#So there will be bumps here and there but I think they can do it.

[bbokicidal]

Not a Need, but a Craving | Loser!Perv!SKZ

Warnings: Chris is lowkey a creep here lol, Perverted behavior; Panty stealing, slapping of tits/ass/face, hair pulling, up-the-skirt pics, one-sided masturbation, meandom?Jeongin Pairing: OT8 [individual] x Fem-implied!Reader Genre: Suggestive but not smut (well.. sort of. 18+) Notes: Based loosely off of this perv!skz post I did a while ago. <- read this first!

방찬

Relation: Trainees

❥ Chris tells himself he'll delete these pictures every time he takes them, but he always ends up adding them to the the album specifically curated towards you and your -- well, the panties he deemed so cute and so sexy, enough so that he needed the pictures on his phone or he'd die. It was the only thing that he could get off to at this point; Women just didn't ever seem to want to come home with him so he could actually get some pussy, so...

❥ He's almost... proud of himself with how slick he's gotten; Taking pictures up your dress at the club when you're dancing against him, sneaking a photo or two up your skirt on the train while you wait to get off, or even up your nightgown when you're in the kitchen making breakfast for him after he stayed the night because the ride home was hours long and you had too big of a heart to let him go so late in the night.

❥ And of course he knows you can never find out. You're pretty, popular amongst the trainees and he's -- yeah, he's been there a long chunk of time but he doesn't have a ton friends or go out with people like you do. If you found out, if anyone found out, he'd be kicked out of the company and he'd never see you - or your pretty pussy and cute lacy panties - ever again...

리노

Relation: College students

❥ Minho is always touching you. When he can, at least.

❥ It started all because you sat next to him when studying. He was there to help you, but you insisted on moving closer to look at the textbook he was gesturing to and the moment your thigh brushed against his own it was all over for him. He'd tensed up and choked on every word that tried to leave his throat, ears bright pink. He could even smell your perfume from where he sat.

❥ He knew almost immediately he needed more, so as he came over more often to help you with classwork - because that's all he was to you, a tutor - he would let you sit close or even ask you to come sit beside him instead of across the table so he could have you right there. He would think about it later, too; The way your hand lingered on his arm when you patted it and bid him goodbye that evening, the way your fingertips brushed over his own as you eyed the textbook together.

❥ Maybe he was a bigger loser than he thought, getting off just from the simple touch of a pretty girl he shares a class with. (Not that he'd ever admit to you that sometimes he comes in his pants when your thighs touch his own under the table...)

창빈

Relation: Gym buddies

❥ Changbin was... still shameless.

❥ But even less so, now. He'd begun asking you to come to the gym with him all three times of the week he went - his schedule a bit busier than normal these days - and every single time he would go home and right away hop in the shower to tug on his cock.

❥ He'd started doing this... thing. He swore it was so that at the end of the year, you could create a video that showed your progress over every day you spent together at the gym working hard - but really, Changbin took photos of you two together at the end of your workouts just so he could use them while he got off later that evening. The sight of your hair all messy, you in slightly damp workout leggings and a sports bra, skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat...

❥ He knew it was a little gross, using your body to get off like that. Especially when you were sweaty in all of the pictures - But he preferred it that way. He could hear your heavy breathing in his ears even hours after you'd parted ways, the way your chest bumped his arm as he flexed and you held up a playful peace sign and smile. Call him gross all you want - He knew what he liked, and what he liked was you.

현진

Relation: Friend of a friend

❥ The collection was growing day by day and Hyunjin was getting more and more bold with every move he made. He never got the real thing because girls just weren't interested in him with his long hair, glasses, and pretty round eyes; so this was the best he'd get.

❥ He'd started sleeping over more often, using Felix as a reason to even be there in the first place. You two were close, he was close with the Australian - so he was automatically invited too, right? Right! And when he was over at your house and you were distracted playing a game with Felix, well - what was Hyunjin to do but go through your drawers and find something to take home with him?

❥ He's got favorites, of course. Anything pink is by far at the top of his 'I want this' list, stealing a lacy pair the first time he came over - then two more pair, one set seamless and the other covered in cherries, the next time he visited. Luckily for you, he doesn't stay the night at your place too often, or you'd be running out of underwear constantly with how he's stealing them left and right.

❥ But Hyunjin swears he's seen you stealing glances at him here and there, so... maybe if you knew he was using them to jerk himself off every night or sleeping with them curled up near his face so he could rest with your scent right beside him, you'd be more open to just handing him a pair to keep.

❥ It's only a matter of time before he starts taking the used ones.

한

Relation: College Roommates

❥ Jisung can't help the way he's just so... submissive? Around you?

❥ Let me explain. Jisung's developed a real bad habit of acting like he needs help from you when you're around because if he needs help, you'll touch him. He'll eat messier than normal so you'll wipe his lips clean for him - and yes, he'll practically come in his pants at the feeling of your thumb so close to slipping in his mouth - or he'll almost act as if he doesn't know how to do something so you'll hold his hands while you explain or hold onto him as you help him learn how to do something. Even if he's just faking being a bit of a himbo so you'll help him.

❥ And one of the reasons he gets away with this ^ so easily? Is because he's a known loser around campus and he's constantly teased for it. And you..? Well, you're the pretty girl who takes pity on him.

❥ His favorite is when you come to check on him at night or peek in to see if he's sleeping before you shower. He'll hum out that his head hurts or that his back aches from training all day or working out - and you'll comb his hair through your fingers or rub your hands down his back until he's falling asleep under your touch. And while, yes, it does help him sleep in the long run - it also makes him rock hard. The moment you leave the room after he 'falls asleep' he's rutting his hips down against the mattress and whimpering your name into his pillow.

필릭스

Relation: Best friend's brother

❥ Felix is affectionate with everyone he's close to. But you -- you're beautiful, and soft, and your tits are just so...

❥ Call him a loser if you want - he knows it's what he is. A desperate, shy, sweet angel who's booksmart and tries way too hard to be cool, who hangs around the pretty, popular girl because she's his sister's best friend. Just the precious little brother who sees that gorgeous girl once or twice a week at his home and takes it as an opportunity to hang around her; Hugging onto you, burying his face in your neck, cuddling up close during movies.

❥ And you let him cling to you because 1) He's hot, and 2) You know it's the only touch from a woman he'll ever get. And you suppose you don't mind the way his hands wander over your body when he swears he's just cuddling close and getting comfortable. You're pretty sure he doesn't realize you know he's feeling you up and groping every curve of your body, but. Ignorance is bliss.~

승민

Relation:

❥ It starts as an accident.

❥ Seungmin's hand caught in your hair when he laid it on your back and as he pulled away, his ring caught and pulled. He'd moved away so fast it had been enough to make your head lull back, a gasp and yell of pain and laughter falling from your lips as you reach to push his arm away.

❥ And Seungmin... -- God. He's weak in the knees. He spots the way your mouth falls open, your nose crinkles and eyes close at the feeling of your hair being pulled. And he knows in that moment that he needs to see you like that again.

❥ So he does it as a joke; subtle and cautious about it at first. You'll play fight or bicker about anything and Seungmin will pull your hair, fingers fisted tight in the strands until his hand was so close to your scalp that he had full control of your head. On one instance he had pulled you close until his face was inches from yours, cocking a brow and listening to you whine about how tight he was holding onto your hair - and another, you'd dropped forward into his lap in laughter while he was still holding onto you and he swore he almost shot a load in his boxers. That was the closest a woman had ever been to his hips - And if you didn't feel the way his cock twitched against the side of your face, it would've been a miracle.

아이엔

Relation: Close friends

❥ Jeongin loves being a little mean to you because you're the only woman in his life who will let him get away with it.

❥ You're one of his closest friends, even if he's kind of lame and everyone looks down on him for being the youngest in his group - and you're the one who openly bickers with him, teases him, and he does it all back to you and you take it, which surprises him a little bit. You let him pull on you and wrestle with you or cling to you when he's tired, even if he's all sweaty and gross. But sometimes the wrestling or bickering turns to pushing and pulling on each other until you're both on the floor and he's holding you down while you're kicking to be free.

❥ The first time he spanks you, all he remembers is the way you cry out and feeling of your ass against his palm. He plays it off by laughing because that's what you do, completely disregarding it and brushing it off before spanking him as well in retaliation - and he lets it happen. Not because he's into it, but because he's too distracted with trying to figure out how to hide the fact that he's so hard it hurts.

❥ He's going to need more of that feeling in the future. He knows he does - so he does it again to test the waters and when you, once again, laugh at it and take it as play-fighting, he dares to go further. These days the two of you are always slapping at each other's arms and thighs and ass - but if he's feeling really bold he'll slap your tits and sometimes, your face. Gently, of course, little taps here and there when it comes to your cheeks. And each time you take it in stride with giggles and slapping him in return, while he gets off to it later that evening in the bathroom stall after practice, remembering the way you feel under his palms when he spanks you.

❥ And that's how Jeongin discovered his impact play kink.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek @felixleftchickennugget @byeon-bae

[snoopychris]

introducing… dad’s best friend!chris x reader

warnings: unprotected p in v (DO. NOT. DO. THIS.), no use of y/n, reader has daddy issues, chris is 33 and has a daddy kink, a little dirty talk, dumbification if you squint. oh and also dad!chris.

“so you have kids? you look like one yourself but… maybe i’m just flattering you. but you gotta be at least 18 to be at the airport alone and you’ve got a vertical ID so you’re at least 21.” the bartender speaks, continuing to shake your drink all around.

you chuckle and shake your head, leaning your chin further into your chin. “no i don’t. i’m 23 though…i should probably get on that or something. i don’t even got a boyfriend… just visiting my dad and his new family for the new years. you? any kids?” he sends you a smile as he places the drink in front of you, tasting it from a straw before handing it off. “what is this again?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you take a sip.

the man across the counter chuckles as he grabs another drink ticket, making the beverage all while conversing with you. “i call it the chris. named after the best damn bartender this place has ever known. me. duh. but yes. i got a son. he’s 4. his names owen.”

“he probably looks up to you. don’t screw him up. but with all that aside, how can you be so sure of that?” you whisper, licking your lips as you grab the drink from the counter once more.

“i’ve been workin here since i was 18 years old. first 3 years i was only washing dishes but ive seen a good amount of bartenders come and go. i know im the best bartender that’s ever been here. 15 years of evidence.” his voice is more confident than cocky. a kind of attitude you’d kill to be in bed with. you hum in acknowledgment, looking at your suitcase besides you as the airport PA begins to speak again. the words are incomprehensible, but chris seems to understand them. some flight is leaving from gate B17.

“you think it’s weird or pathetic or something if im drinking at an airport bar at 2pm to avoid seeing my father?” you question, stirring the drink around with the small plastic straw.

“i’ve seen people here blackout drunk at 11am. i think you’re fine. what’s your name again, kid?” he asks, his lips parting as he pours a beer for a man besides you. you give him your name and he hums, handing you a piece of chocolate from behind the bar. “i think kid suits you better.” you furrow your brows at the gesture, reluctantly taking the sweet. “kid, just take it. it’s a piece of chocolate. no harm done if you take it. you don’t even gotta eat it. just get that look off your face. you look sad. you’re too pretty to look that sad.”

you blush at his words, popping the chocolate into your mouth. you slide your empty glass back across the bar, sending the bartender a smile- a real smile- and thank him honestly. “what time does your shift end?” you question, noticing another bartender begin to settle in.

“my shift? the second that you tab out. you want another and keep enjoying my company or you gonna head to your dad’s house?” he teases, washing the glass you handed to him. you shake your head and sigh, sitting up straight. “should probably head home. can i get the tab?” you whine, leaning your arm and head on the marble counter.

“nah i got it. get outta here. go see your dad. be nice to him.” he smiles, clocking out for the day. you slowly walk away, hesitantly pulling your bag with you.

when you finally make it out of the airport after an excruciatingly long walk, you let out a sigh. you knew you had four options. call a cab, call an uber, call one of your high school friends, or call your dad. you take a moment outside to gather your thoughts, only being brought back to reality when you bump into somebody behind you.

“shit i’m so sorry!” you groan, turning to profusely apologize to whoever was the victim. you smile when you notice that it’s chris. “oh. you again. following me are you?” you tease, poking at his shoulder.

“why you still here?” he questions. even though he hardly knew you, he felt like he still had an authority over you for no reason other than he was older than you by 10 years. you shrug as you let out a sigh, looking around. “i just don’t wanna see him yet. i mean… i dunno.”

chris sends you a look of remorse but then pulls you into a tight hug, one you clearly needed. he rubs a hand over his mouth before speaking. “you trust me enough to come back to my place? just till you feel good enough to go to your dads.” the look you gave him made him practically collapse.

your back was arched to a point that you didn’t even know you could reach. your face was buried into a pillow that was most definitely being stained with your mascara. “take it. thaaaaatts a good girl. take that dick. fuck you’re so tight.” chris speaks, his pants getting heavier with each of his thrusts. he’s holding your hands behind your back while you’re pushing yourself back onto his dick. it’s practically impossible for him to go any deeper into you, but you try to get him farther anyway. his grip on your wrists tightens when you let out another one of your whines. he can tell that you’re trying to spit out a sentence but that you’re unable to based on the cockdrunkness you’re experiencing. all you manage to achieve is a “c-cumming” and even that comes out all whiney and in chris’s words ‘pathetic.’ “y’gonna cum? fuck yeah you’re gonna cum. come on, pretty. cum all over daddy’s cock.” he whispers into your ear, leaving a mark on your neck as he lets go of your hands. your orgasm takes over your body, and any control of yourself you had left is out the window. you squirm and shake while chris is just smirking behind you, continuing his thrusts. he pulls out once you’ve settled down, spurts of cum falling onto your ass and lower back.

chris isn’t an asshole. he helps you clean yourself up and look presentable enough to go visit your dad. he even offered to drive you, but you refused because of how close it was. the arrival at your dads house was… fine. his new wife was fine and his four year old son was fine. it was all just fine. you could tell your dad tried cheering you up multiple times but it never worked.

the next day was the same shit, different day. you had to get through the day acting like you liked your step mother, had to get through the day acting like you tolerated children, and had to get through the day acting like your father didn’t hurt you when he left 6 years ago. you’re half tempted to go to the airport just to go to the bar. a knock on the door catches your attention, only furthered when your dad calls out to you. “hey honey can you get that? that must be your brothers friend and his dad, we’re buddies!. i invited them over for lunch!” he yells, to which you comply to almost immediately.

you open the door slowly, your eyes adjusting to the brightness of the outside world. a breath gets stuck in your throat when you’re met with the same eyes you saw at the bar. chris, whose eyes are about to pop out of their sockets, covers his sons ears as he speaks for both of you. “shit.”

a/n: new au who cheered! i did! i did! i finally get to write for chris thank GAWD cause as a chris girl i sure write a lot for matt.

tags(reply or message to be added): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @ayesha-eroticaa

[gtgbabie0]

i’m obsessed with your domestic wifey fic, the idea of vi being a mom is so cute. you should totally do another one where the reader is pregnant and vi is all sweet and protective. i would respectfully pass away

⋆⁺ ✮⋆⁺ Vi x Pregnant!Reader

Synopsis: {Vi gets protective over you during your pregnancy, especially when she thinks you’re pushing yourself too much} AN: thank you sm! Hope you like it lovely <3

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“Baby, will you please go and sit down?” Vi sighs, completely exasperated, concern swimming through those pretty blue eyes of hers. You loved her, really you did, but this constant hovering around you was slowly starting to drive you up the wall.

You had both returned from food shopping, now waddling your way around the kitchen to put away the groceries— hand resting over the swell of your stomach as you reach up to the cupboards and bend down to grab bags much to Vi’s dismay.

“I’m fine, it’s just—” you tell her with a tight-lipped smile, about to turn around to put the cans of soup into the cupboard when she huffs, taking the cans from you before putting them away herself, her brows knitted together tightly.

You want to scream but then her hands are resting over your hips, smoothing across your baby bump with such a gentle expression, her face softening and that small smile splays across her heart-shaped lips and you melt completely— shoulders dropping.

“Go sit down before I superglue your gorgeous ass to the couch.” Then the baby kicks beneath Vi’s palm, traitor, and her smile turns into a cocky smirk. “See peanut agrees with me… she wants her momma to go and relax.” her eyes glistened with complete adoration at the feeling, she’d never get bored of it, it was why she had her hands over your belly constantly.

You huff, pursing your lips out in a disapproving pout because every single hormone in your body wants to be stubborn and tell her that she’s being ridiculous and that you can handle putting away a few bags of groceries but—

“You’ve been on your feet all day, bet your back is killing.” Your wife continues, of course, she does. You hate how right she is, because god your back is killing from waking around that store for a good half an hour, it’s really done you in.

Then just to prove her point she trails one of her hands across your waist, her fingers pushing against the small of your back in tiny circles and you couldn't stop the groan that escapes your lips even if you wanted to— “You’re being so mean.”

“Oh I know, I’m the meanest…” she coos back pressing a kiss to the side of your head, then another, smirking against your hairline. “Go sit down, I’ll finish up here then I’ll give you a nice back rub, yeah?”

“Mm, fine… fine.” You concede, letting her tilt your head to look at her so she can peck your pouty lips— mumbling a small “Love you,” into the kiss.

Vi had one leg propped up on the sofa, bent at the knee and the other stretched out on the floor with you sitting in between her thighs whilst her hands massaged over your back— enjoying every little noise that escaped you.

“How’s that huh?” She asks, thumbs pressing slow circles into the small of your back. You nod your head in approval, “Yeah, right there.” that ache was the centre of all your problems right now— and telling from the way you lean back against her chest with a satisfied hum she knows she’s doing a pretty damn good job at soothing it. “There you go, s’that better?”

Vi hooks her chin over your shoulder, her hands smoothing across your waist to rub the curve of your tummy with a tender kiss against your jaw— “Much better.”

The feeling of her humming reverberates through your back and you relax further against her chest, enjoying the way she nuzzles her nose against your warm cheek— her hands still resting over your stomach that was peaking beneath your shirt.

“You’re so beautiful, so, so beautiful.” She whispers, words muffled against your warm skin as she presses her face further into the crook of your neck— peppering you with soft kisses, against your fluttering pulse point and the pair of you share a gasp when you feel the baby kick once more, hearts so full of love.

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[artdcnaldson]

Want religious virgin art to grind his dick between my pussy lips he says it’s practice for the real thing and it doesn’t count/isn’t a sin bc his dick isn’t inside of me (yet)

VIRGIN X VIRGIN YES GOD!!!!! This became longer than I expected so here have a gif

Both of you are so devout that your parents don't even feel like they should be worried about you two fooling around. You aren't even on birth control, and art would keel over and die before he walked into a store and bought a pack of condoms. You blush and fast forward movie scenes with anything beyond a chaste little kiss.

But you and Art are overcome with this intense, desperate need for each other that you can't really understand. You were never given the words to understand or describe it. You just know when you're on a date with Art and you move into the backseat of his car to make out (the one goddamn place in the world that you can get a hint of privacy), you get this ache between your legs, and gets a tent in his pants, and it feels like heaven when he moves his hips against yours.

You've both cum that way multiple times, blushing and panting and looking at each other in a strange mix of abject horror and absolute delight. You're both worried that it's a sin... at first. But you don't think you've really committed any horrible sin by just kissing. You haven't actually slept together, you know that's a line you can't cross... but the grey area...

You start by just... slipping off layers of clothing during each make out session. Testing the waters each time to see if it'll really eternally damn you. Your top, his shirt, his pants, your skirt. You leave on your bra and panties, but he can take off his boxer, if he wants. Its like adding rules of what you can and can't do makes it okay, like if you slowly increase the temperature, God won't notice by the time the water is boiling.

He fumbles with a bottle of lube he got from a red-faced trip to walgreens, slicking up his cock to rut over the sweet white cotton of your panties. Getting it so wet with lube that he can see your pussy through it. He hardly lasts, seeing the way the slick panties cling to your cunt, how your clit puffs up and you cry out when his tip nudges it. He finishes with a whimper and coats your panties in thick ropes of his cum.

By the next time, your panties are on the floor of his Jeep, and your cunt is slick with lube and your own arousal and he promises over and over that it doesn't count, that he's not inside of you, that God doesn't even (can't even) notice. His ruddy tip bumping your clit each time he slides through your folds makes you cry out, moaning in a way you hadn't known you were capable of. His hot breath against your neck as he buries his face there and whimpers, kissing along your shoulder and throat.

When his tip catches at your entrance you both freeze, just for a moment, considering how wrong it would be if it just... happened. If he just slipped in, like his body was made to. Like you were both created for. Just the thought is enough to make Art glaze your sticky folds with cum, practically sobbing from how good the release feels.

Maybe if god hasn't noticed yet, he never will.

[munsonsmixtapes]

I'm Not That Girl

Fiyero Tigelaar x shy!fem!reader

summary: you think Fiyero is only flirting you to be nice because you're not the kind of girl he usually goes for, but he's more than eager to set the record straight when confusion arises

This is based on a comment made on this post by @cultish-corner!

Nothing but anxiety courses through you the second you step foot on campus. You don’t know anyone and are nothing but nervous to be in a new place with new people. That’s your worst nightmare, you think, as you walk throughout the campus to the suite you were assigned, you can’t help but feel like everyone is staring at you, but absolutely no one is paying you any mind as you make your way down the hallway, repeatedly looking down at the sheet you’ve received to make sure you have the right room.

This is the first time you’ve ever been away from home for an extended period of time and you hate that you already miss it. But you’re excited for a new adventure. Even though you’re nervous, you’re still looking forward to what your time at Shiz will bring you. You’re looking forward to a change.

You’re so focused on looking at the sheet that you’re not even looking when you bump into something, or rather, someone. The collision causes your things to fall out of your hands and onto the floor, causing the stranger to drop to their knees, picking it all up rather quickly before holding your suitcase and papers out to you, a flirty smile on his pretty face that you only see out of the corner of your eyes because you’re afraid of making eye contact with him. 

“Here,” he says, handing the paper to you, still holding onto your suitcase which confuses you.

“Oh,” you reply. “Thank you.” 

He’s easily the prettiest man you’ve ever seen and you can’t help but be distracted by his striking blue eyes that definitely have a very flirty glint in them. You immediately recognize him as the prince you had seen in the newspaper not too long ago, seeing that he’d transferred here. You know all about his reputation, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to speak to him. In fact, it makes you want to do it even more.

“It’s my pleasure. I am so sorry for my clumsiness,” he apologizes even though it was very obviously you who ran into him. “I guess I was just so distracted by your beauty.” You don’t care if it’s a line, it works, causing your cheeks to heat as you tuck your chin to your chest, not wanting him to see you. 

“My apologies,” he sticks his hand out and takes free one, causing you to finally look up at him and you’re captivated by his pretty, blue eyes. “Fiyero Tiglaar, Winkie Country,” he says as his lips press a soft kiss to the top of your hand. 

“I-I’m y/n,” you introduce yourself, your voice still too soft for your liking. 

“Y/n,” he repeats your name slowly, a flirty tone to it and you just know that he does this with everyone he comes across, but you hope, you pray that this is different. You want him to be flirting with you because he thinks you’re pretty, not because he can. “I think that might be my favorite name of all.” 

“Now, shall we?” He asks, moving to stand beside you, offering you his arm and you loop your own arm through it before he reaches over and grabs hold of your luggage. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, your voice so low that Fiyero is almost unable to hear you. 

“I’m going to walk you to your room,” he says with a bright smile, leading you down the hallway, everyone who’s around whispering as the two of you walk together. It’s no secret that he’s popular, how could he not be with his looks and charm? And seeing him with you, the shy, new girl will definitely stir up some rumors. 

Your room is just down the hall and even though he’s only just met you, Fiyero doesn’t want to leave you. He wants you to invite him inside where the two of you sit on your bed and get to know each other. He wants to know everything about you. He wants to know where you grew up, what your hobbies are, whatever you want to tell him because he likes the sound of your voice.

“We’ll, here we are,” he says, hesitantly removing his arms from yours as you step away before taking your suitcase back from him. “It was a pleasure.” He bows then stands there, almost like he’s waiting for something. 

“Here we are,” you repeat, wondering what it is that he’s wanting. He should at least be halfway down the hall by now.

“Tomorrow, you should sit with me in the dining hall. I’d really enjoy your company,” he smiles and you nod in response. 

“I’d really like that,” you tell him, still nodding, feeling a warmth creep on your cheeks as you do so. You don’t know why you take him so seriously. Guys like him don’t ever give you so much as a second glance let alone a lunch invitation. By tomorrow, Fiyero will forget all about you.

The hallway is quiet and empty when you sneak out of your room. You can’t sleep because of how nervous you are for your first day of classes. Especially since it’s a few months into the year and you’re the only new person. Everyone else has gotten the chance to know each other and you’re new. 

It’s taking everything in you not to pack up your stuff and leave so you don’t have to face anyone tomorrow. You don’t care if it’s dramatic or that you’re overreacting, it’s not like anyone will miss you anyway. You always seem to fade into the background no matter what’s going on and that’s the way you like it. You hate being the center of attention and know that it will distract you from your first day if everyone is staring at you. 

You close the door gently and turn around slowly, letting out a yelp as you see Fiyero leaning against the wall across from you. He’s in his pajamas so you’re led to believe that he can’t sleep either. And he can’t, but not for the same reason as you. He’s just not tired and that’s not uncommon for him. He often has trouble sleeping. But tonight, he’s hoping you’ll keep him company so he doesn’t have to go back to bed alone. 

He pushes off of the wall and steps over to you, moving slowly because he can see that he’s startled you. You take a step forward and he can’t help but stare at you, wondering what you’re also doing up so late. 

“What are you doing up?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing in both confusion and worry. He wants to reach for you, but he decides against it. If there’s going to be any touching, he wants you to be the one to initiate it. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shake your head and he nods in understanding. His face softens and that infectious smile spreads across it. You can’t help but mimic him and that’s definitely something he could get used to seeing more often. 

“Me neither,” he replies then offers his hand out to you. “Would you like to go somewhere with me?” Go somewhere with him? You look this way and that to make sure there’s no one else he could possibly be talking to and he just laughs in response, a little too loudly for your liking. 

You step closer and press the palm of your hand to his lips to muffle his laughs and you both widen your eyes at your boldness. His eyes soften before yours do, more laughs spilling from his mouth as he pulls your hand away, holding it in his. 

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” you whisper to him and his laughs slowly turn into chuckles as he gives your hand a squeeze. 

“You need to relax,” he shakes his head. “And besides, trouble is my middle name.” You roll your eyes at his words and Fiyero really likes being able to more of your personality. “So,” he steps closer to you so that you’re toe to toe. “Are we going or what?” 

You’re not sure why, but you’ve found yourself to be at ease with him. He’s one of the only people who hasn’t had any problem with how shy and soft-spoken you are. He even seems to like it, not minding in the slightest having to get closer to hear what you have to say. In fact, he seems to prefer it.

“Yes,” you nod. “Let’s go.” 

“So you’re just going to blindly follow a man that you barely know to an unknown location where anything could happen to you?” He teases as he pulls you down the hallway and you never thought about it that way, and if it had been anyone else, maybe you would be worried, but not with Fiyero. “Well, y/n, I thought you knew better than that.” 

“And the same goes to you, Tigelaar,” you retort. “I could just as easily be as dangerous.”

“Somehow, I just don’t think that’s true. You’re far too sweet.” You hate that he’s right. It wouldn’t even cross your mind to hurt someone unless they made the first move. 

“You don’t even know me.” And he hates that he doesn’t. He hopes that in the coming weeks that you’ll be friends or maybe even more, but he knows the latter is probably just wishful thinking. 

“And that’s exactly why I invited you to join me tonight. I want to get to know you. It’s also the reason why I invited you to eat with me in the dining hall.” You’re confused now. You thought he was just trying to be nice. And now you feel terrible for even thinking that he wasn’t being genuine.

“You were serious about that?” Fiyero is quick to turn around to face you, hurt flashing across his face. And seeing the pain expression on yours is making him feel even worse. He thought that his intentions were pretty clear, but apparently he had been wrong. 

“O-of course I was serious. Why would I joke about that?” He’s leaning closer to you, taking your hands in his gently as he pulls you closer, wanting you to look him in the eyes when he speaks. “I invited you because I want to spend time with you, to get to know you. Don’t let anyone ever tell you any different,” he says as he pushes some hair away from your face. 

“I know it sounds silly since we’ve only just met, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since this morning.” The look in his eye is nothing but genuine and now you feel silly for thinking that he was anything but. 

“I thought it was just me,” you reply, your eyes lighting up. 

“No,” he shakes his head, leaning even closer to you as his hands move to rest in your hips, his eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort or hesitance. “Can I try something?” He asks in a whisper, his eyes shifting your lips and you think you know what he wants to try. 

“Yes,” you reply as your eyes flutter shut, feeling his breath fanning your face as he leans down and presses his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck as he pulls you closer to him, responding to his kiss as your lips slot between his, moving with them as best as you can. 

Fiyero pulls away before you’re ready and pulls you a few feet before spinning you into him, pressing another kiss to your lips. He then takes you to the gardens where you spend the rest of the night, talking about everything and nothing between sweet kisses until the sun comes up. You think it’s needless to say that you’re really going to like it at Shiz.

[movingmusically]

Hello . Can i request a piece where austin and reader gave a slow sunday morning with sex in the shower?

Author’s Note:

If you liked this chapter, you might enjoy a similar one I wrote in my Hank Thompson series, feel free to check it out here!

Word Count: 5,833

Masterlist

Let the World Wait

The morning sunlight spilled softly into the room, warming the tangled sheets and brushing against your skin. You stirred slowly, half-buried in the warmth of the duvet, feeling the comforting weight of Austin’s arm draped over your waist, his long fingers resting on the small of your back. His touch is soft, absent-minded even, but it grounds you, like he’s reassuring himself you’re still there.

It’s one of your favourite things about him—the way he’s always touching you in some way, even without thinking about it. A hand brushing your back as he passes, his knee bumping against yours under the table, his fingers trailing idly along your arm while you talk. It’s like he needs the constant reassurance that you’re there, that this is real. You think about those long fingers now, the way they know exactly how to tease, how to hold, how to make you feel completely his. The thought sends a flicker of heat through you, but you push it aside, letting yourself sink back into the warmth of the moment.

You shift slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him. He’s still out cold, his face buried halfway in the pillow, his hair a wild mess of blonde waves that stick up at odd angles. His mouth is slightly open, and you can hear the faintest sound of his breathing—steady, slow, soothing.

These mornings feel rare. Most of your time together is stolen in fleeting moments between conflicting schedules, long stretches apart, and late-night phone calls where one of you is half-asleep. The life you’ve built together is wonderful, chaotic, and full of love, but mornings like this—lazy, unhurried, with no reason to rush—are the exception, not the rule. And maybe that’s why you’re savouring it now, letting yourself soak in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

God, you love him. You love the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. You love the way he listens, really listens, even when you’re rambling about something inconsequential. You love the way he makes you feel safe and seen and so completely, utterly loved.

You reach up to brush a strand of hair away from his face, trying not to wake him, but he stirs anyway. His nose scrunches in the way it always does when he’s waking up, and your chest tightens because even that tiny, sleepy movement feels impossibly endearing.

Then, slowly, those impossibly blue eyes blink open, still hazy with sleep. His gaze lands on you, and the softest smile tugs at his lips, one side curving up just a little more than the other.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy, the kind of sound that never fails to send a little thrill down your spine.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice just as quiet.

His arm tightens around you, pulling you closer until you’re pressed fully against him, his warmth seeping into your skin. His lips brush your temple in a lazy, barely-there kiss, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Been watching me sleep?” he teases, his grin widening as he buries his face in your hair.

“Maybe,” you admit, a small laugh slipping out. “You were drooling, by the way.”

“I don’t drool,” he replies, his voice muffled against your hair, but there’s laughter in his tone.

“You do, actually,” you counter, shifting so you can look up at him. “I’ve got photographic evidence somewhere.”

“Lies,” he says, his hand sliding up your back, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against your skin. “You just like staring at me. Admit it.”

“Fine,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully. “You’re cute when you’re unconscious.”

“Only when I’m unconscious?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well,” you say, pretending to consider it. “You’re tolerable when you’re awake.”

His laugh is soft and warm, rumbling in his chest as he shifts to roll you onto your back. He hovers over you, his hair falling into his face as he grins down at you, and your breath catches for a moment.

“Just tolerable?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you reply, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

His smile softens then, the teasing giving way to something quieter, something deeper. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and when he pulls back, his eyes linger on yours.

“I missed this,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

“Me too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t say more. You don’t have to. It’s all there in the way he looks at you, like he’s memorising every detail, and in the way you reach up to trace the curve of his jaw, wishing you could hold onto this moment forever.

Because you know how rare this is. His work, your work—it pulls you in a thousand different directions. Most mornings, one of you is rushing out the door while the other tries not to let the goodbye linger too long. But here, in this soft cocoon of warmth and sunlight, it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and your chest tightens at the honesty in his voice.

“You make it sound like I’m the catch here,” you tease lightly, but your smile falters when his gaze doesn’t waver.

“You are,” he says simply.

The weight of his words settles between you, and for a moment, you feel like the air’s been knocked out of you. But then he’s leaning down again, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender and filled with everything he can’t quite say.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he lets out a soft laugh. “We’re being disgustingly sappy, aren’t we?”

“Maybe a little,” you reply, grinning.

“Want me to stop?” he asks, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip.

“Not even a little bit.”

His laugh is louder this time, and it fills the room in a way that makes your chest feel lighter. He rolls onto his side, pulling you with him until you’re nestled against him again.

Your hand moves to trace lazy patterns over his chest, your fingertips skimming the faint dusting of hair there. His chest rises and falls a little deeper under your touch, a subtle reaction you’ve come to know so well—a quiet surrender to the way you affect him.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment as your fingers continue their aimless journey over his skin, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. These quiet moments, where it’s just the two of you, feel so precious. Life pulls you in so many directions—work, travel, obligations—but here, in this bed, it’s just him and you, tangled together with no deadlines, no alarms, no need to rush.

“You know, we really do need to get up at some point.” you murmur, though you make no effort to move.

“Do we, though?” His voice is thick with sleep, his words drawled as if he’s only half awake. “I’m not convinced.” His arm tightens around you, and you know neither of you has any intention of leaving the bed just yet.

You laugh softly, the sound muffled against his chest. “We can’t stay here forever.”

“Why not?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his tone. “Bed’s warm. You’re here. I’m here. Seems like a pretty solid argument to me.”

His logic is flawless, and for a moment, you let yourself entertain the fantasy of staying exactly like this all day. No meetings, no calls, no responsibilities. Just the two of you, cocooned in this bubble of stolen time. But then reality nudges at the back of your mind, and with a sigh, you shift slightly.

“Okay, but I need to get up,” you say, though your body remains firmly pressed against his.

He grumbles something incoherent, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His stubble brushes against your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you let out a soft, involuntary laugh.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice full of amusement.

“Trying to convince you that staying in bed is the better option,” he mumbles, his lips brushing against your collarbone.

“You’re very persuasive,” you admit, your fingers sliding up to thread through his hair, which is still delightfully messy from sleep. “But I think nature might win this round.”

He lifts his head, his brows furrowing slightly as he looks at you. “Nature?”

“I need to pee,” you confess, your face breaking into a sheepish grin.

A moment of silence passes before he lets out a dramatic groan, rolling onto his back and flinging an arm over his face. “Betrayed by basic bodily functions,” he mutters, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to laugh.

You prop yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with an arched brow. “Would you rather I stayed here and wet myself?”

He peeks at you from beneath his arm, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Not exactly the vibe I was going for, no.”

“Thought so.” You lean down to press a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping out from under the covers. The cool air hits your skin, and you shiver slightly as you make your way toward the bathroom.

Behind you, you hear him call out, “Don’t take too long. I’m not done convincing you to stay in bed.” You laugh, shaking your head, the cool tiles against your bare feet a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bed you just left.

The bathroom is quiet except for the sound of running water as you wash your hands. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror—hair tousled from sleep, cheeks warm with the leftover glow of being wrapped up in him. There’s a small smile on your lips, the kind you couldn’t hide if you tried.

The sound of the door creaking open drifts in, followed by the quiet pad of his footsteps. You don’t turn, but your smile widens, knowing he can’t stand to stay away for long. Sure enough, you feel the heat of his body behind you a moment later, his presence filling the small bathroom effortlessly.

“Couldn’t stay in bed?” you ask, glancing at him through the mirror as you reach for your toothbrush.

He leans against the doorframe, his eyes still heavy with sleep but impossibly warm as they settle on you. “Missed you,” he says simply, his voice low and gravelly, the kind of sound that makes your stomach flip.

Your heart does that little flutter it always does when he says things like that. “You lasted all of five minutes,” you tease lightly, squeezing toothpaste onto your brush.

“Five minutes too long,” he counters, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. His chin rests on your shoulder as he watches you in the mirror, his sleepy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You start brushing your teeth, trying to keep your expression neutral as his hands drift idly along your sides. He’s not doing anything overtly distracting—just little, absentminded touches that make your skin tingle and remind you of how close he is. His thumbs brush gently against your skin, just enough to send a pleasant warmth spreading through you.

He grabs his toothbrush from the counter, staying close enough that his arm brushes against yours. His movements are slow, unhurried, as if he’s content to take his time as long as you’re beside him.

When you finish and rinse your mouth, you turn to find him still brushing, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. There’s a teasing glint in them, the kind that makes you want to roll your eyes but also makes your chest ache with affection.

“You’re really taking your time there,” you say, leaning back against the counter.

He pauses, the toothbrush still in his mouth, and raises a brow at you, as if to say, And?

You smirk, leaning closer, your hand coming up to rest lightly on his chest. “Nothing. Just seems like an awfully long time to be brushing when you said you missed me so much.”

He grins around the toothbrush, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. Spitting into the sink, he rinses his mouth quickly, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. Then he turns to you, still standing there with that playful smirk tugging at your lips.

“Oh, I did miss you,” he murmurs, his voice dropping low as he steps closer. His hands find your hips, his thumbs brushing over the bare skin there, his touch warm and possessive as he pulls you closer. “And now that I’ve got you here…” He trails off, his gaze dipping briefly to your lips before snapping back up to meet your eyes.

You raise a brow, pretending to be unimpressed, though your pulse quickens under his touch. “Now what?”

His smirk widens, and without warning, he sweeps you up into his arms. A surprised laugh escapes you as he carries you the few steps to the shower, reaching in to turn on the water before you can protest. The spray hisses against the tiles, and steam begins to curl in the air around you.

“Baby!” you exclaim, your laughter bubbling over as he gently sets you on your feet under the warm stream of water, his body pressing close behind you, the heat of the shower wrapping around you both.

“What?” he replies innocently, his chest pressed firmly against your back. “I thought you’d enjoy starting the day fresh.”

“You know, if you wanted to get me in the shower, you could’ve just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he murmurs, his arms snaking around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder. His touch is unhurried, almost reverent, as though he’s savouring the feel of you in his arms. The spray of water glides over both of you, the rhythmic sound mingling with the steady cadence of your breathing.

“I’ve been thinking about this all morning,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and rough, his words a quiet confession. “You. This.” His lips linger there, soft and warm, as his hands begin a slow, deliberate exploration of your body.

“Austin,” you breathe, the sound of his name rough and needy on your lips.

“God, I love when you say my name like that,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire as his hands slide up, his palms skimming over your stomach, then higher, cupping your breasts with a possessiveness that makes your breath hitch. His thumbs circle your nipples, teasing them into tight peaks, and the sensation pulls a soft gasp from your lips.

He hums in satisfaction, his mouth moving to the side of your neck, where he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses and his teeth graze the sensitive spot just below your ear. His grip on you tightens slightly, holding you firmly against him as his arousal presses insistently against the curve of your backside.

You turn your head just enough to catch his gaze, your eyes meeting his through the misty haze of the shower. His blue eyes are darker now, clouded with hunger, and the intensity in them sends heat pooling low in your belly. You lift a hand to tangle in his wet hair, pulling him down for a kiss that’s slow and searing, your lips parting to let him deepen it. The taste of him—familiar, intoxicating—fuels the fire building between you.

His hands glide down to your hips, gripping them with purpose as he turns you to face him. The water continues to pour over both of you, sliding between your bodies as you press against each other, your hands roaming over his chest, the slick heat of his skin beneath your fingertips. He’s all hard muscle and sharp lines, his body honed to perfection, and the way he moves, confident and sure, makes your head spin.

“I missed this,” he mutters against your lips, his hands framing your face as he kisses you deeply, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that makes your knees weak. One of his hands moves lower, sliding down your back to cup your ass, squeezing firmly before pulling you closer, pressing your bodies together until there’s no space left between you.

You break the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, your head tilting back as his mouth moves to your neck again, his teeth scraping lightly against your pulse point before his lips soothe the mark. His hand slides between your thighs, his fingers brushing against your slick heat, and you let out a soft moan, your hands clutching at his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Always so ready for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as his fingers tease you, sliding through your folds with practiced ease. He finds your clit, circling it slowly at first, then with more pressure, drawing small, desperate sounds from your throat.

Your hips move against his hand, chasing the pleasure building with each deliberate stroke of his fingers. He’s watching you now, his gaze locked on your face, drinking in every gasp, every arch of your body.

“Look at you,” he breathes, his voice rough with need. “So fucking beautiful.”

His words push you closer to the edge, and he seems to know it, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. The dual sensations threaten to overwhelm you, your breaths coming faster as the pressure builds, and just when you think you might fall apart completely, he pulls his hand away, leaving you trembling and desperate.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips as he guides you back against the cool tile wall. The contrast of the cold surface against your heated skin makes you shiver, but any discomfort is quickly forgotten as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh.

Your hands move to tangle in his hair as his mouth inches closer to where you need him most. When his tongue finally flicks out, teasing you with the lightest touch, you let out a sharp gasp, your hips bucking instinctively.

He doesn’t rush. His movements are slow, deliberate, as though he’s savouring every moment, every taste of you. His tongue glides through your folds, finding your clit with precision, and when he sucks lightly, the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your back arching off the wall.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him close as he works you with maddening skill, his tongue and lips coaxing you higher and higher.

The pressure builds steadily, your body tightening under his touch as Austin devotes himself entirely to your pleasure. His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue continues its deliberate, torturous rhythm, swirling around your clit, then dipping lower to tease you further.

The warmth of his breath mingles with the heat of the shower, and the sounds spilling from your lips—soft moans and whispered pleas—only seem to spur him on. His name falls from your mouth like a mantra, your fingers tugging at his wet hair as you teeter closer and closer to the edge.

“Baby, please…” you breathe, your voice trembling with need.

His response is a low, satisfied hum against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure rippling through your body. And then he shifts slightly, his tongue pressing harder, his movements more focused, and it’s enough to push you over the edge. The world tilts as the orgasm crashes through you, your legs trembling as you cry out, your back pressing into the cool tile for support.

Austin doesn’t stop, his tongue drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until you’re left breathless and boneless against the wall. When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, his face wet from both the water and you, and his gaze is nothing short of ravenous.

“You taste like heaven,” he murmurs, his voice husky as he rises to his feet, his hands still steadying you. He kisses you then, deep and consuming, letting you taste yourself on his lips. It’s messy and unrestrained, his desire for you pouring into every movement, every press of his body against yours.

You can feel him now, hard and insistent against your stomach, and it stirs something primal in you. Your hands slide down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, until you’re wrapping your fingers around him, your touch drawing a sharp inhale from his lips.

“Fuck,” he groans, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as you stroke him, your movements slow and deliberate, matching the teasing pace he’d set for you. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggles to keep himself together.

“Turn around,” he commands softly, his voice thick with restraint. The words send a thrill through you, and you comply without hesitation, your hands bracing against the wet tile as you feel him step closer, his body radiating heat against your back.

He takes a moment, his hands roaming over your body, tracing the curve of your spine, the swell of your hips. “Perfect,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before aligning himself with you, the head of his cock brushing against your slick entrance.

The anticipation is almost unbearable, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He presses into you slowly, inch by inch, letting you feel every part of him as he stretches you, fills you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and heat that leaves you gasping, your fingers curling against the tile.

He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he sinks fully into you. He pauses there, giving you a moment to adjust, his lips brushing the back of your neck in a tender, grounding gesture.

“Move,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

And he does. Slowly, deliberately, he pulls back before thrusting forward again, his movements measured and unhurried. His hands guide your hips to meet him, his rhythm steady and deliberate, as though he wants to draw this moment out as long as possible. Each stroke feels deeper, more meaningful, every thrust hitting a spot inside you that sends pleasure radiating through your entire body.

The tension builds gradually, a delicious ache that coils in your core with every roll of his hips. Austin leans down, his chest flush against your back, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind your ear. “You feel so good,” he breathes, his voice thick with reverence and raw need. “So good, baby.”

His words send a shiver racing down your spine, and you arch back against him, giving him better access. His movements grow more fluid, his pace picking up slightly as he presses you further against the wall, the heat of his body enveloping you entirely. One of his hands slides up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head to the side so he can kiss you, his lips devouring yours in a kiss that’s all-consuming, messy, and perfect.

You gasp into his mouth as his other hand snakes around to the front of your body, his fingers finding your clit with precision. The contact is electric, a spark that shoots straight through you and has your hips bucking instinctively against his touch. His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, and the dual sensations overwhelm you, flooding your senses with heat and pleasure.

“Austin,” you manage to gasp, your voice breaking on his name. Your fingers dig into the slick tiles for purchase, your body trembling under the intensity of his touch. He’s everywhere—behind you, inside you, his chest pressed to your back as his lips graze your shoulder, murmuring soft, barely audible words of encouragement that only make the ache in your core grow more unbearable.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. “Every sound you make, every time your body reacts to me—I can’t get enough of you.” His words, so raw and full of need, send a shiver cascading down your spine, and you feel yourself teetering closer to the edge.

His pace quickens slightly, his hips snapping forward with just a little more urgency, pushing you further and further toward the brink. The sound of the water splashing against your bodies is drowned out by the wet, rhythmic slap of his movements and the desperate, breathy sounds falling from your lips. His fingers on your clit press harder, his motions more insistent as he shifts his angle slightly, hitting a spot inside you that makes you cry out, your entire body tightening in response.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough with a combination of restraint and desire. “Let go for me. I want to feel you fall apart.”

Your head falls back against his shoulder, your breaths coming in short, uneven bursts as the pleasure builds to a dizzying crescendo. His free hand slips up to cup your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple in a way that sends another jolt of heat straight to your core. It’s too much—his touch, his words, the way he’s filling you so perfectly—and the coil inside you finally snaps.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough and commanding. His thumb circles your clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts, and the combination is too much to resist. You cry out his name as your second orgasm crashes over you, your body shuddering against his as waves of pleasure roll through you, leaving you breathless.

He groans at the way your body tightens around him, his movements becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. “Fuck,” he rasps, his hands gripping you tightly as he thrusts into you one last time, his body tensing as he comes. His head drops to your shoulder, his breaths coming in heavy, uneven bursts as the last of his pleasure courses through him.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, the water cascading over your intertwined bodies, washing away the evidence of your passion but not the lingering heat that remains. Eventually, Austin pulls back slightly, his hands sliding to your waist as he turns you to face him. His eyes are soft, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache, and he cups your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but full of reverence. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his touch lingering, unhurried, as though he’s committing the moment to memory.

You let out a small laugh, the sound light and breathless, as you wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He grins at that, his forehead resting against yours as the shower spray continues to beat against both of you. The heat of the water mingles with the warmth of his body, the closeness making the world beyond the bathroom feel like a distant dream.

After a moment, he shifts slightly, brushing damp strands of hair away from your face. “You good?” he asks softly, his blue eyes scanning yours with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten.

“More than good,” you reply, your hands slipping down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “But if we stay in here much longer, I’m going to start looking like a raisin.”

He chuckles, his hands sliding down your back, playful but still gentle. “I don’t think that’s possible. You’d still look perfect.”

You roll your eyes, though warmth blooms in your chest at his words. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“I’m willing to take that risk,” he teases, leaning down to press another kiss to your shoulder before reluctantly reaching past you to turn off the water. The sound of the spray fades, replaced by the soft hum of your breaths mingling in the now-steamy room.

Austin grabs a towel from the nearby rack, unfolding it with a theatrical flourish before wrapping it carefully around you. “Ladies first,” he says, his grin wide and playful.

“Chivalry isn’t dead, I see,” you reply, your voice light as you let him pull the edges of the towel snug around your body. The warmth of the fabric is a welcome contrast to the cool air outside the shower, but it’s the softness in his gaze as he tucks the towel under your arms that makes your breath hitch.

He grabs another towel for himself, rubbing it lazily over his damp hair before looping it loosely around his waist. His movements are relaxed, unhurried, and impossibly endearing as he slings an arm casually around your waist and guides you back into the bedroom.

The sunlight filters through the curtains, painting the room in soft, golden hues, and you sink down onto the edge of the bed, reaching for the bottle of lotion on the nightstand. You squeeze a small amount into your palms, rubbing your hands together before smoothing it over your arms.

Austin watches you for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, the towel slung low on his hips. His blue eyes are bright, taking you in with a look that’s equal parts admiration and mischief. “You’re really going to make me just stand here and watch?” he asks, his voice playful but with a hint of challenge.

“You seemed content to be entertained,” you reply, not looking up as you focus on your task. But when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, the grin playing on his lips makes your heart stutter.

He pushes off the doorframe, crossing the room in a few long strides until he’s standing in front of you. “Let me help,” he says softly, kneeling down and reaching for the bottle of lotion.

“I can handle it,” you say, but there’s no real protest in your tone. His hands, warm and sure, close over yours, gently taking the lotion from you.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, squeezing some lotion into his palm. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You laugh quietly, unable to stop the smile that spreads across your face as he starts with your legs, his hands sliding down your calves before working their way back up to your knees. His touch is unhurried, deliberate, as though he’s savouring the moment just as much as you are. When his hands reach your thighs, his thumbs press lightly into your skin, and you feel your breath hitch.

“You’re thorough,” you say, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

He glances up at you, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. “Can’t rush perfection.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spreads as he moves to your arms, carefully smoothing the lotion over your skin. His touch is so tender, so full of care, that you feel yourself relax completely under his hands.

“Turn around,” he says gently, his voice low.

You comply, shifting on the bed so your back is to him. His hands glide over your shoulders, kneading the muscles there as he works the lotion into your skin. You sigh softly, leaning into his touch, and he chuckles, the sound vibrating through you.

“Feels good?” he asks, his hands moving lower to your lower back, his thumbs pressing in small, soothing circles.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, your eyes fluttering shut. “You’re too good at this.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “You deserve it,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

The intimacy of the moment—his hands, his voice, the way his lips brush so lightly against you—fills the room with a quiet kind of magic. When he’s finished, he shifts to sit beside you on the bed, reaching for the bottle to finish applying the lotion to himself.

You watch him for a moment, the way his muscles move beneath his skin, the concentration on his face. It’s such a simple act, but there’s something about it that makes your heart swell with affection.

“Need help?” you tease, leaning closer to him.

He smirks, glancing at you. “You offering?”

“Maybe.” Your fingers brush against his arm, and his smirk softens into something quieter, something more vulnerable.

His free hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “You know I love you, right?”

Your breath catches, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around your heart. “Yeah,” you say softly, leaning into his touch. “I know. I love you too.”

The smile that spreads across his face is so full of warmth it takes your breath away. “Good,” he says, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulls back, his eyes linger on yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just the two of you, tangled in each other, the morning sunlight casting a golden glow over everything.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice low and inviting as he pulls you closer. The bottle of lotion is forgotten as his hands slide to your waist, guiding you into his lap and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I vote we stay in bed the rest of the day.”

“Tempting,” you admit, your head resting against his chest. “But I think we’ll need food at some point.”

“I’ll order us something,” he says, his lips curving into a small smile against your hair. “Anything to keep you close.”

You laugh softly, tipping your head back to look at him. “You’re really laying it on thick this morning.”

“Can you blame me?” he replies, his grin widening. “You make it easy.”

Shaking your head, you reach up to kiss him again, your fingers threading through his damp hair. It’s slower this time, less urgent but no less full of feeling.

As the kiss breaks, you rest your forehead against his, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “Fine,” you murmur, your lips brushing his softly, “let’s stay here all day.”

His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “Best decision you’ve ever made,” he whispers, his voice warm and full of contentment.

You smile, sinking back into his embrace as the soft hum of the morning fades into the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat. There’s nothing else to think about, nothing else to do—just the two of you, wrapped in each other, letting the world outside wait.

[norrisleclercf1]

Max and lando with landos win at zandvoort make some fluff

Pretty please 🥺🥺

A/N: I'm so sorry, that I haven't written this I promise it was not forgotten I made it Norstappen x Reader hope that was okay

Oh, how hard it is to be dating two people, but when those two people are currently in some type of championship battle, you don't know how to act. Do you cheer for the underdog, the one thrown to the wolves, proclaimed to defeat the mighty Lion.

Or, do you go for the Mighty Lion, the next coming of the sport that constantly breaking barriers and records, the one who is the proclaimed legend of the sport. You stood in McLaren hospitality as it was Lando's turn to have you there as you stood in Zandvoort, watching he just built the gap more and more.

Covering your mouth you watch as he crosses the finish line the fireworks making you jump as you listen to his radio and hear those familiar words cross his lips. "Oh, Lando," You sigh, knowing this would cause an uproar for Max's fans, but also others would use this to fuel the rivalry that is growing.

Putting down the headphones you walk down as you see Lando celebrate with a simple fist bump, Charles and Max pulling in behind him. You stay back, not wanting to draw attention to you, as people didn't take kindly to you being "friends" with both Max and Lando. Lando looks through the crowd and see you, giving you a small thumbs up, you give it back but turn seeing Max walk past simply clapping Lando on the back as Charles takes his place as his yapping buddy.

"It's always those three on the podium," Someone comments, which has you thinking back making you giggle as they were there for Miami and now here. The podium was one you have remembered for you slink off heading to check on Max, as the sting of losing your home race was not easy, you already experienced it was Lando and Silverstone.

You wait in Max's driver room as he opens the door, drenched in champagne, sweat and God knows what else he's covered in. "Hi," You both whisper as Max stays silent and moves around the room to get changed you merrily watch him. "I heard Lando's radio," Breaking the silence you wait for his reaction but you can see him smiling, wither it was one a predator gives before eating it's pray or one of genuine pride of Lando being so bold, you were unsure.

"Mhm," Is all you can say as Max turns eyeing you, but you give nothing away as you try to always remain impartial the how do you say? Switzerland in your relationship as the war rages sometimes even in the confines of your shared home. "Is it wrong it was somewhat hot of him to do that?" Max asks, making you back against the wall you look up.

"Max, I told you, I would not get involved," You whisper softly as Max raises a blonde eyebrow and smirks, "Calm, I won't do anything," He mumbles and gently presses his lips against your forehead. "I'm going to find Lando, see you back at the hotel," He mumbles, turning on his heels and walking out. It was rather hard to find Lando in the see of orange.

The orange army was out in droves, but so was the papaya fans, it was rather annoying in the moment but Max would deal with it, as he moves around taking pictures and signing stuff he stops noticing the familiar curls he loves to tug and pull, scruff and yank him by. The fans love it, always calling Lando his kitten, oh how true it was.

Moving into the shadows he waits and pounces as Lando yelps and he covers his mouth, Lando fights but stops seeing the piercing blue stare into his sea green. "Simply Lovely," Max whispers as he feels Lando smile against his hand. "Yeah," He mumbles, making the older chuckle and tug him closer and kiss one of Lando's moles. "You were very hot today, told you could beat me," Max whispers making Lando shiver.

"I always beat you," Lando whispers and Max raises an eyebrow as Lando swallows his tongue knowing he just lied big time, "Don't get cocky yet, okay," Max smiles and moves hugging Lando just breathing in the scent of champagne, sweat, and just a hint of Lando's cologne.

"Love you," Lando whispers tugging him in by his waist hiding his face into his shoulder. "Love you too," Max hums kissing his neck making Lando giggle.

[themiserablechick]

Pumpkin

mdni

Age Gap (dbf! Art), degradation, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap.) Arts also kinda pathetic

a/n I have never posted smut on here and this isn’t edited so….also it’s so much longer than the first part I got carried away I guess. If this is bad please tell me. I also have a lot of smut that’s just sitting in my drafts so if y'all want that…

Part 1

Art told everyone he’d sleep in hopefully to avoid your hand sliding down his thigh at breakfast, when he did come down to the breakfast at the hotel everyone was pretty much done eating and you were nowhere in sight. When he asked where you were your mom said that you hadn’t felt well, you’d come down later.

“Oh well I can bring her breakfast,” Art was a stupid man

When he reached your door a breakfast plate in hand and knocked you shouted “Sorry I don’t need house keeping,”

he scoffed “It’s me.”

He heard shuffling and you opened the door in your underwear and a t-shirt. Art cleared his throat

“That’s how you answer the door?”

“It’s you,” you said obviously

“Right well-uh, this is for you.”

You eyed the plate and then him “You brought me breakfast?”

Arts's face feels warm, he feels stupid or like a little kid. He has to remind himself he’s older than you. “I-yeah, your mom said you didn’t feel well.”

“Oh-“ you grab the breakfast plate

“I just wanted to sleep in, maybe sneak off to the pool,” you shrugged and looked back into the now empty suite you shared with his daughter, you turned back squinting at him. “Do you want to come in?”

His face reddens more “oh probably not-“ he saw visions of you wrapped in cigarette smoke enveloped in blue light from the pool “I think they’re waiting-“

You quirk a brow “it’s vacation no ones waiting”

You left the door open and sat on the bed he stood in the hallway for a second before closing the door behind him. He stood a good distance away from the bed like you were contagious

“Good to know you were thinking of me.” He chuckled “oh I wasn’t—“ he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I don’t know why you’re so set on denying yourself pleasure.”

He blushed slightly he felt like a high schooler “Why do you say stuff like that?”

“Because you know it’s true,”

“Your dad is a nice guy you know? He doesn’t deserve-“

“To have such a slut as a daughter?” You cut him off, setting your breakfast plate to the side

“That’s not what I was saying.”

“It’s what you meant.”

He looked down and you got up to stand across from him “why did you come up here?”

He didn’t answer.

You intruded his space your chest bumping his

“Tell me you didn’t come up here to fuck me.”

“Jesus—“ he looked to the side

“Look at me.” He turned his head and your faces were impossibly close. You leaned up to kiss him pressing your lips to his. At first he stood perfectly still his hands at his side but you took his hands in yours and guided them to the plumpness of your ass. He moaned at the feeling of his tongue running at the seam of your lips begging for entrance. His hands slid up to your hips and under your shirt at your waist.

He walked you back till your knees hit the back of the bed and you fell backward. He took off his shirt and you saw a glimpse of his face he looked pathetic like a kicked puppy. You laid back and he climbed between your legs. He kissed you like he hated you really hated you. His pumpkin. A nickname you eventually outgrew. You were born before his daughter 2 years older, and he always considered you as his own. He felt so gross. His hand reached between the two of you his fingers feeling the wet spot on your underwear.

“Are you always this wet?”

He sunk his fingers into you he felt warm,wet and tight, you whimpered at the feeling.

“I’m sorry” he said into your skin, he wasn’t apologizing for making you whimper he was apologizing for being there in the first place, for the hard-on in his pants

“Fuck- I’m sorry” he pumped deeper he moved his head under your jaw “why’d you make me do this??” He reached for the button of his pants shucking them and his boxers off “fuck why’d- you make me do this?” You just laid there unraveling he took his fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean like it was nothing

He aligned himself with you and bullied his cock into your tight hole “You’re such a slut,” his hips rocked “making me fuck you.” He talked about you like you had powers beyond him and he couldn’t help himself. You were so warm and you sucked him right in and he couldn’t remember the last time he actually fucked his wife.

“M’sorry.” You mewled clinging to him“wanted you so bad.”

It made him think about all the times he’d carried you when you were younger clinging to him— whining when he left

Art pressed his lips to yours urgently, and he reached between the two of you searching to roll your clit between his fingers. You whined and bucked against him he was already coming

“Fuck feel so good, so tight.”he dropped his head to your shoulder he sped up feeling you tighten around him “I’m gonna-fuck” he groaned he tried to pull out but long legs wrapped around his hips

“Want you to come inside.” And just like that he was gone, you felt him come inside you. Warmth spread all over. He still moved his hips urging you to finish and you did not long after. He collapsed on top of you.

After silence he spoke up “I didn’t mean to call you a slut.” He said into your shoulder

“I know.” You ran a hair through blonde hair

He leaned up and kissed your head “Love you pumpkin.”

[steviewashere]

I saw everybody sharing their fave fanfics they read over the course of 2024, so I thought I'd go ahead and share some that I've bookmarked! Heads up, I may have recommended a few of these before in my attempts to do recommendations in previous months, but it doesn't hurt anybody to share them again.

Also, as always, heed all archive warnings, tags, and ratings for each piece. Be kind, leave kudos and comments, and most importantly, happy reading! <3

My 2024 Fave Fanfics in No Particular Order:

Yours (all along) by ohstars | @oh-stars "Eddie Munson has spent the last ten years trying to move on from the collapse of Hawkins. Now he's starting at a new school on the coast of South Carolina with the hopes that he can find some kind of peace in this new life of his. Of course, that's turned on his head when a freshman decides to get under his skin and when that freshman's parents happen to be his nemesis (and love of his life) and one of his former best friends? Eddie's certain the universe has it in for him. Now he has to navigate teaching his enemy's child and dealing with the Incident that started it all, that he's been running away from this whole time. Is it time to start running? Or will Eddie finally be brave enough to tackle his feelings head on?" Mature | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 16/16 | Steddie

keep my hand in yours by cydonic "Eddie Munson, a cleaner at a regional airport in Indiana, finds a boy asleep on the floor outside Departure Gate A3 on Christmas Eve. Eddie's always had a soft spot for strays, so he takes Steve Harrington home for the holidays." Explicit | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

my heart has changed (my soul has changed) by Chubbypeachh "Four years after the breakup that broke Steve Harrington, he's face to face with Eddie at a New Year's Eve party." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

The Dearest and Best by emchant3d | @emchant3d "Eddie never second guessed that Wayne had him. Always. No matter what. Until he was gone." Mature | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Eddie & Wayne, Steddie

sometimes by kas_eddie_munson | @kas-eddie-munson "And he knew, really, it was silly. But he thought maybe he could get bits and pieces of that if not the whole thing. Maybe he would never have his dream job, but he could do something similar. Play his guitar at bars on the weekend, teach kids music lessons, or work at a record shop. Maybe he would never find someone who could put up with all his dramatics and energy full time, but he’d have a girlfriend, eventually, for a while. And here he was. Couldn’t even sell weed anymore, couldn’t get out of bed without help sometimes, could barely get out of the house without help, certainly couldn’t drive. The new trailer didn’t even have steps, it had ONE step. And that was enough to stop him from moving up and down with a wheelchair. ONE step. ~~~ Or, everything is different after Vecna. Eddie Munson's body will never be the same, and neither will he." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

Follow Your Heart by steddiecameraroll | @steddiecameraroll "Eddie’s not paying attention to where he’s walking when he bumps into someone coming out of a coffee shop. “Oh,” Eddie steps back and opens his mouth to apologize, when he looks up to see who he’d crashed into. “You ok?” The man asks. Eddie tries to respond, wants to respond, opens his mouth to respond but the quirk in the man’s smile is taunting him. It’s connected to a face that could make a man weak in the knees, in fact it’s doing just that right now. -or- Eddie keeps seeing a man he bumped into and for some reason can't stop thinking about him." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

don't say nothing's wrong by MomotoneScreaming | @momotonescreaming "“If you’re gonna continue to bully me, dude,” Steve starts, brows furrowing; lips pursed in a tight, angry line. “I don’t think I want to be your friend anymore.” or A Dustin Henderson character analysis" Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steve & Dustin

safe and sound by sidekick_hero | @sidekick-hero "What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives?" Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

I Love You (it's ruining my life) by LadySlytherin "Steve Harrington is three years old the first time he coughs up a flower petal. He's nineteen when he learns the flowers in his lungs are finally killing him. Sometimes, things are more complicated than they seem...and sometimes, they're a whole lot simpler." Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | Chapters: 3/3 | Steddie

you still dance but you're out of time by Atalia_Gold | @ataliagold "“Because what, Steve?” Oh, he’s dropped the Harrington now, and Steve knows he’s fucked, knows Hopper’s not going to back off. “Because I can’t fucking sleep, ok?” Steve whispers, his voice hoarse and broken. “When I do, I dream about…about the fucking Upside Down, about my friends dying, about me being too slow to save them, and I wake up screaming. And I can hardly get to sleep anyway because these,” Steve yanks his three layers up, reveals the marred skin on his sides, “keep me awake.” Hopper’s face is stony, unreadable. For a moment, Steve feels some sick kind of gratification that he’s managed to render the man speechless. That he’s made somebody care. ***** Until now, nobody's worked out that Steve's essentially homeless, living in his car. But one night, when Steve's cold and alone and in pain, Hopper chances across him." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie, Steve & Hopper

I read so many other fics over the course of 2024. Unfortunately, I am the kind of person who often doesn't use their brain or resources, so I didn't bookmark everything I read over the whole year. Anyway. Hopefully, this new year will be better for us all—even if you thought 2024 was your best, may it get better anyway—and also, of course, may Steve/Eddie stay in our brains and hearts.

I've had such a fun year writing. (For Christ's sake, I wrote over 100 fics like I was going to die at any moment.) And I've already got a few fics coming out within the first two weeks of January. Also, so many other fics planned out for the rest of the year; as well as fics that I'd like finish—looking at you, Mer Steve, my Stommy fic, and Single Parent Eddie/Hairstylist Steve. I'm sure I'll be a mess of words all year, hair wild as I try to complete challenges, but it's fun at the end.

Love y'all, thank you for a marginally great 2024! Seriously, 2025, please be better for my soul.

[dexastres]

sweet melody, jude bellingham, part one

summary : elena wants revenge on her ex-boyfriend, who cheated on her, and jude will help her.

wc : 1083

Jude let out a long sigh. After a long and exhausting day, he had decided to go out with Aurélien and Eduardo. However, the young Englishman found the evening rather boring. He was sitting in his corner, drinking the drink a girl had offered him earlier. The taste disgusted him so much that he winced after every sip. But Jude couldn’t bring himself to throw it away, so he endured it until he couldn’t take it anymore.

After drinking a little more of this unidentifiable concoction, the young man put his glass on the table and looked around for his friends, but to no avail. He sighed again and stood up. This evening was a waste of time, and Jude would rather go home. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted his driver, asking if he could come and get him. Just as he was about to hit the “send” button, he bumped into someone. Both young men apologised and went their separate ways.

As Jude approached the bar, a group of girls passed by, and one of them caught his eye. She wore a navy-blue satin mini-dress that hugged her curves perfectly. She had the most radiant smile the Englishman had ever seen, and her hair cascaded down her back, swaying with every movement. A smile spread across his face. He couldn’t look away, mesmerised by her beauty. He could’ve stared at her for hours, days, even years without getting bored.

“Stunning. Dazzling. Magnificent.” Jude whispered as he sat on a stool while the young woman made her way to the dance floor with her friends. 

“I can stay a little longer” He thought before erasing the message he was about to send to his driver.

On the dance floor, Elena swept her eyes around the room, desperately searching for Alejandro, her ex, but he remained out of sight. She started to wonder if her friend didn’t come up with another plan to convince her to go out with them. After all, since her breakup with him, she rarely left her house, except for work and school.

Again tonight, the young woman planned to stay home and enjoy the fact that she would spend the weekend alone, since her parents were at her little brother’s tournament in another city. All she wanted was to eat ice cream while watching her favourite rom coms. However, her plans changed when she received a message from her friends saying they had seen him enter the nightclub with his friends. Elena dropped what she was doing, ran to her room, put on her prettiest dress, the one he loved most, and took the first taxi to the address her friends had given her.

Elena wanted to show Alejandro what he had lost and make him regret cheating on her. But as nerves set in, she began to second-guess her decision. She dreaded the moment she would see him, and thinking about him brought back painful memories. And now, she wanted to go back home and let the tears she’d been holding back for a while.

Alejandro was her first love—the person with whom Elena had shared countless memories, immense trust, and unconditional affection. She had given him her love, but what had she received in return? A broken heart and trust issues. The young woman hated herself for thinking he would be different from the others who tried to come into her life. She felt stupid for letting her guard down and regretted naively believing his promises. She hated him and wanted him out of her life, but he kept haunting her mind. 

“Will he talk to me if he sees me? Does he have a girlfriend? Does he think about me sometimes? No, I should stop thinking about him. I should enjoy the night. That’s why I’m here.” She thought and sighed.

Elena looked at her friends, they seemed to enjoy the evening without a care in the world. Dancing as if there were no tomorrow, letting the music guide their bodies with smiles. Despite all these people surrounding her on the dance floor, Elena had never felt so alone. Her vision became blurry, a tear rolled down her cheek, and another followed. She slipped away from the dance floor to lock herself in the nearest bathroom.

At the bar, Jude was chatting with the bartender, a friendly middle-aged man named Enrique, who was entertaining him with his crazy stories. The young man, with his glass of water in his hand, laughed heartily, almost forgetting his friends’ absence. 

“Hey, isn’t that the girl you’ve been looking at all evening?” Enrique asked, pointing to Elena as he wiped the counter. Jude quickly turned in her direction, but his mood shifted when she passed next to him. The young man’s brow furrowed. He sensed that something was wrong. She was staring at the floor, not wanting anyone to see the tears streaming down her face and ruining her makeup. Elena felt humiliated. She disliked showing vulnerability in front of people.

Before reaching the bathrooms, she bumped into someone. She apologised and looked up at the person in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, everything around her fell silent. The music that filled the room had become background noise, dull and distant. Breathing had become complicated, and her tears turned into a torrent. She looked like a mess in front of him while he stood there in all his glory, looking down at her.

“Hey, Elena, it’s been a while. How are you?” She stared at him. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The words she had just heard hung in the air, sharp, and cold.

“I like your dress, by the way. Did you wear it for me?” He asked, smirking. Elena blinked in disbelief. Her sadness turned into anger. She wanted to wipe the cocky smile off his face. She didn’t reply and pushed open the bathroom door, reminding herself of her initial reason for coming. She walked to the mirror, not caring about the two people making out in the first bathroom stall.

“If you think you can just come into my life and destroy everything, you’re mistaken, Alejandro. I’ll make you eat your words and all the things you’ve said to me. I’ll show you that I’m not just a stupid rag doll you can manipulate as you wish.” Elena said, wiping off her tears and reapplying lipstick.

"I'll get my revenge, one way or another."

[0dde11eth]

Joey batey's birthday today so I thought I'd do a birthday story.

One year a few days before jaskiers birthday they get hired to hunt a Griffin. It seems to be a straightforward contract: find the nest. Kill the Griffin, return back into civilization in time for jaskier to party his still-hasnt-aged-a-day ass off at his birthday celebrations

Unfortunately, this hunt goes wrong. (don't they always?).

First of all, it's not a Griffin they are hunting down, it turns out to be a pair. Second, the nest is impossible to find, even with Geralt’s tracking skills.

The days pass quickly, and jaskiers' birthday approaches rapidly. Geralt offers to bring jaskier back to the city so he can still celebrate while Geralt continues the hunt. Jaskier refuses to leave geralts' side, and they continue to search.

On the day of his birthday they find the nest and Geralt completes the contract, unfortunately it's late in the day and they have no chance to make it back to the city in time.

Jaskiers quiet that evening as they set up camp. He's also quiet over dinner. It is driving Geralt crazy. He feels as though he ruined jaskiers birthday, if he was a better witcher, he would have found the nest sooner and jaskier would be able to get the celebration he deserves, surrounded by his adoring fans. Instead, he's in the middle of a forest with a grumpy witcher, no alcohol, no guests, no presents, not even a cake!

Geralt pauses... he does still have that honey cake hidden in his bag.. it's probably stale and squished, but it'll be a sweet treat. Maybe if Geralt gives it to jaskier, it'll make the bard happy? And he'll start talking and singing again? It's worth a try.

Geralt retrieves the little cake from his bag and sits next to jaskier, "Here, i know it's not nearly as grand as you deserve, but i wanted you to have something sweet for your special day."

Jaskiers face lights up, "oh thank you dear witcher! I was just thinking about the bakery in oxenfurt and all the treats we need to sample next time we are out that way!"

Geralt isn't finished, he casts igni, just a small flame on the tip of his finger. "Here, blow it out and make a wish."

Jaskier laughs in delight. He closes his eyes, wiggles his nose and crosses his fingers on both hands and blows out the 'candle'.

They split the cake, enjoying the slightly stale dessert, and licking their fingers after to catch any lingering taste.

Geralt bumps jaskier with his shoulder, "what did you wish for?"

Jaskier rests his head on geralts shoulder, "can't say, or it won't come true"

Geralt hums softly. "Happy birthday Jask"

(Jaskier wished that they'll always be together, and have more days just like this one)

[mxnhoo]

about you. (n. rk) | chapter 1

chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | epilogue | masterlist synopsis working in a cafe after being discharged wasn't that easy, but you managed to adapt and eventually became one of the best employees. however, as you talk to one of your colleagues, you obtain knowledge of your past and a mystery person you just couldn't remember. just.. who.. was this person? featuring woonhak (boynextdoor) genre mystery, the past warnings breakdowns, mild language, mentions of hospitals, trust issues, mentions of death word count 2.5k

1 | a glimpse

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled up the bustling cafe, that had many different people. They had their different reasons for being here, whether if it was to catch up with friends like the girls sitting by the window, or to complete their work like the man sitting in the opposite corner, or if it was to work and serve coffee to others, like you.

You wiped your sweat, proud of all the work you've done even when you just punched in about an hour ago. You've only recently joined this cafe a while ago and yet you were already known as one of the best employees, another reason being was that you had just gotten discharged from the hospital not long ago, hence proving how capable you were.

You felt your shoulder get pushed forward, and your neck immediately tilted to the side, seeing your colleague, Woonhak, struggle as he carries a box. "Sorry!"

Without wasting a second, you immediately turned around and assisted in carrying the box, reducing the weight that Woonhak has to take by himself. Confusion flickered in his face but is immediately replaced with gratitude as he flashes you his smile. "Thanks, Y/N".

"Anytime, Hak".

You stepped backwards cautiously as you turned to make sure you don't bump or knock anything over. You licked your lips as you focused on walking properly, and you heard Woonhak. "This will be enough, thank you!".

You quickly looked back and together, the both of you squatted and lowered the box to the ground. You dusted off your hands and the little boy exhaled, a proud expression on his face.

"Did you think you could carry that alone?" you teased, patting his head. He furrowed his brows and pouted, almost looking like a chihuahua as he retorted. "Hey, I'm not a kid! I.."

He cleared his throat before continuing, "could've done that by myself". He looked slightly awkward as he pursed his lips for a moment. "I'm a man, 'kay! I can do things myself".

You looked at his gleeful expression and your heart melted — he was adorable. You patted his head and slightly giggled, "Sure, whatever you say, Hak".

He whined and was about to continue defending himself and proving that he was a man, but the voice of your manager quickly cut your conversation short, causing both of your heads to snap at his direction. "Y/N, Woonagi, break time! Chop chop, we need you back before peak hours yeah!".

You blew out air, relieved that it was finally time to rest after working so hard since your shfit started. Woonhak whined even more, causing you to burst out laughing. "Don't baby me and don't call me Woonagi!".

"Thanks for the meal!"

You broke off your chopsticks as you leaned back on your chair, seeing Woonhak's ecstatic expression as he looked at the food you were treating him. You two were eating ramen from the restaurant down the street, and the aroma of the freshly cooked noodles completely invaded your nose.

It was the smell of good soup, fresh meat and noodles and you couldn't wait to devour your food. He quickly took his wooden chopsticks and without wasting a second, he broke the chopsticks to half and started to devour the food.

You two slurped down on your food, filling up your empty stomachs as the food satisfied your taste buds — you almost wished that you got infinite ramen since it tasted so scrumptious. Not even 10 minutes later, the teenager boy sitting opposite of you can be seen holding up the bowl to his mouth and drinking the leftover soup, placing his bowl down and licking his mouth.

He beamed gleefully, "Thanks for the meal, Y/N!". You still had half of your bowl left, so you nodded. "If you wanna order sides, you can".

Upon hearing your approval to order more dishes using your money, he exclaimed and quickly raised his hand while calling out for the waiter.

"Say, Y/N, how are you so good at your job?"

You raised your eyebrow at the sudden question. You'd just finished wiping your mouth after finishing your bowl, "What're you talking about?".

"Like, you've only been here for like, how long? A month? And you're literally like the best?"

You quickly shook your hands and head, wanting to completely deny his compliment though you definitely felt flattered. "What are you saying? I just do my job—"

"What I mean is like.. you've been through so much. Being discharged from 2 hospitals isn't that easy, y'know?"

You were caught off-guard by the reminder that you indeed have been through a lot. And what pains you even more is that you don't remember a single thing of your life before it. You've been to a general hospital to recover from an incident you irritatingly can't recall, then shifted to a mental hospital.

You always asked so many questions, but none were answered no matter how much you tried. All the people that claimed to be your friends — heck, it was miserable that you couldn't confirm if they really were because you have no memory prior.

Family? For all you know, you had none. Your dad had passed away, and you were pretty sure your mom was still alive, but she has yet to make an appearance in your life. You weren't exactly sure if you had siblings, but even if you wanted to ask there'd be no one to answer you.

You eventually grew accustomed to it, really, though it was miserable.

"Nothing happened, really," you brushed off his concern. "As long as you stay strong and push through, you can get through anything".

Woonhak's face which had a pensive expression quickly lit up after hearing your powerful words. "I knew you were always a strong person," he commented.

You immediately felt confusion struck you. Tilting your head, you questioned. "What are you talking about?". You furrowed your eyebrows, anticipating to his answer.

"I've seen you come into the cafe long before, and you've always given out the strong image!" he replied and your eyes widened. You finally had someone who had an idea of who you were before you completely lost your memory.

"What are you talking about..?"

"Y'know! I've been working here for a while, and I've served you a couple of times," he confessed, and you almost thought he was speaking gibberish from how unreal it sounded.

You clasped your hands together and leaned forward, wanting to know more. "What else did I do?".

The boy hummed, leaning backwards to the cushion and placing his finger on his mouth as he tried to recall. "You came often with someone".

"Someone?!"

"A boy. A tall guy. If I remember correctly, he has black wavy hair?".

"Do you remember his name?!" you slammed your hands on the table and leaned forward, accidentally startling him. You realised that you'd overreacted and you slowly leaned backwards, "Sorry..".

"I-it's okay. Urhm, I don't think I know his name because he'd always use his initials for his name".

"What are his initials?"

"N, R, K" he said, his speech choppy as he articulated each letter.

N R K..

You wondered what name it could've been. Who they were in your life and where were they now?

"N.. N.. N.." you mumbled to yourself, staring into blank space as you tried to think about names that started with 'N'. Was N a first name? A surname?

"Noah? Nathan?" you continued talking to yourself, but you made no progress, you only felt you jaw clench and chest tighten.

"Nolan.. Noe—"

"Y/N!"

The sharp voice made you snap out of it and you immediately looked around to see who called for you. You didn't realise you were slightly shaking and that your breathing pattern was irregular, and when you saw your manager's face, you started to calm down. You expected him to be livid because you weren't doing your job, but there was a stark contrast on his face.

He seemed concerned for you instead, placing a hand that was firm yet comforting on your shoulder. "Are you okay? Do you need to go home first?".

You stared at his worried eyes for a second, fully realising what the situation was. Slowly, you gave him a soft smile while shaking your head slightly. "I'm okay".

His hand slowly slipped away from your shoulder, his hand turning into a pointed finger towards you. "If you faint here, I'm not gonna drag you outta here, got it? Leave if you have to".

You sighed and nodded as he nagged you. You knew he was joking and you secretly felt warmth in your heart as you knew he did care about you. "Got that," you smiled.

"Name for your drink?" you asked, holding a cup holder and a marker, ready to jot down their name.

"Ricky".

At the sound of that name, your breath hitched and your chest ached, causing your face to crinkle. You accidentally dropped the marker, startling both you and the customer. "I-I- so sorry, give me a second..".

You squatted down to pick the marker up, feeling as cold beads of sweat formed on your temples. You looked back up and it was a tall man that had wavy hair, just as Woonhak had described.

You just couldn't help but blurt out in desperation, "Are your initials 'N' 'R' 'K' by any chance?!". You observe his stunned expression, watching his lips as you anticipate to his answers.

You bit your lip, feeling the anxiety flood in. The man spoke, "Uhm, no?". You sighed as you felt the disappointment sink in. You averted your gaze back to the cup holder, writing the customer's name down.

Riki.

The man noticed your writing and pointed a finger, "Ah, it's 'R' 'I' 'C' 'K' 'Y', not like that".

"Ah.." you muttered, realising your mistake. You immediately crossed out the name with wrong spelling and corrected yourself. You apologised, "Sorry about that".

You looked at the man who had a closed-lip smile, looking around the room as he waited for you. You immediately gestued him, "You can sit down and wait and we'll call out your name".

He nodded and turned his back, settling down at a table that was just right in front.

That was weird, why'd you spell his name wrong when it was so simple? You huffed as you softly slapped yourself, mentally telling yourself to 'get it together'. You walked over to the prep station to get his order ready.

For the rest of your shift, you've been flinching to customers whenever they said names that started with 'N', in hopes that the person would magically appear right before your eyes, but to no avail. You've asked every single customer about their initials, and they've only given you weirded and puzzled faces.

You felt determined to hunt down this msytery person, because this person could be the key to finding out what the hell happened in your life before you lost all your memory.

It was 2 hours to closing, and the sun had already started to set. The warm orange light of the cafe helped to keep the cafe bright. Woonhak was beside you in silence, brewing his own drink as you started to stare into blank space once again, feeling helpless about the whole situation.

The cafe had softer chatters compared to earlier, since there were lesser customers. You were about to brush away the whole 'finding-someone-from-their-initials' plan until you looked outside your cafe windows and saw it.

A glimpse.

A glimpse of someone who had black wavy hair walking past your cafe was all it took.

It was all it took for you to stop caring about everthing. For you to leave the counter, step outside the shop as Woonhak and your other colleagues calls back for you in utter confusion. Their voices slowly fade as the entrance bell rings and the door closes.

You breathed out, feeling the chilly air blow against you as you hastily tried to locate where this person was. You felt the need to find follow this person and your body was moving as if it had a mind of its' own.

You didn't know what his initials were — what his name even was. Fuck, you didn't even know who the hell he was, but you knew it.

You knew it was him.

The streets were still bustling with people even if the sun has set, increasing the difficulty of finding whoever the man is, but as you followed your gut feeling and continued walking forward, you spotted his hair poke out from the crowd.

Without hesitation, you immediately start walking. Jogging, running even. You mindlessly bumped into people, not even apologising as your eye remained glued to this man. You ran without ever looking back.

"Please, please!" you called out, hoping the man would stop but the people near you simply stopped to give you a weird look.

You cried in desperation and you weren't exactly sure why. Your heart ached in a way you never knew it could. "Stop!"

You stopped in the middle of the pavement, feeling completely helpless as you suddenly felt the tears forming in your eyes. Why were you sad? Fuck, why were you even crying?

You were so confused, you wanted so many answers, but you don't even know what questions to ask. The people around you seemed concerned, a few stopping and it was visible that they were having a debate in their heads whether they should approached you, but all of them eventually just went on with their way.

Your chest continued to ache and you bit your lip, holding back your whimpers as you grab your chest in an attempt to soothe the pain. Your grip was so tight on your shirt that your hand starts to shake and your vision gets blurry from all the tears, and as your vision was about to turn completely black, you felt it.

A hand touched your shoulder, and it was almost as if the touch was magical, because you felt your body physically wake up. With your tears still rolling down, you slowly turned around to see who'd touch your shoulder, and it was him.

The same black wavy hair you saw walking past your shop. You stared for a second to process what the fuck was happening, and he took this time to wipe your tears away. His hands— they were so cold you almost shivered but yet they provided you with a warmth in your chest you've never felt before.

His voice was deep, and you felt like it provided so much comfort. "Don't cry anymore".

Your breath hitched as you tried to catch your breath after almost breaking down and your hand's grip on your shirt slowly loosened. You wanted to hold him too, share your pain with him, but as you blinked, he was gone.

Gone. Disappeared as if he was never even there in the first place.

You had no clue what was going on.

Your head became light and started spinning, and before you knew it, your head hit the ground. Despite your vision being blurred, you could see people immediately stop and try to help you. You almost couldn't tell if that was Woonhak in front of you shouting desperately, but everything sounded so muffled and you couldn't even hear properly.

Your eyelids grew heavy and eventually, your vision turns black.

cly's note HAPPY NEW YEAR! hope everyone's 2025 started off right, and im gifting everyone the first chapter of about you. kinda different from the type of stories i write, but regardless i hope this was okay and ya'll enjoyed it! a start for my series, hope ya'll can stick to the end <3 also my biggest inspiration for this is (still) @/maatryoshkaa cos of their young god series (maybe yall can read it after yall finish this chapter LOL). take care everyone and always stay healthy!

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[teamdarkdaily]

i have a bunch of kind asks that i'll be answering below the cut to try and keep this blog as tidy as i can!

@badjokesandbones Thank you for sticking with me for it! though the daily updates are over, i'll still definitely be drawing sonic (and other stuff) over on my main account (@frostios) if youd like to keep up with what I'm doing!

thank you so much for the kind words!!! theres definitely a reason daily art blogs are dropped pretty frequently, its sooo hard to do and keep up with. But the experience of trying it is awesome and i think anyone who has the desire to try should do it, even if it only gets like 5 days in!

@alliecat-0317 Thank you!! I'm so happy that I was able to turn this blog into something that could do more, the donation weeks are what truly pushed me all the way through to the end. Again, thank you so much for supporting the dono the weeks!!

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Haha, that's very kind of you to say! Thank you so much!

@soxinthesun I hadn't even considered this being a blog thats been with people since they first got into the fandom, that makes me really happy to hear :'] Keep enjoying team dark and I hope you keep having a nice time in the community! Thank you!

[scarletwinterxx]

NCT Mark | New Year's Day

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The clock ticks closer to midnight, and the rooftop hums with a crackling energy that only New Year’s Eve can bring.

Strings of fairy lights dangle above, casting a golden glow over Jaemin's sprawling rooftop garden, the perfect blend of chaos and charm. Your group of four fits neatly into this tiny world—Haechan perched on a rickety deck chair, waving a sparkling cider bottle like it’s champagne; Jaemin leaning against a small table laden with snacks, looking every bit the host he loves to be; and Mark, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, standing so close beside you that your shoulders occasionally bump.

"You know," Haechan starts, gesturing wildly with his cider bottle, "resolutions are capitalist propaganda. They're designed to make you feel bad about yourself so you buy gym memberships you’ll never use."

Jaemin arches a brow. "This coming from the guy who swore he'd start meal prepping last January and never made it past buying one Tupperware set."

"I did meal prep! Once. For a week!"

You snort. "You bought six packs of instant ramen and called it meal prepping."

Haechan gasps, clutching his chest. "Et tu, Brute? Betrayed by my favorite person on the roof!"

"Don't flatter yourself," Mark cuts in, his grin wide. "She’s only here because Jaemin bribed her with brownies."

"You’re here because I guilt-tripped you about missing my last party," Jaemin retorts, smirking.

You laugh, shaking your head as they banter, but you can’t help glancing at Mark out of the corner of your eye. His scarf is loosely wound, and the wind has turned his ears pink, but there’s something about him that’s magnetic tonight—or maybe it’s always been that way, and you’re just finally letting yourself admit it.

“Ten seconds!” Jaemin shouts suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

The crowd erupts into cheers, and a chorus of voices begins counting down.

“Ten!”

Mark shifts closer to you, brushing against your side. You glance up at him, heart beginning to race, but he’s already looking at you.

“Nine!”

Your friends chant along, but their voices sound distant now. Mark’s gaze feels like it’s holding you in place, anchoring you as the world speeds up around you.

“Eight!”

The air feels heavier, charged with something unspoken. His lips part as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out.

“Seven!”

“Mark,” you start, unsure what you even mean to say.

“Six!”

“Just trust me,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“Five!”

Your breath catches as he steps in even closer. You feel the weight of Jaemin and Haechan’s stares, but they don’t matter. Not right now.

“Four!”

He leans down slightly, his face inches from yours.

“Three!”

“Is this—?”

“Two!”

“Just go with it,” he says softly, and before you can even think of a reply—

“One!”

Cheers explode around you, firecrackers going off in the distance, but it all fades when Mark wraps his arms around you. It’s not a hurried hug—it’s firm, grounding, and the kind of warm you didn’t know you needed until now.

"Happy New Year," he whispers into your ear, his breath brushing against your cheek.

Before you can say it back, he tilts his head, and suddenly, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft, like the way the first snow falls—delicate and almost shy at first, but it deepens quickly, warmth spreading through you in waves.

You hear nothing but the rush of your heartbeat, feel nothing but him, and for a moment, it’s like time itself has stopped.

When he pulls back, his forehead presses against yours, and he’s grinning like an idiot, cheeks flushed from more than just the cold.

"I’ve wanted to do that for ages," he admits, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You blink at him, stunned and maybe a little dazed. "You couldn’t have told me sooner?"

His laugh rumbles in his chest, and he hugs you tighter. "Thought you’d figure it out eventually."

"FINALLY!" Haechan yells, breaking the spell. You whirl around, cheeks flaming, to see him dramatically throwing his arms in the air. "We’ve been waiting for this since summer! Honestly, I was starting to lose hope."

Jaemin claps slowly, smirking. "I feel like a proud parent. Or maybe a wedding officiant."

You groan, hiding your face in Mark’s chest. "This is so embarrassing."

Mark laughs, his arms staying firmly around you. "Hey, at least we gave them something to celebrate. Happy New Year, right?"

You peek up at him, your lips curving into a smile despite yourself. "Happy New Year, Mark."

And as the fireworks crackle overhead, you let yourself lean into him, knowing you’ve just stepped into a year you’ll never forget.

[dc418writes]

•A Simple Mistake•

✨Pairing✨: Francisco “Frankie” Moralesxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Frankie’s got some explaining to do

🚨: language, allusions to happy adult fun times (everyone please be safe!), mention of conning, stolen jewelry, ends in fluff🌸

A/N🎤: hello☺️! This is my submission to @beefrobeefcal ‘s Holiday Disaster Challenge (please everyone support the other submitted works!), and I hope yall enjoy what I came up with💕

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest. Also, although my writings are imagined with a black reader, everyone is welcomed to read and enjoy*

Prompt: Locked in a mall on Christmas

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid Frankie?!”

He cringes knowing you’d say that. He could practically hear it as he drove through the falling snow flurries as fast - yet carefully - as he could early this morning.

“Baby I know it sounds crazy-,”

“Then you bring a fruitcake as if that’ll magically erase everything?!”

He’ll admit that idea was a stretch. Shifting in his seat, he nervously chuckles raking his thick fingers through his coconut hair as he meets your heavily irritated eyes. “I know it’s your favorite so…”

A laugh burst from your lungs that’s everything but humorous as your hands briefly rest on the edge of the kitchen counter in front of you. Shaking your head, you can’t even look at him in fear of what your anger might make you do next. “I can’t believe you’re really trying to cute your way out of this.”

If only he’d gone to the mall at the beginning of the month - like his conscience told him - maybe none of this would’ve happened..

Walking through the busy mall, Frankie can’t help but bump into people with how packed it is. Every store nearly has a line flowing out the door filled with a mix of exhausted adults and wide eyed kids as Christmas music played overhead. Attempting to get their last requests in, kids lined up to see Santa with seemingly endless energy that even made him tired just watching as they bounced and giggled in line.

Frankie just hoped he could get your present quick to make it to your place in time. Your parents had just arrived in town the day before, and were waiting to meet the guy that had their daughter glowing and bubbly.

“I can’t wait for you guys to meet, everything’s gonna be great!,” you smiled sounding as excited as the kids in front of him.

For your sake, he hoped everything went well. Admittedly he didn’t have the best record with parents. Since he was a teen, there were a list of fathers that glared at him and mothers that, although sweet, were quick to try and point their daughter’s attention in a different direction. “He’s nice…but not for you sweetheart.”

“Everything’s gotta be perfect,” he thought to himself walking towards the kiosk he found online earlier. “Starting with this gift.

“Hey, could you uh fix this bracelet?,” he asks the bearded man in wire frames practically surrounded by glass cases. Different pieces of gold and silver jewelry shining under fluorescent lightbulbs as they sat on miniature white pillows.

“Hmm…looks like an easy fix,” he eventually replies after examining the vintage, gold piece encrusted in diamonds. It was your grandmother’s she personally passed down a couple years before her passing.

The night you finally decided to wear it - a date night with Frankie to a local lounge to be exact - the clasp broke preventing you from wearing it without it falling off.

“It’ll take about an hour or so. I can call you when it’s done.”

Frankie could do an hour. He’d have to go straight to the restaurant though not having any time to change, but at least he wouldn’t miss anything. “Yea sure that’s fine. Thanks for doing this man, I know it’s really last minute.”

The stranger just shrugs with a tilted smile, “Hey you need a service, I’m here.”

After giving his name and number, Frankie sought out somewhere less hectic than the nearby foodcourt where overly hyper kids could barely stay in their seats. All the massage chairs were out of the question being occupied by men - either sleeping or focused on their phones - waiting for their significant other.

That left the bathroom as his sanctuary.

Navy blue chair to match the peaceful lake scene framed on the sand colored wall, he let himself relax in the semi-private seating area with his legs crossed on the circular table in front of him and face hidden from the light by the black ball cap previously on his head of curls.

And maybe that was his true downfall of this whole ordeal seeing that he let himself get so relaxed that he fell asleep in that chair. It wasn’t until the next morning, Christmas morning, that he woke up to a security officer shaking his arm.

The man downstairs meant to help him gone and apparently never heard of whenever Frankie brought him up to the older officer.

Minutes later, after filling out an incident report, he was racing down the road with your four missed calls and 24 unread texts on his panicked mind. Not to mentioned your family heirloom stolen from right under his nose.

“Let me guess,” you begin crossing your arms against your chest with nostrils flared. One of the many tells of your anger he made sure to memorize. “Watching one of Ben’s fights with the boys, then out for drinks until you passed out at Pope’s and he gave you this insane story he was sure I’d believe.”

“You can call any of ‘em and they’ll tell you I wasn’t there,” he answers with brown eyes full of sorrow reminding you of a puppy in a window just wishing for a new home. Part of you desperately wants to believe him - that he didn’t stand up you and your parents out of malice - but the damage was already done and hurt set in too far.

“And them lying for you would never be a possibility right?”

He practically handed you the gasoline and lighter with that one. “Alright that happened once, but I swear on my mother’s grave-,”

“If you didn’t wanna meet my parents, all you had to do was say you weren’t ready,” you state. Your voice coming out shaky and eyes beginning to gloss unable to hold back your disappointment any further. “I get it. It’s stressful and comes with a lot of pressure trying to impress someone, but communicate that Frankie.”

Standing, he moves to your side carefully attempting to reach out for your arm but is unsurprised when you recoil moving a few steps away. “Baby I promise that wasn’t it.”

“Then what?!”

Before any of you can say more, a hard knock startles both you and your boyfriend. Both of your brown eyes looking towards the front door until a couple more knocks follow.

“Hold on!,” Frankie announces walking the short distance to the white door. Peeking through the peephole, he sees another officer waiting on the other side with hands on his hips.

“Who is it?,” you ask, but he holds up his hand signaling for you to wait.

“Morning officer, can we help you?” Admittedly, he was nervous one of your neighbors might’ve called because of the yelling.

“Morning and Merry Christmas,” he replies with a kind smile. “I’m officer Declan here for Francisco Morales..? I’m following up on an incident of a stolen bracelet.”

“Yea that’d be me,” he sighs. This definitely isn’t how he wanted you to find out.

“Bracelet?,” you ask striding to Frankie’s side with a confused tilt to your brows. “Frankie, what’s he talking about?”

“Looks like his is one of many cases in the area regarding the same man. He’s been conning people pretending as if he can fix jewelry. Tall, somewhat portly with a thick beard and blue eyes covered by wire glasses?”

Frankie nods. “You got him?”

“We did around six this morning.” That wasn’t too much earlier than when Frankie woke up in the mall. “He had a bit of an accident due to the ice on the road and tried running on foot. Many witnesses saw and were able to help him be captured along with some stolen jewelry.

Reaching in his pocket, he removes your bracelet in the same condition it was when he dropped it off much to his relief. “Is this yours?”

“Yes! Well hers actually, but yea,” he answers letting the officer drop it in his palm before turning it over to you. “Thank you so much.”

“Glad we could help! Oh, and we’ll get that loitering complaint with the mall sorted out too don’t worry Mr. Morales. And if you’d like to issue a counter-complaint with the mall-,”

“Wait…s-so you really got locked in the mall..,” you state now feeling like the bitchiest bitch to ever bitch. And on Christmas!

“Told you I knew it sounded crazy,” Frankie painfully smiles turning his attention back to the man at his front door. “Thanks again for all your help. You and the department both.”

“We’re always here to help. If you need anything else, just call the station and ask for me. You two have a great holiday.”

With a polite nod to both of you, Officer Declan was gone down the hall back to his squad car and you utterly guilty for your earlier outburst.

“So that’s why you were at the mall. To get my bracelet fixed…,” you quietly state following him back to the kitchen.

“Yea, and I fell asleep waiting for that ass to get done but then it was morning and he was long gone.”

“Aww my poor baby.” He softly chuckles as you cling to the front of him with arms tightly wrapped around his middle. “What kind of security doesn’t check in the bathroom at closing? And then to say you were loitering?!”

“It’s alright-,”

“No it’s not!,” you counter looking up at your too sweet of a boyfriend. “Wait till I get down there, they’ll regret even letting you in the mall when I’m done! Then you should sue!”

“Baby it’s really not that serious,” he chuckles pecking your heated forehead until that line in the middle disappeared. “I’m fine, made it home. Just a crazy story that hopefully your parents won’t try to kill me over.”

“They won’t because I won’t let them. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

He shrugs soothingly rubbing along your back. “You believe me now though. That’s all that matters.”

“I still shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Wasn’t the first. Probably won’t be the last.” That makes you both laugh continuing to hold each other.

“And thank you for trying to get my bracelet fixed,” you speak after you’ve both calmed down. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. I hate I nearly lost it forever though.”

“But it was found! And to further show my appreciation and how sorry I am, I ask that you let me treat you for the day.” The way your voice turns more sultry and eyes hazy, he can read between the lines for what that means but he still likes to hear the exact words from your full lips.

“And how exactly would you do that?,” he asks tightening his grip on your hips as his voice deepens that way you like.

“However you want,” you whisper.

As promised, Frankie had the say of whatever he wanted, which led to you have to reschedule with your parents for tomorrow afternoon. And if he hadn’t before, by the end of the night while he held your sleeping and sated body close, Frankie believed in Christmas miracles.

[leifygreeens]

🎄 Secret Santa Fic Exchange 🎄

@nebraskashouse I hope you enjoy this, as belated as it is—and don't fret, the second part of this lovely little fic is on its way.

@loverboykirstein and @snailmail444 also posted some very delicious fics of their own for the season, you can find them here and here. Minors, do not interact with either of them, thank you. And as always, thanks to @lendelleaves for being my best friend and editor in chief. Would not be nearly as in love with this if it weren't for him.

2300~ words, Harvey/Fem!Farmer, SoftDom!Harvey, praise kink

Enjoy <3

The Farmer stands just a few feet away, readjusting the ornaments and tucking garlands higher or lower within the branches of their tree. She steps away with a sigh, clearly frustrated, and props her hands on her hips.

Harvey watches quietly for a moment, admiring the soft slope of the Farmer’s back beneath the hideous Christmas sweater she’d picked out for herself. It's a prickly woolen fabric, with the word ‘Naughty’ sprawled across the chest in an even pricklier red tinsel, made to match his much softer and more pleasant sweater, which reads ‘Nice’ in a perfectly comfortable embroidery thread. Then he sets his #1 Doctor mug on the coffee table with a soft thunk. 

He gets up from the couch with a grunt, too quiet to catch her attention when she’s so preoccupied, and he takes advantage of her focus being elsewhere to slip his arms around her waist.

She sinks into him immediately, and he presses a kiss against her head, just behind her ear. The wool scratches against Harvey's wrists, but he doesn’t move.

“Dear, if you keep glaring at the tree like that you’re going to set it on fire,” he whispers.

“Sorry,” she mutters, curling her warm palms over his forearms and squeezing. He shakes his head and pulls her closer.

“Talk to me.” He bumps his nose against the curve of her jaw, just above her pulse point, and smiles when she shivers at the brush of his facial hair against her skin. “Tell me what's bothering you.”

“Nothing,” she says quickly, and Harvey frowns. “It’s just—it’s dumb.”

He watches the side of her face intently, studying the curve of her cheek, the swoop of her eyelashes, and the downturn of her mouth. He knows she knows that he’s watching, but she won’t meet his eyes. Harvey thinks that’s probably okay. He can still work with that.

He pulls back and presses a lingering kiss to her shoulder, just above the collar of her sweater. “You know I’ll never get tired of listening to you.”

“Careful… too much encouragement and I might start waxing poetic about the fermentation process for wine,” she jokes, and Harvey laughs, because he is a weak, weak man.

He hums, his smile turning soft. “Don’t go threatening me with a good time.”

“Well, if you insist,” she starts, taking a big breath, and Harvey spins her around before she can launch into a lecture on the intricacies of sugar and its effect on alcohol content.

The Farmer tastes like gingerbread and espresso.

Kissing her is easy, is comfortable. It always has been, even the first time when he was five hundred feet in the air and his heart was threatening to jump out of his chest and crash back to earth without him. She makes him feel brave, and his feet are on the ground right now, but he might as well be floating among the stars with how light his chest feels.

The Farmer wraps her arms over his shoulders with a contented sigh, and he follows her lead easily, dropping his hands down to her waist. The fabric is rough against his palms, and he wrinkles his nose.

“You really don’t like the sweater, huh?” she asks, grinning—and forcing him to pull away, lest he kiss her teeth.

“Of course I do.” Harvey bunches the horrendous fabric in his fists, and yanks her right up against him. His smile turns wolfish at her gentle yelp. “I love everything you wear.”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit.” She smirks as he shoves his hands under the fabric to grab at her waist properly.

“Language, dear,” Harvey whispers, and then he kisses her deeply. The warmth of her skin burns him alive. She makes a tiny sound, barely perceptible in the depth of her chest, and Harvey breathes in harshly through his nose before pulling a hair’s breadth away. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“Funny,” she says, carding her fingertips through the baby hairs on his nape. “I thought that was what you were trying to do.” 

She tugs him down for another kiss, and Harvey groans, squeezing the Farmer’s sweet waist and—focus, damn it.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, honey. Please.” Harvey tugs himself away only to press their foreheads back together. She frowns through half-lidded eyes, and then sighs heavily. 

“It feels like something is missing,” she mumbles, turning to face the tree. He follows her gaze to it.

Glittering garlands swoop through the branches, and sparkly plastic ornaments peek through the pine needles, flickering with the reflections of warm white lights. The tree skirt is a deep red velvet flecked with gold embroidery—a gift from Emily. It’s a good height, and the branches are full and green, green, green.

By all standards, it’s the perfect Christmas tree.

Harvey’s eyes flick to the very top, and—ah.

Harvey smiles fondly, amusement coloring his voice as he whispers against the shell of her ear: “I think I might know what’s missing.” 

“Are you laughing at me? In my time of need?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at him and doing a very good job of pretending to be outraged. Harvey chuckles low in his chest and kisses her cheek.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harvey promises, gently lifting her chin upward with the first knuckle of his index finger. “I was just thinking of how silly Santa would look without his hat.”

She goes still as she takes in the top of the Christmas tree. 

It is perfectly barren—not a star in sight—and Harvey grins as she drops her head back against his shoulder with a groan. “I knew I forgot something!”

Harvey chuckles heartily, and turns her face toward him so he can kiss the disappointed pout off of her lips.

“It’s a lovely tree nonetheless, honey,” Harvey says. “But I’m sure there’s something in the house that you could use instead of a star, if you wanted.”

“Will you help me look?” She asks, blinking her pretty eyes up at him, and his chest floods with warmth.

“Anything for you,” he promises, leaning down to press a long kiss to her cheek. “I’ll check the bedroom.”

Then he steps away, (albeit regretfully,) and makes his way down the hall.

The smell of cinnamon and sugar are thick even in here, and Harvey takes a deep breath in before crossing their plush rug and tugging open their closet. They may not have stars, but he has bow-ties and regular ties and he knows for certain that there’s ribbon leftover from when they were wrapping presents earlier that week.

Lo and behold, it doesn’t take him more than a minute before he’s walking back with several different options in his hands, all just as festive as the tree itself. He almost cringes at the patterns, actually. It’s a miracle the Farmer thought he was attractive when he was wearing such goofy-looking ties all the time.

“Honey, I think I found a couple things that could work!” He calls down the hall. He stops in the threshold a moment later to find her dragging the kitchen stool in front of the tree.

“So did I,” she says, holding up a pair of reindeer antler clips. “What do you think?”

“A reindeer tree?” He drops the ribbons and ties on the coffee table as he crosses the room. “Sure, why not?”

“Is that okay?” Her voice turns small, and Harvey presses a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.

“It’s adorable, and I love it. Do you want help putting them on?” 

“Could you hold me?” She steps up onto the stool. “I don’t know how sturdy this thing is.”

Harvey settles his hands low on her hips.

She carefully clips one antler around a branch, making sure it sits upright, and then attaches the second one on the opposite side. The antlers are a good size, not too heavy but not too small, and she pulls her hands away to admire her handiwork. 

Then her smile turns sharp.

“What are you scheming now, you little devil?” Harvey asks, fond, but maybe scared, maybe just a little.  He'd count himself a fool if he wasn't.

She peers down at the tree, and he pays her rapt attention as she points at the lower branches. “Could you give me that ornament, down there? The bright red one?”

He nods and reaches for the glittering bauble.

Harvey pauses. Looks up at her.

“You’re not.”

Her grin widens. “Give it to me and find out.”

He shakes his head and slides the ornament off of the branch, careful not to break any needles with the metal hook, and places it in her waiting palm. She gives him a satisfied nod, and then hooks it around the tree, just under the antlers.

“Perfect.” She adjusts the ornament again, though he can't see why. “What do you think?”

“Rudolph the red-nosed Christmas tree.” Harvey squeezes her hip. “Cute.”

The reflections of the lights dance in her eyes, smoldering, like embers in a fireplace. Harvey licks his lips; he doesn’t fight the smile that spreads over his face, when she tracks the movement with catlike attention.

“Well,” she says, barely more than a breath. “As long as you like it.”

Foolish of her to think he could do anything else. He’s obsessed: every thought, every movement, every word out of her mouth is like a gentle caress against his soul. 

He reminds her of this quietly. “I love everything you do.”

“Do you, now?” she asks, and the words are teasing while her tone is anything but. Harvey’s fingers twitch against the waistline of her plush pajama pants. The soft white fabric would look so lovely crumpled on the floor…or dangling from her ankles. He’s not picky.

“You don’t believe me?” Harvey drags one palm down her thigh, and squeezes the muscle there. It's a question, too.

The Farmer steadies herself on his shoulder and bends down to press a long kiss against his brow bone. The hunger in him simmers, and he closes his eyes to lean into the warmth.

“I believe you,” the Farmer’s lips brush against his skin, featherlight and tickling his hairline as she moves to whisper in his ear: “But could you prove it to me again?”

Gladly.

She huffs a laugh, and he wonders if he’d said it out loud.

“Go to the bedroom,” Harvey says, pitching his voice low, and gravelly, just the way she likes it.

Her breath catches, shivering against the shell of his ear and making his hair stand on end. She listens, pulling away slowly and stepping down from the stool. Only when her feet meet the carpet does she look up at him again, her eyes desperate and eager and not at all like those she fixed on him a mere two minutes ago.

He knows that look.

“Meet me on the bed. Keep everything on.” Harvey curls his hand over the back of her neck and drags her up into a heated kiss. He pulls away, sooner than he'd like to, feeling hungry, almost starving.

She swallows harshly, the blush on her cheeks sending jolts through him. “Am I allowed to touch myself?”

Fuck, what a question. “Do you think you could last that long?”

A pause.

“No,” she whispers, and Harvey brushes his thumb over the swell of her bottom lip.

“Would you rather come on your own fingers? Do you think that would satisfy you?”

“No,” she hisses, her hands flying up to grab his wrist. Her voice is just as firm when she repeats, “No.”

Harvey chuckles and pats her ass, encouraging. “Go, then. I’ll be quick.”

She disappears down the hall in a blur of color and quick footsteps, and Harvey gets to work immediately. He doesn’t want to keep her waiting, lest she actually shove a hand down the front of her panties to find some semblance of relief. 

Or maybe she would just rub her pretty little thighs together, and she would never get enough of anything for it to matter—

His mouth goes bone dry, and he sets off for the kitchen with their empty mugs hooked on his fingers. He doesn’t bother washing them, just fills them both to the brim with scalding water to soak, and returns to the living area. The throw pillows on the couches are deflated, but he doesn’t bother fluffing them back up like he ordinarily would. He yanks the plug for the tree lights out of the socket, plunging the room into near darkness, and then marches down the hall.

The Farmer is at the edge of their bed, still fully clothed and white-knuckling the sheets on either side of her hips like a lifeline. So much restraint in those lovely eyes of hers, trying so hard to be good, to be patient. Harvey bites down on a noise that would have come out pained, and closes the door behind him.

“Beautiful,” he says, loud enough for her to hear. She shivers, a tempting blush blazing over her cheeks and the tips of her ears. The effect is near-instant, and Harvey almost laughs. He already knows the answer, but: “You didn’t touch yourself.”

She shakes her head quickly. “I didn’t want to… not without you.”

Harvey pushes off the door, and he thinks he must be going a little mad. He stops in front of her, right between the V of her legs where she’d spread them in anticipation. She cranes her neck back to look him in the eye, and Harvey cups her jaw. “Safe word?”

She sighs into his skin, and turns to kiss the heel of his palm. “Espresso.”

They’ve never needed it before, but he asks—reminds—her every time. Just in case.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, and leans down to give her what she's asked for.