Billy starts backing up to the doors, eyes glued to the darkening sky. “I guess we better find camp for the night. Preferably somewhere I’m not gonna get eaten.”

“The library.” Steve sniffs, adjusting his posture to face his companion. “It’s the only building left with a solid structure. I say we barricade ourselves in for the night and move out as soon as we can.”

“Nice to see you can use your brain, Harrington.” Billy says, gently opening the door with his shoulder and peering out. “We’re clear.”

As they leave the store, Steve feels like someone is watching them, his eyes constantly glancing back to the Radio Shack until it was far out of sight, an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something didn’t feel right but, then again, it hadn’t felt right for a long time.

Before they had even reached the library on steady footing, a clash of lightning burns the night sky into a crimson red, thunder rolling through the dark clouds. Their quiet footsteps splashed into puddles of rain, wet soaking their clothes as a storm started to roll in. The change in weather was a curse and a blessing; it restricted their safety of escape, but heightened their chances of evading monsters. After all, how could they stalk their prey when every sense was overwhelmed by the fury of mother nature?

For once, Steve felt like he made the right call. The library was still standing tall, vines slithered up the sides but weren’t quite strong enough to break the stone. The inside was empty, a few bookcases fallen and pages scattered, no sign of life in sight.

“I’ll take first watch.” Steve says, propping himself up against the desk, bat laid across his lap.

Billy didn’t object, setting down his gear and adjusting the dusty chair pillows they had pulled from the study hall into a makeshift bed behind the counter. He didn’t utter a word when he laid down, and Steve’s head fell back against the wood. As it did, he noticed something etched into the side of the wood from the corner of his eye, twisting his body to glance at it. ‘Save us’, it said. He gulped. Considering how empty the place was, it seems like it was too late for whoever wrote that message.

His eyes return to staring down the double doors like the cabinets they had dragged over wouldn’t hold. They didn’t last time he was in this position. And this time he wasn’t sure there was a single closet he could hide himself in. He just had to make sure he kept his eyes open. If he kept his eyes open, nothing bad could happen.

He sat there staring at the doors for hours, fingers mindlessly tapping against the handle of his bat until Billy’s rough voice called out behind him, alerting him that his shift was over. Steve’s eyes were heavy before he had even swapped places with him, head resting against the firm fabric on the floor. He wasn’t sure he would sleep, but his body overpowered his mind, pulling his subconscious elsewhere...

“Hey, we can get out through the window. Wasn’t rocket science, but I’m still a genius.”

He turns back to look at you over his shoulder, smiling. You’re currently near the far corner, your back facing him. You don’t seem to have heard him, breathing in odd intervals as you stare down at your hands.

“Y/n.” He tries again, louder. Your head twitches. Steve releases the latch on the window, fear flooding his entire body. He slowly steps away from the window, his eyes permanently glued to the back of your head, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

Trying again, his voice cracks under the pressure of speaking your name like it would warp the vicious reality he was living in.

“Y/n?”

You snap your head to him, and the colour drains from his face.

“No…”

He lost you.

The world bled to grey as tears start trailing from his eyes, staring into yours. Except, they weren’t yours. They were darker, soulless. Black blood was dripping from your chin, staining your lips.

“Don’t do this.” He begs, unable to find the force to speak louder than a whisper. “Y/n, please. It’s not- I can’t hurt you. You know I can’t hurt you. Y/n...”

You snarled at him this time, your mannerisms unnerving. It wasn’t you anymore...

You suddenly lunge at him and he instinctively dives for his bag, rolling away from your attack in the last second. He unzips it, staring down. He couldn’t do this.

Snarls and hisses spit from your mouth as you scramble up from the floor, blinking rapidly as you search in the dark.

Click.

Your whole body snaps to him in one sharp movement. With a shaking hand, he stares directly into your eyes.

“Y/n, please.” He sobs, “Please, you have to be in there.”

Not even the mournful pressure against his chest felt as heavy as the gun in his hand, tears rolling down his face.

“It’s me.” He tries again, hoping his voice could break you free from the virus. “It’s me. Steve. Remember?”

He should have known hope was never his friend. A voice completely alien to you rips out a screech from your throat, and hell comes to bludgeon him with the worst it had to offer.

Steve watches in horror as the skin starts peeling from your face, tearing it into pieces like a flower and its petals. Like a demogorgon.

It was too late. You weren’t coming back to him.

You run at him, sharp teeth bared, mind forever gone.

Steve’s eyes shut and he pulls the trigger, a sob echoing past his lips when the sound of your body hitting the floor fills the basement with regret. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, holding his breath.

His hands are shaking, heartbeat bursting into his eardrums. Steve starts to realise it’s a dream, that he had already lived this moment, that none of it had ever been real. It’s not real…

Even with his nerves on fire, he lowers the gun, hands feeling lighter the longer he remembers this never happened. He can open his eyes. He can force the image of your smiling face into his dream. He can make this nightmare disappear.

He opens his eyes.

And stares into the milky white pupils of a scorched face.

“Find her”

Steve jolts himself awake, blinking against the sudden light blaring through the windows. His heart was thumping out of his chest, the image of the ghost’s eyes burned into his brain. But it wasn’t the dream that startled him out of his sleep.

He hears Billy yelling, his instinct reaching for the bat at his side before it suddenly swoops out of view and a figure blocks his exit. When he turns his head to the looming shadow, his breath hitches, leaning back against the desk.

He wasn’t particularly fond of being greeted with a spear to his face.

It was held by someone in a mask, a brief flashback to his time in the tunnels suddenly thrown into his mind. The air, the kids had expressed. That was before any of them knew it wasn’t toxic. He took a quick glance to his side, noting the person currently pointing a matching spear at Billy, too, his shotgun kicked far out of his reach.

It was two against two. They could take them.

The door from the study opens and two more people walk out, discussing something under their breaths. His heart drops, jaw clenched in silent desperation. Fuck. He should have known nothing was ever easy.

When the others get closer, a new reason for his despair came to light, eyebrows furrowed when one of the voices droned on and on about their ‘key observation’.

He recognised that voice.

“Holy shit.” They laugh, pulling off their mask. Steve feels his stomach twist. “As I live and breathe, is that you, Harrington?”

Steve blinks. “Tommy?”

Lo and behold, Tommy Hagan stood in front of Steve with that bastard smile on his face and a dim light in his eyes. His hair had grown out to now brush against his shoulders, a faint smudge of dirt outlining where his goggles had been resting against his face. His clothes weren’t unusual to his high school attire, but it was covered in grime and faint smudges of blood. It was very clear that he had, much to Steve’s silent disappointment, survived the apocalypse. And he wasn’t alone.

“Wait, did you say Harrington?” The person beside him questions, head recoiling. It was a girl’s voice, sweet enough but hoarse around the edges, as if she hadn’t been drinking enough water. She turns her head to Steve before pausing. “You said he died.”

“He did!” Tommy exclaims, but the girl simply extends her arm in his direction as evidence that he was, in fact, not dead. “Okay, so I thought he died. Not my fault I got bad intel.”

The girl sighs, ready to argue.

“Oh my god, who cares if he’s dead or not, what the hell are we gonna do?” Another female voice, this time it sounded a little more mature. She currently had her spear pointed at Billy’s chest, the boy’s face twisting with some sort of humiliation at the realisation a girl had managed to disarm him. “And for fuck’s sake, put your mask back on, do you want to get ill?!”

“The air’s safe.” Steve finds himself speaking, all heads turning to him. “I mean, it’s not natural at all but it doesn’t make you sick. Getting bit makes you sick, is what I mean. If you’re, uh, talking about getting infected and stuff.”

“Are we really going to stand here all day?” She turns to the last person in the room, ignoring Steve and waiting for an answer.

This person had their spear hovering in front of Steve’s face, the pole shaking slightly as if they had never done this before. He doesn’t suppose they would have; they were just regular teens in a small town before the apocalypse started. Everyone had to adapt.

“I say we just spear them and get the hell out of here.” Tommy suggests and the girl beside him gasps. Steve, however, wasn’t so surprised. “What?”

“We can’t kill them. We’ve never killed anyone.”

“Fine, let’s just knock them out.”

“Shut up, Tommy, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” The other girl chimes in, and Steve could almost laugh. Even in an end of world situation, nobody wanted to be around Tommy H.

“I don’t-” Tommy huffs, shaking his head. “Who the hell saved you from a demon attack, huh?”

“And who got you new clothes when you shit yourself from the demon attack?” She retorts, the last words Steve manages to catch before they’re in a full blown argument.

“Hey!”

The person in front of him finally spoke, lowering their spear and stepping back. A male voice had ordered from behind the mask and, as he turned to his friends, Steve noticed a few stray curls peaking out from the collar of his jacket.

“No one is killing anyone, and we’re definitely not leaving them here.” He says, and the others seem to listen. He was their leader, Steve realised, and his word seemed to be final. The boy turns to him, tilting his head. “Are you serious about the air? It’s not lethal?”

“I wouldn’t be alive if it was.” Steve replies, and the boy sighs. He nods to the others, and they all lower their weapons.

“Sorry about this, we thought you were here to steal our stuff.” The boy apologises.

“I’m guessing you’re the ones that raided the store.” Steve says, accepting the hand extended to him and pulls himself back onto his feet.

“We gotta eat.” Tommy states, turning his head and widening his eyes. “Woah, Billy-boy! I almost didn’t recognise you, what with the whole being beaten by a girl thing.”

“Shut it.” Billy snaps, and the girl in question laughs.

“If it helps, you didn’t make it easy.” She offers before reaching behind her head to untie her mask, letting it fall into her hand and pushing her goggles to her head. “I’m Heather, by the way. I think we’ve met.”

Billy’s eyebrow raises, but he simply nods, walking over to retrieve his shotgun before any more of his dignity left.

“That’s Chrissy.” Heather introduces the other girl, her mask and goggles also secured around her neck now. Steve thinks he saw her in school before, but she was definitely younger, her wide eyes holding an innocence Steve hadn’t had for a long time.

The boy beside him also strips himself of his face coverings, resting the goggles in his messy mane of curled brown hair and smirking at the surprised look on Steve’s face. He throws his spear into his other hand, extending his free glove as an introduction that Steve most certainly didn’t need.

“And I’m Eddie.” He grins, relishing the reveal. “Although, you already knew that. Right, King Steve?”

Chapter Twenty One: Friends Or Foes, Part II coming soon...

[A/N: *once again in an aloneinthehellfire fic, eddie munson enters the arena*]

taglist: @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady . @pansexualhoor .

@kitdjarin1 . @chiliwhore .

[biolumien]

Hello :)

It says your requests are open, and I wanted to know if maybe you could possibly write something for Reno from Kaiju#8. Maybe something really sweet and fluffy?? If not, that's totally fine, I just really like your writing style and would love some more of him 😊

notes: as per usual my writing took on a life of its own... i hope its still what you were looking for!

target practice

reno ichikawa x gn!reader description of just general gun anxiety. word count: 1018

you were never big on the competitive streak that all the other recruits seemed to have when it came to standard practice training. you watched on as iharu and reno fussed over their times down to the millisecond, alongside kaguragi and haruichi, before kikoru would obliterate all of their times anyway. there was also kafka, who was still struggling to maintain a sub-five-minute time on the training course, but he seemed good-natured about it all, despite his 1% compatibility rate with his suit.

to tell the truth, you were quite honestly terrified of wielding guns in general. you had decent compatibility with guns and decent compatibility with blades, too–nothing incredible, but not so bad that you’d fall behind. it’s just that your accuracy was completely off no matter what. firing blank was fine–anyone could do that. you were often even praised for how steady your hand was–but as soon as the ammo was loaded into the gun, it was like your mind would go blank, and you were reduced to a quivering, shaking mess unable to line up your reticle with the target, not to mention how badly you reacted to the recoil.

if kafka stayed at a steady five to six minute clear time for his training, you were at a solid seven to eight minutes–up to ten, depending on how badly you couldn’t recover from raising your gun. 

you look down at the rifle splayed across your lap.

you wanted to become stronger. reno, iharu, and the rest of them only kept getting stronger. you didn’t want to be left behind in the dust.

“you’re up,” hoshina says to you from his lofty perch above you all. “whenever you’re ready.”

you stand up, aware of everyone’s eyes on you. you swallow, your hands shaking as you raise your rifle to shoulder level. your heart pounds in your throat, and your fingers fumble as you load an ammo catrtridge into the gun, pulling the safety. you grit your teeth, trying to get the shaking to stop, but you almost drop the gun in the process, and you fly back, your limbs feeling weak.

“your vitals are showing an elevated heart rate,” hoshina says. “you can sit out of this today if you don’t want to–”

“no,” you protest. “i have to. i have to do this!”

“not if you pass out,” hoshina says, his voice sympathetic. “i get it, you know–i–”

“no, this is just–this is something wrong with me!” you protest. “i just–i keep–” you lower your gun, hating the way you already feel more relieved now that the gun has been lowered. “i can’t… i need to do this. i–” you raise a hand to your eyes, squeezing tightly. why couldn’t you just pull the fucking trigger?

“here. like this.”

you startle as reno walks up to you. behind him, iharu’s eyes are wide as haruichi and kaguragi are still arguing over something. kafka’s eyes are curiously staring at reno, too, but reno seems confident enough as he strolls over.

“i can help,” reno says. “if you’ll let me.”

“i… sure,” you say. 

reno’s hand crosses the distance and presses against yours, guiding your grip over the gun. your heart pounds in your chest again, but for a much different reason other than terror this time. reno was–just really warm. 

“don’t pull,” reno says softly, his violet eyes meeting yours. “squeeze. press the gun close to your chest, tight, like this.” he shifts his other hand, letting the gun press firmly into your elbow. your face flushes a bit as he maneuvers your body with deft hands. “it’ll help with the recoil. i notice you never brace yourself like this. so it’ll help. you’ve seen the training course many times already. don’t move your arms so much, that’s how you’ll tire yourself out. lead with your shoulder.”

as you raise the gun this time, you swallow, finding that your heart is already beginning to pound less.

“thank you, reno,” you say, smiling at him. 

reno’s face goes pink, and he raises his hand to his mouth, a short laugh leaving his lips.

“i… you don’t need to–” “alright, lovebirds, pack that up,” hoshina calls. “if you’re ready to start, then head to the start of the course.” 

reno stumbles backwards a bit out of surprise, and you stare up at where hoshina’s looking down at you all. his gaze is unreadable as usual, a small smile on his lips.

this time, your score is closer to kafka’s. you still startle when you pull the trigger, but this time you’re able to calm down, line up your sight with the targets, and hit them with decent accuracy. you think feel reno’s subtle grip against your hands, guiding your gun–but that was just a fleeting, silly thought.

“you did it!” reno says, standing up as you make your way back. “i knew you could do it.” he seemed to want to step forward in a move to hug you, or something–anything, but instead his hands dangled awkwardly in mid-air for a moment. 

“thanks to you,” you say sheepishly, feeling your face heat up again. you step forward, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, slotting yourself neatly against his body. “really. thank you so much, reno.”

reno stammers for a second, his hands shifting to settle around your waist.

“you don’t need to–thank me,” reno says. “i… you’re amazing.”

that seemed to bear a little more sincerity than any of his other words, and you laugh, feeling warm. 

“thanks,” you say. reno seemed to hold you a little tighter after that, bringing you closer.

“hey, you two.”

you immediately fly back from reno as iharu spoke up.

“the two of you are fucking gross!” he shouts.

reno sputters.

“hey–fuck you, actually!” reno exclaims. “we were having a moment!”

“what the fuck did you just say to me?” iharu shouts. “have your moment somewhere else! don’t just do it out here! you’re so fucking cringe–!”

“oh, like you’re one to talk–”

you watch fondly on as reno and iharu start arguing, a curling warmth in your chest.

[littlenahsstuff]

Can you plz do a Bridget x reader??? Perhaps super fluffy. Like a sunshine x grumpy trope?

Without baking soda

Bridget x reader.

You are making something for Bridget and suck at it but she can’t refuse you.

Warnings: not proofread! Sorry this is so short!

Word count: ~800 words

~~~~~

Bridget was the best at almost anything she set her mind to, baking, baking was where she really could shine. Y/n didn’t know why out of all the ways to be a supportive girlfriend, she chose Bridget’s thing. She would just huff and say it was more personal. That she wanted to prove to Bridget she could do more than-

“Sit there and look pretty.”

Of course Bridget didn’t mean it, that Y/n couldn’t, but she still wanted to be a help. So, to prove that, Y/n would make muffins. They didn’t require any fancy filling or frosting and she always saw her mom making them when she was younger, it looked easy!

“Add… what’s a tsp?” She muttered to herself. She needed to add salt. She stood there for about five minutes trying to figure out what the cookbook people meant. She was about to give up at the start when she remembered the tiny tools also had labels on them for the amounts. So far she had sugar and flour, maybe too much of each but those required the bigger tiny tools. She quickly went onto the next thing… baking powder. Again using the tsp spoon thing.

You’d think she would’ve remembered from all her times watching Bridget bake but then again, all she was doing while Bridget was baking was gaze lovingly at her girlfriend’s face.

Okay then, “baking soda?” She puzzled. “Wait but what the hell’s the difference?” Y/n, prior to baking had gotten all of her supplies ready… except she forgot the baking soda.

“Is it like- baking powder and soda maybe, I don’t remember seeing anything…” Y/n glanced at her drink…a ginger ale. “No… it couldn’t be…” she got the brilliant idea, just a splash of soda in baking powder aught to make baking soda.

So she put just a dabble of ginger ale in her baking powder. It started bubbling but stopped.

“Perfect!” She said. Y/n went through the rest of the directions practically perfectly. the oven was the right temperature, she was extra careful with the butter and oil. She was doing great. She thought so too… until they came out of the oven rock solid. They still were delicious, but far too crunchy for anyone’s liking.

Nevertheless, she wanted to give them to Bridget, how much she wanted to changed.

She went on her grumpy little way to Bridget’s dorm, each step making her rethink the whole thing. Poor thing shook the whole way.

She knocked on the door. Bridget had said she didn’t have to, but it was always a safe measure.

“Come in!” The door creaks open and closed. Bridget gets up off of her bed and skips over to you, her arms wrap around you.

“Hi there,” you say. Your cheeks heating up.

“Hi!” She looks down. “Ooh what are these?” She points to the covered tray. You shrug.

“Um, just something I made for you” Y/n mumble, looking away. Bridget smiles and squeals.

She’s practically buzzing, “oh my, for me?” Y/n coughs, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand.

“Well… don’t get too excited, they’re not the prettiest. And um, I didn’t try them.” She laughs bitterly. Bridget smile softens. She takes the tray from you.

She unwraps them and while her frown doesn’t falter, the baker-in-the-making sees a small twitch in her eye.

“Nonsense love, these look edible.” Bridget pries one out of the tin and holds it in her hand. “This looks delightful even.” You scoff.

“No need to sugarcoat. I know it’s not that good. But even if you hate them could you try it please?” Y/n’s voice is soft. She tried not to wince as she takes a second look at the muffin.

“I was planning on eating it anyways” she rebuts, biting into the baked good with a crunch. She powers through the chew. Y/n is trying not to show she cares, when in reality, she is on the edge of her proverbial seat.

Bridget swallows and hums, “there’s a certain taste to it, but I can’t place my finger on it. It’s like lemony almost. The texture is certainly interesting, but it’s no different than snacking on a pretzel. It’s still lovely my heart.” Y/n’s shoulders relax as she huffs out a relieved sigh.

“Glad to hear, um yeah that’s ginger ale… it’s uh… an improvisation.” Y/n shyly rocks back and forth.

Bridget sets the rest of the tray down and pulls Y/n if for another hug. The heat returns immediately as Bridget thanks you.

“This was a lovely surprise thank you.” Y/n shrugs in her arms.

“Yeah no problem, I definitely need more practice. Surprised you didn’t chip a tooth.” She grumbles but smiles softly after. Overall she’s just grateful Bridget liked the effort. She squeezes Bridget once more before pulling apart.

“Harder har, no of course not. Anyways, to show you how grateful I am, why don’t we go cuddle my love?” Y/n nods. She’d never verbally admit it, but being held and holding Bridget was her most favorite thing in the world.

[sandwitchstories]

Five Seconds

Annnnnnd I'm back with more Kyojuro Rengoku smut!

I realized recently that I do not see a lot of representation in fan fiction (and fiction in general) for AFAB people who need lube for sex to be enjoyable, including in my own writing. So, I decided I needed to fix that and this was the perfect story. Be part of the change you wish to see, right?

If you prefer to read it on AO3 please click here !

Summary: Y/N and her boyfriend, Kyojuro Rengoku, return home after having had a disagreement. While not yet ready to wave her white flag, Y/N knows she needs to do something to defuse the situation. She goes with the first thought that pops into her head and while unconventional, it does the trick. Annnnd then some.

WC: 3300+

CW: MDNI, AFAB Reader, AFAB terms used to describe the sexy bits, SMUT, lube, teacher Rengoku, dom/sub undertones, oral (f!receiving), brat taming (kinda?), face sitting, spanking, Vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, smut with feels, doggy style, NOT canon, and more. Check on AO3 for a full list

Divider by: @steviebbboi

Y/N grit her teeth as she got out of her boyfriend’s car in the parking space in front of their townhouse. The whole ride home had been tense due her and Kyojuro having had a disagreement. It was very rare for them to argue and honestly, this fight was over a truly trivial matter... 

Honestly, he was not fully wrong. It was a matter of different perspectives. But she was still not ready to raise her white flag out of spite as he was still on one about it. Y/N sighed as she acknowledged to herself that she needed to figure out a way to diffuse the flames of purgatory that had been unleashed.

She tuned out Kyojuro as he picked up his pace to keep up with her after shutting his door more forcefully than was needed, but still not quite slamming it. She unlocked the door, and opened it. Not giving in to the temptation to grab the handle and ‘close’ it behind her. Kyojuro had ridiculously fast reflexes and would catch it with absolutely zero effort. And it probably would not help the situation

She kicked off her flip flops and headed into the house. Kyojuro shut and locked the door behind him before kneeling to untie his shoes. An idea suddenly popped into her mind of how to end this whole thing quickly and put the adrenaline from the disagreement to a better use. She had never tried it before but maybe it would work…

“Kyojuro!” She said his name firmly so he paused mid action, looking up at her with a scowl on his handsome face.

“What?!”

She yanked up her shirt and bra, exposing her breasts to him. He froze solid. She watched his eyes instantly change from anger to desire as his gaze shot down from her face.

He began to hurriedly untie his shoes before giving up and standing up to yank them off. “You have 5 seconds.”

“For what?” Y/N asked, still holding up her shirt.

“A head start.”

Y/N laughed as Kyojuro tried to hurry his shoe removal and it got stuck, making him kinda hop on one foot for a minute before he got it to move. She yanked down her top and took off running to their bedroom, giggling as she heard his heavy steps coming after her. He caught up when she was just through the entryway. She turned towards him only to have her face yanked into a passionate kiss. He bent his knees and lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, before quickly laying them down on the bed.

His hands moved quickly,  one shoved under her top and bra, squeezing her breast before pinching and pulling on her nipple until she moaned into his mouth, her hips instantly beginning to rock against him. His other hand cupped her face as he deepened the kiss. His hand slid down to her nape, cupping the back of her head.

“Are we okay?” She asked as he broke the kiss when they both needed more oxygen than their noses could offer. She knew they were but some little part of her still needed that reassurance from him. Needed to know he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Always,” he told her. His hand left her breast, shirt and bra still pulled on to her upper chest. He cupped her other cheek, his thumb running across her bottom lip. “We will always be okay. No matter how bad the fight. Because I love you and you love me.”

“I do, I do love you. So much,” she said, hands cupping his face and bringing him down into another scorching kiss, moaning into his mouth as he pressed his hard cock against her center.

He broke the kiss, looking down and thumbing her bottom lip again, watching it spring under his movement. “However! There is the matter of you being a brat that still needs to be addressed. Your incredible breasts indeed did work their magic but there is still a lesson to be learned.”

“Oh yeah?” She asked, smirking up at him and leaning forward to nip his lower lip, pulling on it before letting it go. She moved her head and spoke softly in his ear before she gave a quick suck and nip to his lobe. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Give you one hell of an attitude adjustment.” He kissed her passionately before abruptly pulling back to help her rid herself of her shirt and bra before capturing her lips in a rough kiss.

Kyojuro's hands grabbed hers, pinning them above her head with one large hand.  His free hand stabilized her breast as he dipped his head to latch on one of her nipples, sucking hard and pulling on it until she cried out loudly. As he alternated breasts, his hands moved to undo her jeans. He released her nipple before sitting back. He gripped onto her jeans. Y/N lifted her hips so he could yank the material down roughly, tossing the clothes behind him. “Fours. Now.”

She did what he directed, moaning the second he covered her body with his. The material of his clothes rubbed against her sensitive bare skin, making her shiver. His hands latched on to her hips with his fingers holding her in a bruising grip as his mouth claimed her neck and shoulders, sucking marks into her flesh as he went. 

He suddenly detached, moving one hand to press her head down gently but firmly to the mattress before he moved to be sitting on his knees behind her. His hands gripped and squeezed the fat of her ass. He spread her cheeks to give himself a better view, his hungry eyes  taking in the view from that sexy arch in her back, the swell of her ass and then focusing fully on her shiny slit, just begging for his cock, clenching around nothing. He licked his lips and moved his hands to be able to spread her pussy open with his thumbs, tracing them up and down her lips in a feather light touch.

He withdrew his hands before he gave her butt cheek a firm slap making her squawk in shock. He did it two more times, listening to the sultry moan she let out while watching the fat of her ass recoil from the contact. He leaned forward and nipped the same tender cheek he had just smacked. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” He asked, grazing the pads of his fingers up and down over her pussy again, just close enough to tease her slit where he knew she was dying to be touched. Boundaries between them had long ago been set, but he still checked in with her to make sure she was good. 

“What lesson? That being a brat will get me the rough treatment? Oh, I sure have, Mr. Rengoku. Lesson learned: be a brat more often!” 

Apparently she wants more… That’s one way to get it… Little shit. His cock throbbed in his pants.

“Don't move.” He took the bait, already having been hooked on the line the second she had flashed her breasts at him. He moved across the bed quickly and grabbed the small bottle of lube from his night stand drawer. 

His woman struggled with maintaining lubrication no matter how turned on and begging for his cock she was. Rather than making her ask for it, he kept it close and kept her cunt nice and lubed up. Pleasure was the only thing he ever wanted her to feel during these moments.

He tossed it on the bed as he stood behind her taking in the sight of her pert ass, and her pretty pink pussy spread open, just waiting for him. He palmed his still covered cock as his eyes hungrily roamed over her body.  

“Head up.” He leaned forward, grabbing onto her hips and yanking her to the edge of the bed before he sat on the floor tilting his head back against the mattress.

Y/N followed his instructions, allowing him to maneuver and position her so that her cunt now hovered right above his face. She had barely gotten her hands in a comfortable position on the bed before he was pulling her down onto his mouth and began feasting on her cunt. 

She cried out in pleasure as he licked her slit from the clit back to swirl around and tease the entrance of her hole, then back again to circle her tender pearl. The flat of his wide tongue felt incredible as he lapped at her folds, making her core flutter and clench on every pass. 

He smirked against her, his tongue traveling that same route several more times. His fingers dug into her hips as he pulled her even closer. This time when his tongue circled her hole he finally thrust it inside. 

He closed his eyes and moaned at the taste of her as he fucked her with his mouth. He thrust his tongue into her hole several times before he lifted her slightly and replaced his tongue with two fingers. He watched his fingers fucking into her hole above his head several times before he moved his mouth to focus on lapping and sucking at her clit.

“Kyojuro!” Y/N cried out his name. 

Her legs began shaking as her orgasm approached. All of her muscles tensed in expectation. The flutters spread throughout her veins. At the very cusp of her crescendo Kyojuro remembered he was supposed to be taming his beloved shrew and pulled away. 

He chuckled at her sound of distress before nipping her inner thigh playfully and moving to stand. He leaned over her, burying his hand in her hair and pulling her head back to kiss her passionately. 

Kyojuro broke the kiss and repositioned her to again be face down and ass up before he stood fully up. He ran his fingers up and down her overly sensitive folds as he dribbled the lube onto her spread cunt. He bit his lip as he watched his fingers working it into her hole and all along her slit thoroughly. He took advantage of the situation and edged her yet again as he got her ready for him. 

“You're so mean!” she glared at him from where her head was still flat to the mattress like she knew he wanted. 

“You brought this on yourself,” he reminded her. “Scoot forward a bit.”

He quickly undressed, grateful to free his cock and balls from their cotton prison.  His cock was so hard it hurt and could no longer be ignored. He knelt on the bed directly behind her and grabbed his cock with his lubed hand. He stroked it several times before he ran the swollen tip up and down her lubed slit, biting his lip and moaning softly at the incredible feeling. 

She wailed in pleasure as he impaled himself in balls deep on the first stroke, as soon as his cock caught on her hole. She instantly began pushing back on him, finally getting part of what she wanted. High thick, hard length felt so good inside of her. She wanted… no needed more…“Oh gods! Yes! So full! ”

“Oh… fuck, Y/N…” He rasped out her name as his eyes fluttered and he groaned at the feeling of finally being inside her tight, hot cunt. 

His fingers held her still and he stayed motionless for a moment, giving her a chance to adjust and him to savor the feeling of her enveloping him. It did not take him long to give in to what he knew they both wanted. He braced a foot on the bed beside her, giving himself an angle to go even deeper inside of her. His hands latched onto those perfect hips in a grip guaranteed to bruise and began fucking into her in earnest. 

She cried out, fingers tangling in the sheets, searching for anything to lock her into place as he pounded into her cunt. It felt so good. All of it. His cock splitting her and stretching her as it dragged in her gummy walls. The thump and sensation of him going as deep as she could take him on every single thrust. She mewled as he filled her over and over again.

“Oh, so now you’ve got nothing to say?” Kyojuro teased, slowing his strokes just a bit so he had more freedom to move. He leaned forward, burying his hands in her hair, like he knew she loved, and pulling her head up in a firm grip. He needed more from her. He wanted to hear her getting drunk on his cock. “Come on, Y/N. Let me hear you.”

He moved a hand under her thigh, two fingers taking up residence on either side of her clit. As he sped up his thrusts again he began to move his fingers on her clit at the same pace. Those long sinful fingers of his pinched, rolled and circled around the over sensitive bead.

Desperate, filthy sounds sprinkled with curses spilled out of her mouth. Her muscles began to tense and her pussy began to tighten on his cock. 

“That’s it! That’s my mouthy girl! Knows exactly what I want…”

He hit that special spot inside her and she cried out. “There, baby, there!”

His hand released her hair, moving to rest on her throat as he pounded into her from behind and his fingers worked her clit so well. He knew just what she liked. She was about to start begging to finish when Kyojuro spoke in a firm but winded tone. “Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock.”

He increased his speed and tightened his hand just slightly over her throat. She called his name as she came, her pussy fluttering and pulsing on his cock, getting slicker and sloppier by the second. The squelching noise of the lube somehow sounded filthier now knowing her cream was mixed in.

The hand on her throat moved under her to bring her more up right so her back was pressed against his front. Her head fell back on to his shoulder as his large hand took up residence splayed between her breasts. He lowered his hips closer to the bed so that now she was basically sitting on his lap. He resumed thrusting, beginning to piston his cock up into her cunt at a harsh speed. 

Y/N shook from over sensitivity that bordered on pain but felt so fucking good. She whined loudly as he kept abusing that spot and kept rubbing her clit. Her nails dug into his thighs where they were braced. Her hips writhed in pleasure on top of him as she kept fucking herself back onto his cock, meeting every thrust, riding him just as hard as he was fucking her even as she whined, their sweat slicked skin sliding easily against each other. “It’s too much!” 

“Give me one more, my flame. I know you can do it,” he said, mouthing her neck and shoulder as he continue to fuck up into her hot tight core. 

His fingers at her clit switched from circles and strokes to a swaying motion. He applied more pressure to her clit as his fingers moved faster back and forth on the bundle of nerves. Her next orgasm came on suddenly, fast and almost violently. She keened loudly in his arms as she was pulled into the vortex. Her hand quickly moved to rest on the forearm of the hand between her legs as she threw her head back farther in ecstacy.

He immediately moved the hand away at her tap out sign, instead curling both of his arms under her to grip onto her breasts. One of her hands came to rest on his nape, holding his face in the crook of her neck. His thrusts slowed to languid movements, drawing out her pleasure as long as he could, letting her ride out her high on his cock. Her movements against him were getting slower, shakier.

“Cum for me, Kyojuro, please. I want you to fill me up.” Her voice was breathy as she turned her head and pulled him into a messy kiss. “I need it.”

“Tell me how you want it,” he said, mouthing her neck right below her ear. He spoke in husky tones. “Tell me how you want me to fuck my cum into you.”

She clenched on his cock at his dirty talk. “I want to see your face.”

“Lay down,” he said, helping her change positions and moving to kneel between her thighs, his cock still painfully hard. 

He coated his cock in lube again before grabbing onto her hips and pulling her closer so she was nestled against his lap. He pressed her thighs back, spreading her open fully and placing his cock between her slick pussy lips, sliding it up and down her sensitive slit. He closed his eyes,  pressed his lips together and groaned.

Y/N moved her hand between them and guided him to her center. She kept her hand there, her fingers spread in a V as she felt him press into her fully. She held his gaze as she kept her hand there as his hands gripped the backs of her thighs and he began to thrust.

“You feel so good,” he told her, leaning down to kiss her.

His hands found hers and he moved them up above her head, locking their fingers together as his thrusts built up speed. Soon he was bracing on his palms with her knees against the bed, hips rolled back as far as they could go and fucking down into her used cunt with abandon.

“Fuck! Gods!” She cried out, her hands moving to his shoulders to drag her nails down his back in pleasure. “You give it to me so good, baby!”

He let out what almost sounded like a whimper at her words, throbbing inside of her silken walls. His thrusts were getting sloppier, falling out of time. “Close, I’m so close!”

“Give it to me, Kyo, you know it’s what I want,” she said, hands moving to frame his face as he thrust against her. She kissed him passionately, before pulling back, still cupping his face. “Cum for me, please. I’m begging for it, Kyo.”

Her words absolutely destroyed him just as she intended. His cock rammed into her harder as he chased his high until he roared out her name, filling her up just like she begged for. He thrust against her, slowing and going until fully spent. 

Kyojuro rested back on his legs, slowly pulling out and watching his cum dribble out of her for a moment before he turned his gaze back to Y/N’s face. She laid against their pillows in a haze of exhaustion that only comes from a good fucking, with a smile on her lips, a sheen of sweat covering her skin. 

He grinned and leaned down over her, bracing on his palms and pressing a few gentle kisses to her lips. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“Yes, but not the lesson you intended,” she said with a laugh, she reached up and pulled loose the tie in his ponytail, running her fingers through his fiery hair as it fell around his face. 

“Oh?” he asked, arching a brow at her. “Then what lesson did you learn?”

“That flashing you in the middle of an argument not only ends the argument but gets me fucked stupid.”

He laughed, kissing her again before plopping down next to her and pulling her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and smiled at the ceiling in contentment. He couldn't deny that what she said was true. “Well, at least you learned something.”