#The idea came to me after we were joking around about it

[rose24207]

Simp sessions and sliding into DM’s

Summary: Y/N openly simps for Lando Norris during a Beta Squad video, and he surprises her by sliding into her DMs.

Genre: humor

TW: filly (?)

A/N: English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The Beta Squad filming day was already off to a chaotic start, as usual. Cameras were rolling, the boys were bantering, and you were doing what you did best: keeping them in check while simultaneously embarrassing yourself over Lando Norris.

You were the heart of the group—a mix of sass, sarcasm, and too much energy. But when it came to Lando? You couldn’t help yourself. The guys loved it, though, because your relentless simping made for prime content.

“Alright, next challenge,” Sharky announced as the crew prepped for the next scene. “We’ve got trivia, and the loser has to wear this ridiculous chicken suit for the rest of the video.”

“I am not losing this,” Chunkz said, crossing his arms.

“You better not,” AJ quipped. “Because we already know Y/N losing the second we bring up Formula 1.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “Listen, I might fail general trivia, but if the question’s about Lando Norris, I’ll ace it.”

“Of course you will,” Kenny teased, smirking at the camera. “You’d probably marry him if you could.”

“Who says I wouldn’t?” you shot back, flipping your hair dramatically. Then, looking directly into the lens, you added, “Lando, if you’re watching this, hi. I’m single, funny, and an excellent cook. Call me.”

The room erupted with laughter as the guys doubled over at your boldness.

“You’re shameless!” Niko said, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Don’t act like you’re not jealous,” you retorted, pointing at him. “Lando’s a catch, and I’m just shooting my shot.”

The filming continued, but the Lando jokes didn’t stop. Every time a question remotely related to racing or McLaren came up, you’d light up like a Christmas tree.

“Which F1 team has won the most championships?” AJ read aloud during the trivia round.

“McLaren!” you shouted.

Chunkz groaned. “It’s Ferrari, you muppet.”

You pouted, ignoring the laughter and leaning into the camera again. “I tried, Lando. I swear I did. Don’t judge me.”

Unbeknownst to you, Lando was watching.

Ever since Filly introduced him to Beta Squad’s videos, he’d been a quiet fan. At first, he watched for the laughs, but after seeing you roast the boys with razor-sharp wit and your constant jokes about him, he became... intrigued.

“Mate, she’s proper funny,” Lando had told Filly after a particularly chaotic episode.

“Yeah, Y/N’s a legend,” Filly said with a grin. “You should DM her, bro. She’d lose it.”

“I don’t know,” Lando had said, trying to play it cool. But secretly, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head.

Back at the Beta Squad shoot, you were sitting on the sofa during a break, scrolling through Instagram. The guys were busy setting up for the next segment, but you were glued to your screen, giggling at Lando’s latest post.

“What’s so funny?” Chunkz asked, leaning over your shoulder.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, turning your phone away.

“Bet it’s Lando,” Sharky teased, walking past.

“Of course it is,” AJ said. “She’s been staring at her phone like it’s a picture of her future husband.”

“Leave me alone,” you said, laughing. “It’s not my fault he’s perfect.”

“Perfect at crashing,” Niko said, and you threw a cushion at him.

“Say that again, and I’ll fight you,” you warned, grinning.

Just then, Sharky’s phone buzzed, and he let out a surprised laugh. “No way.”

“What?” Chunkz asked, curious.

“Lando just posted a story. He’s watching our video.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

The guys crowded around Sharky’s phone, and sure enough, there was Lando’s story—a clip of you dramatically declaring your love for him, with the caption: “I’m flattered. Trivia next time?”

You froze, your face burning. “Oh my god.”

“Y/N, you’ve made it!” AJ shouted, shaking your shoulders.

“Wait, this is big,” Kenny said, laughing. “What are you gonna do?”

Before you could answer, your phone buzzed. You picked it up hesitantly, and your jaw dropped.

@landonorris: Followed you.

The room went silent for about three seconds before the guys erupted into chaos.

“He followed you?!” Chunkz yelled.

“This is better than any prank we’ve ever done,” Sharky said, grinning.

“Alright, everyone, calm down!” you said, though you were anything but calm. Your heart was pounding as you opened Instagram, and sure enough, there it was—Lando’s name sitting at the top of your followers list.

“DM him!” AJ urged.

“No, wait,” Kenny said, smirking. “Let’s see if he DMs her first.”

As if on cue, another notification popped up.

Lando Norris: Hey, Y/N. Love the videos. Also, I’m offended you got the McLaren question wrong.

You let out a strangled laugh, holding up your phone. “He DMed me.”

The guys lost it again, shouting and cheering as you stared at the screen in disbelief.

“Reply!” Niko said, practically shoving you back onto the sofa.

Taking a deep breath, you typed out a response:

You: In my defense, I panicked. But thanks for watching! Let me know when you want to collab on trivia.

His reply came quickly:

Lando Norris: Deal. But only if I get to be on your team.

You couldn’t stop smiling, and the guys teased you relentlessly for the rest of the day. But for once, you didn’t care.

Because maybe, just maybe, your shameless simping was about to pay off.

Thank you for reading!

[warmblanketwhump]

Idea for you. Let’s say we have 5 characters living in one household. They’re all very close. A brings an illness into the house. B catches it while taking care of them. Then C joins the party. Then finally D catches it as well, leaving E to take care of all of them. They start to feel ill, but power through. By the time the others have recovered, E’s fever is bad, and now they have to take care of the caretaker.

this flu season, everyone got sick.

First to fall was A, who came home from work with a pale face and a raspy voice and went straight to bed. When E went up to see them, they found them huddled in bed, blearily staring at the wall.

“I don’t feel good,” they whimper.

Next, C’s nagging cough deepened. It had started a tickle in their throat, but soon moved all the way down into their chest. C was the active type—always going for runs and spending time outdoors—so E knew they were in trouble when a short walk from room to room left C breathless, and soon, they were bedridden as well.

Then, B started complaining about feeling chilled.

“Aren’t you guys freezing?” They sat at the dinner table with D and E, a blanket clutched round their shoulders as they stare blankly at the meal they’ve barely touched.

“No?”

B runs their hands up and down their arms, then hugs themselves tightly with a shudder. “I just can’t get warm.”

D and E exchange a look before D rests a hand on B’s shoulder. “I’ll get the thermometer.”

In the span of 36 hours, three of them had become bedridden.

At first, it’s a bit of a joke between them all, D and E commiserating as they move between rooms with cough syrup, tissues, blankets, and tea.

“We should open up our own hospital,” E cracks as they

But that all changes four days in when E comes downstairs to see D at the kitchen table, ashen-faced and clutching a mug of tea in their hands.

“D, you look awful.”

D hugs the mug closer to their chest and shudders, coughing weakly. “I’ll manage. It’s just the sniffles.”

Before D can move away, E’s got a palm to their too-warm forehead and a sinking feeling in their chest. “Off to bed with you, D. You’re the next victim.”

D groans, slumping over with their head on the kitchen table. “E, I can’t just leave you.”

“Yes, you can and you will. You’re feverish and pale as death.”

D pulls the blanket tighter, a sheepish look on their face. “I thought…I thought it wouldn’t get me too.”

“No one thinks it will. Bed. Now.”

So that’s how D winds up the fourth victim of the flu, and despite their protests, they were arguably the worst hit. What they tried to pass off as a quick rest turned into a six-hour nap. they woke that evening with a 104 fever, having sweat through their clothes and bedsheets.

“It’s going to be a long night,” E whispers under their breath.

——————-

Two days later, E’s standing in the kitchen, fighting to keep their eyes open as the coffee brews, when they feel it.

A chill, prickling between their shoulder blades before it washes over their whole body.

No. I’m just overworked and sleep deprived.

Generously, E had slept for a combined 3 or 4 hours over the past two nights. It was partially their own fault. They’d been sleeping on the hallway floor so they could be equally close to everyone, which meant they heard every whimper, every cough, every quiet plea for help.

C had been up all night with a body-wracking cough, and B’s fever had spiked twice, which meant two changes into dry pajamas. A seemed to be through the worst of it, but they were still so weak they had to be helped to the bathroom. D woke at 2 in the morning, wracked with chills so violent that E gave into their pleas and helped them take a bath to warm up. After being dried off, they spent the rest of the night clutching a hot water bottle.

After that ordeal, E hadn’t even gone to bed—they’d just collapsed on D’s carpet, tugged the nearest blanket around themselves, and passed out.

Until they were woken by C’s coughing a couple hours later, and it all began again.

I'll just finish these dishes and then go sit by the fire. It's probably just this cold snap getting to me.

But as they wash dish after dish, E finds that each one becomes harder and harder to lift. Even the effort of standing makes their knees shake, and goosebumps prickle on E’s arms for no reason at all.

No. No. I can’t get sick.

By midmorning, it’s clear that something is very wrong. E’s chilled to the bone, despite being layered in thermals, a thick sweater and multiple pairs of socks. They resist the urge to wrap up in their bathrobe—the others will know something is wrong if they have that many visible layers on.

So they take A a glass of water, trying to hide how badly their hands are shaking when they hand it off. A must be thirsty enough they don’t notice as they gulp the glass down, but they frown once they’ve finished.

“E, you’re pretty peaked.”

“Hmm?” E snaps to attention, their focus drifting.

“You just look sorta washed out. Have you been sleeping?”

“I’ve been fine. As much sleep as I can with four patients to take care of,” E snaps. They instantly regret their tone as A flinches, then raises their eyebrows. “Sorry. It’s just…it’s been a lot.”

A props themselves up, wrapping their discarded robe around their shoulders. “E, I promise I’m feeling better. I can sit with D for a while—“

“No way. You couldn’t even walk yesterday.”

“And that was yesterday,” A says, patiently. “Give me an hour. If I don’t feel up to it, I’ll tell you.”

“Fine,” E says, too tired to fight with a suddenly chipper A. “But if you even seem slightly faint, it’s back to bed.”

——————

C is the next patient to raise alarms. Though their hacking cough has rendered them voiceless, they seem to be on the mend—vigorously pointing on things and writing messages on their notepad.

E, you look sick. C stabs the pointed message with their finger for emphasis.

E stifles a groan. “You’re one to talk. Drink your cough medicine.”

C accepts the shot of dark red syrup, but their eyes don’t leave B as they take it.

E meets A in the hallway, and before they can ask, A rattles off a report on B. “Fever’s still holding steady at 101.4. They’re miserable, but they’re not going to die. Gave them a cold washcloth, aspirin, and an extra blanket.”

“That’s….good work, A.”

A rolls their eye. “You’re not the only one who can play nurse.”

D is the final stop—they’re still in the roughest shape, feverish and mumbling incoherently, but A manages to soothe them with a cool hand to the forehead and some soft words. E adds another blanket to D’s bed and forces some more medicine into them, and D’s asleep in three minutes.

All patients accounted for, they leave D to rest. E’s about to tell—no, demand—that A goes back to bed, when a sudden dizzy feeling washes over them, and they grab the doorframe.

“E? You alright?”

“I…..I…” Suddenly, E can’t even form words, they just know they’re freezing, and they’re torn between keeping hold of the wall and wrapping their arms around themselves, get warm get warm get warm, and when they choose neither, their knees buckle and they crumple to the floor.

——————

The first thing E realizes, as A and C help them to sit on their bed, is that their sheets are crisp and clean. When was the last time they’d slept a full night in their bed?

“A, go….go to bed,” E rasps weakly through chattering teeth, huddling on the edge of the bed as A helps them into pajamas. “I’ll manage.”

“E, you can’t even keep your head up. Just let us help you change.”

E shudders weakly as their bare, feverish skin hits the chilly air, and A eases them under the covers, rubbing their back. “There you go. Nice and warm.” E leans into the touch, groaning softly, and they feel a thermometer poke under their tongue.

“103.6.”

E groans, pulling the blankets tighter. “I…I can’t be sick.”

“Hush.” A covers them with another blanket. “You took care of us, now let us take care of you.”

E is too feverish and cold and achy to protest, so they let them.

[chrislilcumslvt]

Rings… |C.S

Plot: After seeing Chris’s new TikTok you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking how good he looks with rings on

Why I’m writing it: um I had this idea from his new TikTok sooo yeaaa

Warnings: Fingering, virginity loss, pnv

RANDOM SONG CUZ I CAN BITCH DEAL WITH IT

Chris was currently in the kitchen fliming a tiktok while you were on the couch just watching him do it him and Matt made this little joke about how him and Matt looked alike the most so they both posted TikTok’s.

Once he was done he came to sit on the couch and edit the TikTok putting a text on the side that said “Me pulling up to the Matt Sturniolo look alike contest” you scooted over to him laying your head on his shoulder looking at his phone “what are you doing love” and looked over at you with a smile “just putting up a TikTok princess, were you watching?”

You smiled and looked at his hands seeing the familiar rings that Matt wore sometimes you picked up his hand in yours and said “Wow these look good on you” he smirked “Oh yeah you like them on me better than Matt?” you nodded even though you didn’t think of Matt like that, he trailed his hand up your thigh teasing the edge of your panties.

“How about we get these off yea princess..” you nodded Chris slowly took off your skirt along with your lacy pink panties when he got them off he threw them to the ground “we shouldn’t do this here princess let’s move to my room yea..” she nodded Chris picked her up bridal style taking her up to his room.

Chris put her down on the bed sitting down in front of her “You want my fingers or me first baby” she thought for a second “I want your fingers first..” “ok love” Chris was starting to take the rings off but when she saw he was taking the rings off “No no don’t take them off leave ‘em on..please..” Chris looked at her a little concerned “Why princess?” Then Chris clicked “Ohh I know why” she smirked slightly “You want me to touch you with them on right” he smirked “Yea baby please..” she whined for his touch “beg for my touch baby come on I know you can” Chris leaned down pressing soft kisses to her thighs “Please baby I need it so badly..” Chris grazed his fingertips on her clit making her whimper “M-More pleaseee..” she whined.

Chris smirked and ran a finger through her folds rubbing her clit in slow circles “Fuckkk..” she moaned quietly knowing Nick was in the other room Chris smirked knowing why she was so quiet “Yeahh just stay quiet baby don’t want Nick hearing you all those sounds are for me right baby.. no one else..” she nodded Chris slowly pushed his first finger in her, she moaned softly as she felt the cold metal on her hot needy pussy sending shivers on her body “Feel good princess..?” She nodded “Want another finger..” she nodded quickly nodded then chris slowly added another finger she felt the other ring hit her fold sending shivers through her body.

Chris started moving his fingers in and out of her in a slow motion “Gotta stretch you out before your ready for me baby..” she nodded and moaned quietly biting her lip slightly “fuck baby you feel so good your so damn tight..” she felt herself clenching around his fingers Chris went moved his fingers in and out of her in a faster pace “Yeahhh that’s it baby cum for me” she tried so hard not to scream or moan but she let out a loud moan “Fuckkkk!” She arched her back off the bed cumming all over Chris’s fingers she let out a soft sigh Chris let her come down from her high “You know I’m gunna have to clean up these rings and give them back to Matt right” he chuckled “Yea I know baby..” Chris then asked for the big question “Are you ready for me princess..” she looked a little scared but then calmed down letting out a soft sigh “Yea I’m ready..” “I’ll be gentle ok” she nodded and trusted him.

Once chris was fully stripped he slowly got on the bed getting on top of her kissing her head softly “Are you really sure you want this princess..”, “Yes baby I want this..” he nodded and positioned himself at her entrance rubbing the head of his cock in her recent release “Fuck…” he moan softly “I’m gunna start now ok..just tell me to stop if you need me to..” she nodded.

Chris pushed inside of her tight pussy “Fuck princess your so tight around me..” he moaned quietly , she whimpered softly at the burning sensation Chris immediately stopped “You ok..” “Mhmm just burns a bit” “Yea it’ll only hurt for a bit then you’ll start to feel good ok..”.

Chris was fully inside her and let her adjust to his size “Ready for me to move..” she nodded, Chris started moving his hips slowly not wanting to go fast just yet “Ohh fuckk.. you feel so much better than I imagined..” Chris moan quietly “B-Baby go faster please” she whined Chris moved his thrusts faster “Fuckkk! Take it baby take my fucking dick in your tight pussy..” “Ohh Chris!” She moaned out loud not caring if nick or Matt heard she didn’t care anymore she was having a great time.

“Fuck yeah baby you close?, I can feel you clenching around my cock you wanna cum for me baby..” she nodded Chris moved his hips faster “Fucking cum for me baby I’m so close” she moaned loudly feeling the knot in her stomach slowly snapping Chris’s hips slowly slowing down as he was close to cumming he thrust one more time before he felt the knot in his stomach snap “FUCKKK YESSSS!” He moaned loudly “Ohhh baby..” she whine, he pulled himself out of her and laid on top of her exhausted.

She smiled and threw the blanket over them and kissed his forehead but then suddenly Chris’s phone rang it was a text from nick

WRITER TYPING… OMG I FINALLY HAD THE MOTIVATION TO FINISH THIS HOPE YALL LIKE IT 😭

TAGLIST 1: @stayingstromboli @lollycoldzzz @conspiracy-ash @ijustbelurkingmymen @slutforsturniolosss

TAGLIST 2: @angvlarabella @shadowthesim @zariyam @adoreechxmpion @liiixsturniolos

TAGLIST 3: @chrisbabymomma @unknvhx @colorthecosmos444 @matts-myloverboy

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 early morning rookanis enjoy 🪶

Lucanis leaves the pantry to see Rook stumbling towards the stove, delightfully disheveled. Hair tumbling from her head in a middle part instead of swooped across her skull and down one shoulder, shirt umbuttoned lower than he dares to look.

Spite still points out the green and purple fabric of her breastband.

"Good morning." She jumps, suddenly, only barely keeps from spraining her ankle.

"Where did you come from?"

Lucanis points his thumb over his shoulder.

"The pantry. Like every morning." Rook huffs, runs both hands up her face and lightly pulls at the roots of her curls. "Short night?"

"My night was long enough," she starts, moving out of his way and leaning against the worktop, watching him light the fire in the oven. "Then I had the weirdest dream in a minute, right before waking up. Whatever rest I got - ruined."

"Want to talk about it? It'll take a while for the water to boil."

Rook rubs at her eyes.

"Dreamt Emmrich made me partake in some Fade magic or whatever but it backfired and I came out tall and skinny, but really disproportionate."

Came back wrong. Smells not right. Dry potsoil. Old, dry potsoil.

"Would.. would you not prefer to be tall and skinny?" Lucanis himself could surely do with a few more inches in the legs, on his bad days.

It dawns on him an instant too late, the way his question sounds, even to his own ears. But she's not offended. Far from it, actually.

"Are you kidding? Absolutely not. Have you seen my thighs?" Rook stands back up straight and cocks her hip. The high Crow boots and tight pants hug her curves enticingly. "Luscious, but spacially demanding."

A pause, as he crushes some coffee beans in a mortar. If he remembers his labels correctly, these beans will have a hint of chocolate flavor in them.

"Besides, people never think it's the short, fat elf who'll kill them." Lucanis snorts at that.

He pretends not to notice the way Rook's eyes linger on his forearm, the popping veins and the shifting muscles.

"Would you prefer to be taller?" Rook asks after a while.

"Sometimes. Though less because of the actual height and more because of the jokes." The noise out of her is knowing, familiar.

"Head taller than a cheese wheel." A phrase they both must have heard more times than they could care to count, judging by the familiarity in the way she quotes it. She moves away from the cooking corner, toward the cupboard around the stairs.

"How did you get into coffee?" She asks it as though it's a story she knows, and knows it well. So, as per usual, he deflects.

"How does anyone get into coffee? I imagine you told someone you were tired and they handed you a cup." Lucanis pauses, as he transfers the ground beans into a filterrag and secures it over the pot. "Only that it made you more tired."

She laughs, wiping out the two cups she chose with a dishrag.

"Accurate. Though the way you speak about coffee, it sounds like more of a revelation."

11 cups, Rook. Last night. ELEVEN. WE NEVER SLEEP AGAIN. STAY SUBDUED. STAY AWAKE. ALL THE SHITS.

"Our barista bought samples of all beans available in Treviso. Had me try them to find Caterina's favorite. I was fourteen. Didn't sleep for five days."

They're lucky she chose tin mugs. Her jaw drops, and so does her grip on the mug, and it falls loudly onto the tiles.

"One: you have a barista at home?!"

"Not anymore. Last I was there, I made my own coffee. The other staff don't get it right."

"The other staff?"

Lucanis shrugs, as he takes the kettle with an oven cloth and pours the hot water over the filterrag in slow, deliberate circles. The few memories he has of his parents, they waited on him hand and foot. After they were killed, and he went to live with Caterina, her staff.

"I'm sure your house has staff."

"Viago's the Talon, Lucanis. The Fledglings are his staff."

True point, he thinks. Viago has a tighter grip, more control over his underlings. So they don't get ideas. The reason he's constantly peddling with orphanages and whorehouses is that the moment a Fledgling even breathes wrong in his presence, they disappear. Myself is my true king, and he makes sure everyone knows it like the know the sun also rises.

"Two," she continues, either oblivious to secondary string of thought that always seems to run in the background no matter what or electing to ignore it. She has picked up the fallen mug and wipes it off yet again. "You drank every sample in one night?"

"The best beans at the time were from the Montilyet vineyard, surprisingly, crushed in a coarse herb mortar, run through alchemy water that's just about to boil. Press it onto this tiny metal sieve and pour the water as fast as you can without getting the grounds in your cup." During his youth, he drank that prep so often he can no longer think of it without recoiling. "I got so much done that week. And have no recollection of any of it."

She laughs. Holds both mugs as Lucanis transfers the ready coffee into their mugs. She already put creamer and a sugarstick into one of them.

"Sounds like you to remember the coffee and nothing else." The sugarstick serves as a spoon as she mixes creamer, coffee and the sugar falling off of it. "What's in this one?"

"If you believe me, the beans in Neve's pellet coffee before they abuse them beyond recognition. It's supposed to have a chocolate aftertaste."

She raises her eyebrows at him, lifting the cup to her lips.

"You think you can save that hogwash?" The expression on her face tells him there's no saving this. "Maybe the beans just suck."

"What can I say?" He takes a sip. Oh, dear. "If anyone can, it's me."

"Did Caterina like any of the samples you tried?"

"Of course not. She prefers tea over coffee. It was a lost cause."

Rook laughs so hard and sudden she inhales her swill. Spite laughs at the way it drips out of her nose.

🪶

i know bioware fixed that bug but idc if i saw it happen and they patched it its a dream now i dont make the rules

i still don't know how coffee works but I love some tevinter slander lmao

I'm trying to break out of the chronologic thing I had going with solavellan and just write what I feel like writing and its really cathartic ngl [also the way I finished my thesis and went straight back to creative writing for the first time in like FIVE YEARS lmao]

@lanafofana if you want me to tag u in ONLY what we talked about you gotta let me know lmao

@vespaer77 i forgot to tag u in my rookanis stuff and tbf I don't know if you WANT to be tagged in that but here u go haha

[~rina]

[yourislandgirl]

⍣*°:⋆ THIS AIN’T NO PHASE ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ || OT7 엔하이픈 x fem!reader || headcanons

summary: how enhypen would act as reader’s down bad classmate

genre: fluff, romance, non-idol!enhypen x non-idol!reader, somewhat high school au except it’s not that in-depth, lowkey enha as simps

warnings: can’t think of anything major, attempts at humour, intentional lowercase btw

[archive]

・❥・ 희승 // heeseung

totally the show off type, he sneaks glances at you after he accomplishes something on the first try to make sure you noticed (will end up sulking for like an hour if you were looking elsewhere)

learns new skills just to show you, like you’ll offhandedly mention something about the bass guitar in a new viral song and within a week he’ll have learnt it by sneaking into the school’s music room and using their bass. he has no clue when, if ever, he’ll get the chance to show you, but if that time comes, he’ll be prepared

definitely the kind of guy that likes testing the waters with pick up lines and lowkey flirting, he also knows he’s attractive — which is always bad news when the guy knows — so he would totally give you a beautiful smile and a corny joke of some kind, his eyes darting back and forth to study your reaction

never wanted to make a fool of himself around you until the one time he embarrassed himself a little and you let out the most enchanting laugh, he swears the skies parted. from then on, it didn’t always matter to him how he looked and presented himself, he became less critical of himself, because if he could make you smile, or better yet, laugh? that would make his day

more under cut!

・❥・ 종성 // jay

much more of a conversationalist than you’d expect — totally starts unprompted conversations on various topics just to hear your perspective and he always asks for your opinion because it means the most to him, except . sometimes you have no opinion on some of the things he asks, so there’s just this odd silence afterwards

will usually have homecooked meals that he makes himself or has leftovers from super expensive restaurants that your other classmates have been waiting months to get a reservation to, and he always shares that food with you, like your entire friend group would get their share but he’d save the best part for you and he always asks if you liked it afterwards because he's storing that information away for potential future dates

there are far too many times he “accidentally” bought an extra snack or dessert from the cafeteria and, well, we wouldn’t want that to go to waste now, would we? so he’ll just casually slide it over to you, like it’s the most normal thing to do

very acts of service, all you’d need to do is just grumble under your breath about your pen being shitty and almost out of ink and he’s bringing out his two best pens and handing them to you. or say you guys are doing an experiment in your chemistry class, he’s immediately getting all the equipment, you don’t need to move at all, (oh, but, he loves following your lead for the actual experiment — the kind of guy that goes “whatever you wanna do”, to which you’d reply “um, technically it’s not up to me, jay. if we do these steps out of order, we could blow up the classroom” . “oh, right”)

・❥・ 재윤 // jake

really giggly around you, like, really giggly. everything you say is hilarious to this man. stand up comedy who? he’d actually be so amusing about it too, like bro is randomly chuckling in a class where you’re not even there, just because he remembered something you said

he once tried the move of asking you for help in class. except you rightfully pointed out that he knew much more about the current topic than you did, you had no idea what he expected to learn from you — he then realised the better option is to ask you if he can double check his work or “compare notes”

the first time he caught a mistake/typo in your work, he felt a little bad for pointing it out, but he quickly came to appreciate the clear view of your concentration face when you tried to redo your answer. he'll be constantly flicking his gaze up and back down, trying to keep his eyes on his notebook but ends up tapping his pen against the empty page while he admires the way you furrow your brows while you think

always asks if you’re coming to the school’s soccer game (or football, i guess, i’m australian and we call it soccer) anyway, he spends like five minutes before every game dedicated for scanning the crowd to see if you’re there — if you do ever decide to go, know that your presence is completely unrelated to how he just so happened to score the most goals out of his team . completely

・❥・ 성훈 // sunghoon

stares a lot, but he naturally zones out in class (to the point where teachers ask why he’s staring off into space) so you don’t always question it, except it’s clearly the best excuse he has to keep staring at you

not really outspoken but he definitely would be the type to mutter the most cringe fail jokes to the people around him and takes it as a personal victory every time you scoff out a small chuckle, has a mental list of the kinds of jokes you find funny because man is studying the trends to come up with new material

without realising, he would end up having your schedule memorised, and would totally use that knowledge to his advantage. say your science class is before his — bro is bolting out the door to get to the classroom in time to say a quick “hi” before you leave, he does it so often that you’re convinced he has PE before science, because there’s no other explanation for why every time you see him, this guy is winded like he finished a race (except for the fact that he ran halfway across the school campus for a five second interaction)

would be heavily invested in whatever you take an interest in, he doesn’t even have to understand it, he just wants to know about it because of you. say you’re current interest is modernist literature, he’d snag the perfect opportunity to ask you to explain it to him and let you ramble to your hearts content while he stares at you with the most soft expression, and he isn’t zoning out this time, he’s just pleasantly distracted by the view

・❥・ 선우 // sunoo

would be the type to find the smallest common interest and be convinced that it means your destined to be. like, you could mention something in passing like a show or something, and if he stumbles across it in his recommendations? dude is ecstatic . because what do you mean the universe just happened to show him the exact piece of media you’re obsessed with? (you’re not, it’s literally your most casual interest, but bro is convinced)

he wouldn’t hesitate to compliment you, like he would openly admire your hair if you do something new with it, or if he hears you talk about the new earrings you’re wearing he’d turn around to look at them and give you that nod of approval and say something about how it frames your face nicely, zero shame in what others would think from his forwardness

more subdued when it’s just the two of you, he usually rants about whatever random shenanigans are going on around your school, things that he’s heard or seen, usually retold with editorial humour and a lot of sidebar comments that you wouldn’t be able to help but laugh at, definitely keeps adding to the joke until your sides are hurting from laughing together, he probably has it marked in his calendar on the day he made you laugh so hard your eyes shone with tears a little bit (an achievement in his books)

more subtle when it comes to something as risky as asking you out, he’d try and play it off as simply recommending a certain cafe or a certain movie and if he just so happened to imply that you two should go together, well, that was just out of politeness, of course … unless?

・❥・ 정원 // jungwon

spits out random facts and genuinely believes that they’re the stepping stone to developing a relationship with you (while you sit there confused, because how do the surprise donuts your teacher brought even remotely relate to camels and their ability to drink 200L of water in three minutes??)

i think he would like trying to create a routine with you, something familiar, something that will remind you of him — maybe if you guys sit near each other, he’d always take both your workbooks to the teacher out front for you. or if there’s this special dessert at your cafeteria that he knows you like, he’ll split it with you every time it’s offered. he seems like the type that would find reminders of you in even the smallest of things so he just wishes to create a connection where you’ll feel the same

always sends you the notes when you’re missing from class, his notes aren’t exactly the neatest but they are funny. he adds like little doodles and comments (mostly for himself tbh, he'd add things like “just think of integration as differentiation’s older brother” in the margins of his maths notes or something). honestly, he had considered rewriting them neatly for you, but after you initiated a conversation about the mutilation of a portrait he did of your teacher, well, he figured any chance to talk to you wouldn’t hurt

the kind of guy who will try and send you signals through music and song lyrics, like if you post a certain song on your story, he’d pick the same song but choose a different lyric to play on his story, something more romantically coded. or if you talk about a new artist you’re listening too, he’ll find their most romantic song and say that’s his favourite and asks you listen because he thinks you’ll like it

・❥・ 리키 // ni-ki

very quiet, you’d probably think he was mute if it wasn’t for his low acknowledgment of presence when the teacher takes the attendance. the biggest rush he gets out of his day is when he says a couple words to you in your shared classes. it would always be really quick conversations too, he’d mutter about the teacher being uptight, or complain about the worksheet being printed in black and white instead of in colour, or ask you if you’re cold before getting up to shut the window next to your desks — small, but meaningful

the type to walk up and down the same hallway five times before working up the courage to enter the room you’re in. if you asked him why he did that he’d straight up be like “that wasn’t me. anyway…” adksajd so it’s safe to say he seems a little odd but charming and he’s counting on that charm to help him pull through and land at least a movie date

super competitive in PE class and it’s like a switch will flip and he’s suddenly more suave and confident when he’s in that element so expect a lot of random sidebar conversations while you guys do warm up stretches, he’d totally be the kind of guy to walk past you and drop one of the water bottles near you before walking off to his friends, definitely brushes his hair back like twenty times, gives unsolicited advice on how you can throw better or kick better or whatever it is depending on the sport, you’d be like “[raised eyebrow] i still scored didn’t i?” and he’d backtrack so fast it would be hilarious

has definitely sketched you before, let’s be real. half the time he spends in art class is sketching you in his personal sketchbook — he’d be smart enough to not draw your face (at least in the book he brings to school), it would be something like your side profile but it’s off centre so any other person would think the main focus of his sketch is the window which you sit beside, but to him, the main focus is you. he’d sketch anything he associates with you too, say for example if you mentioned your favourite flower just casually, he’d have a whole page dedicated to various sketches of that flower, no one else would really be able to tell what all his sketches mean, they’re like puzzle pieces that only you’d be able to put together

a.n: this took a while (been so distracted by numerous diff fandoms and a little sad bcs of mama awards but wtv) this is dedicated to my lovely mootie @sheepsgf !! the indescribable beauty that was jungwon’s solo intro in mama will forever live in my head btw, but i figured i’ve done three posts for won already aksjdjs time to do an ot7 one bcs i love them all and they’ve worked so hard !!

taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf

2024 © yourislandgirl

[moonchildstyles]

pomegranate

pomegrante part one: harry and y/n are roommates and she doesn't want him to feel lonely

wordcount: 14.2k+

—————

Harry's brows knitted together as he lifted his eyes from the avocado he was slicing, eyes flitting to the television from where he stood at his kitchen island. Truthfully, he didn't know why he kept watching this show when he never agreed with any of the contestants' decisions. More often than not, he came away frustrated when he watched these singles fumble budding relationships in favor of the near-mythical 'something better' they were convinced was out there. He couldn't understand why they prioritized sex with someone they didn't even know existed yet over someone right in front of them, that was more than enough. 

Shaking his head when he saw another shirtless, spray-tanned man with a head of permed curls on the top of his head pull a beautiful girl to the side for a "chat",  Harry directed his attention back to the strokes of the knife under his hand. His sushi bake would be out of the oven soon and he needed to get all of his fix-ins in order before the timer ran out. 

Just as he stowed away his slices of avocado and started on the edamame pods he planned on salting and marinating, the humming of the garage door rolling up rumbled through the house. A slight smile touched at his cheeks, already anticipating the clicking of heels he would no doubt hear before the door leading from the garage to the kitchen would be swung open with a huff. 

(Y/N) had been on a date tonight, and there was no way it had gone well if she was already home. Only an hour away didn't make for a particularly fun night. 

As expected, only moments after the garage had been closed and he heard the slam of her car door, (Y/N) trudged in from the extension with a tired expression on her face. 

"Hey, H," she sighed, already bending over to take her shoes off despite barely making it onto the tile of the kitchen floor.

"Hi, (Y/N)," he greeted, turning around with his avocado slices left behind, "Bad night?" 

He didn't have to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes. 

"The worst." She stood up to her full height—sans high heels, of course—with a flick of her hair. "I should've just stayed home with you. I wouldn't have been bored to near tears with you." 

For a second, Harry felt his heart sitting in his throat. Did she have any idea what it did to him when she talked like that—joked like that? Years into this friendship with no shortage of her sweetened comments, he doubted she did. He just hoped that she didn't notice his cheeks reddening and the way his hands suddenly didn't know what to do. 

"'M sorry," he murmured, "Was he nice at least?" 

(Y/N) shrugged, the silk straps of her top shifting over her smooth shoulders. "Nice enough—he just likes talking about himself, I think." 

Harry's lips thinned at her comment. He couldn't imagine being anything but the best listener for (Y/N); who wouldn't want to hear everything that was going on in her head and the piles of stories, however mundane, she could share? 

"Well, unless you're too tired, we could watch our show? Dinner will be ready soon if y'were still hungry." 

It was the way she seemingly inflated, light in her eyes with her hands brought to her chest all to match the bubbly smile on her lips, that had his heart springing in his chest. 

"You'd share your dinner with me?" 

You can have everything of mine, as long as you keep looking at me like that.

A mild smile curled his lips in hopes of concealing everything bubbling underneath his skin. "Of course. 'S a salmon sushi bake, if that sounds any good to you." 

"That sounds so good, H. You're the best, thank you." 

Her smile was dazzling when she turned it on him. Thank god he had set his knife down, or he would have lost a couple of fingers at this point. 

This time, he couldn't shake the smile that bloomed over his lips, however sheepish it was. "Of course—um, thank you." 

A peal of laughter left her lips as she traipsed out of the kitchen, heels in hand. "You're so sweet. I'm gonna change, but I'll be right back!" 

As if in a swirl of cherry blossoms and white lace, (Y/N) was gone. Along with her went the sparks that flooded his bloodstream and tremors in his fingers. 

God, he'd have thought knowing her since university days he would be used to her at this point. It was as if becoming roommates those couple of months ago did the opposite of acclimating him to her presence. He wasn't sure there was anything about her—the way she looked, the way she acted, the way she talked—that didn't hold even a bit of magic in his eyes. 

The sound of the oven timer going off brought Harry back to real life. Now that he was planning on sharing this dinner with (Y/N), he wanted to ensure everything was perfect. One of his favorite things about living with her was being able to take care of her through simple things like cooking dinner or making coffee in the morning. Every night she went out on a date or took a night off to go out for a girls night, he was there to get the rundown of her time away and feed her toast and water to lessen the blow of the morning hangover as much as he could. He was there for any and everything—even if he wasn't necessarily in the mood to hear about her feelings for another. He would rather be on her side even if she was on someone else's arm, than not be there at all. 

All while (Y/N) was readying herself for a night in with Harry, he was focusing on his knife strokes and mixing the different sauces to be drizzled over the bake. By the time she emerged with a set of pajamas on and her hair twisted out of her face, Harry had crafted the perfect dinner to be shared over an episode of their tropic reality dating show. 

He didn't wait for her before he was putting together her plate, dressed the way he knew she liked, sheets of nori off to the side along with a pair of chopsticks he taught her how to use years ago. 

"There's extra in the kitchen if y'want more," he murmured as he passed the plate to her hands, taking the spot on the couch at her side. 

"This looks so good, H," she beamed, looking at him with something he liked to think of as affection in her eyes, "Thank you again, really. You're already making my night so much better." 

"Good," he swallowed, dropping his eyes to the tip of her nose, "'M glad I could—um—make y'happy."

He could have cringed at the sound of his fumbling words, but that was only cut off when (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile and gave him a hug in the form of wrapping her arm around his own and resting her head on his shoulder for a lingering moment. 

"Wait! Wasn't he paired with Amber an episode ago?"

(Y/N)'s bubbled outrage was the perfect cover to the way his heart had landed in his throat. This way, he could concentrate on anything but himself and the reactions he was having over someone who was supposed to be just his friend.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, wrapping a bite of crispy rice and marinated salmon on a sheet of nori, "He pulled Lissa over for a chat at the start of this one." 

"Of course, he did," (Y/N) grumbled. 

While he would never wish anything but pure joy on her, Harry couldn't help the way his own happiness sprouted in his chest. He would never pass on a night like this.

—————

"Can I lay on you?" 

Harry blinked back to earth at the sound of (Y/N)'s voice over the familiar episode of a long ended reality show they'd already watched hundreds of times. Looking to her end of the couch, she was already slouched into the corner cushion, eyes heavy and hair tucked not a mess away from her face. 

He didn't think before he nodded his head, uncurling his legs to allow her space to lay her head. She murmured her gratitude in a sleepy voice as she stretched across the cushions to rest her head on his thighs. 

It was a familiar move, something that (Y/N) had done many times even prior to their roommate situation coming to fruition. She'd spilled to him more than once that she was a cuddly person—touchy-feely, was the way she put it—taking and loving all of the physical affection she was able to collect. Including from Harry, who always seemed to take the whole thing entirely too seriously. It was cute, she'd said, cute enough she couldn't help but to laugh. 

Tonight, she was already heavy-eyed and loose-limbed by the time she settled against his legs. Her hands were tucked under her cheek, a small barrier between his thigh and her cheek though he could still feel every ray of her warmth no matter what. 

He did his absolute best to stay relaxed despite the instinct to straighten his spine and tense his muscles at the affectionate way she laid over him. He wanted to be the best pillow he could be for her, and that wouldn't be possible if he resembled a wooden plank more than a fluffed case of feathers. 

Harry's win came in the form of a languid sigh that left her lips, (Y/N) practically going boneless against him. 

"You're the best, H," she murmured, just barely audible over the club music sounding from the television. "Thank you." 

Swallowing, he allowed his eyes to glaze over her form without her own watchful gaze on him. Hearing those words attached to that mouth from this gorgeous girl, was going to make him burst. 

"You're welcome," he whispered, urging his eyes to move on from the sliver of her midriff on display from the ruched hem of her top. 

As expected, a breathy laugh came from (Y/N). "You can touch me, you know," she said, twisting just enough to look up at him through flared lashes, "You don't have to keep your hands up like that." 

He hadn't even realized he froze with his limbs hovering over her, resting away as if there were a barrier holding him back. "Oh," he sounded, blood burning behind his cheeks, "Sorry." 

Could he be any more pathetic? Embarrassment surged through his veins. Was there any other way he could make it that much more obvious just how nervous (Y/N) made him? 

In a set of cautious movements, his hands floated back down to her form. He gently settled his palm on the cuff of her shoulder while the other rested near her head, where strands of hair brushed the stretch of his fingers. 

"It's okay," she said, the smile evident in her voice despite Harry not seeing the curl, "You're so silly, H." 

It was the way her voice trailed off, taking on a deeper octave than before, that showed him just how close she was to finding the other side of her eyelids. He instinctively began running his thumb along the ball of her shoulder, a circuit that had him skimming her soft skin with the sleeve of her top pushed out of the way. 

There was something about seeing her skin being dented by his touch, a touch that wasn't particularly strong or even rough at all. She wondered if she was able to feel the whorls of his print, the creasing of his knuckle. It was an innocent enough feeling, his hand upon her arm, but he felt his heart beginning to thump. His throat was thick enough he felt his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

This was another facet that only took on a life of its own, the casual intimacy that had been sparked between them now that they shared a home. Laying her head on his shoulder in a passing hug, resting her head on his lap, practically asking him to put his hands on her as she was lulled to sleep. Logically, he was sure this was supposed to get easier as it went, the more it happened the magic was supposed to lessen. But, that just didn't happen.

His heart still thumped heavily. His stomach tightened and pitted and warmed. His...  well, other parts of him appreciate the touching too, even if he resented focusing on those parts of himself.

It felt more than wrong to acknowledge his baser interests in her, not when she was such a kind and loving friend to him. If that boundary between them was meant to be crossed, there were plenty of times both during their university days and the years that followed, that gave perfect opportunities for that line to be wiped away and crossed in favor of something new. Instead, they were still just friends—best friends, even. 

You're not supposed to get hard over your best friend. Not when she was doing nothing but falling asleep in his lap. Not when she was relaxing in her own home in comfortable pajamas—even if they were comprised of a soft t-shirt and pair of shorts just a touch too small that rolled up at the hem, giving more and more skin for his eyes to feast upon. Without a bra, of course. A fact evident in the way her nipples would peak against the material. 

No, he was not supposed to be hard over that. Not to mention the glaring fact that she spent nearly every weekend on a date with someone or going out with the express purpose of having fun and meeting other people. 

There was also, of course, the most prominent issue: he's a virgin. Even if he somehow managed to see more than just a friendship in him, he would have no idea how to take care of her. (Y/N) was someone who had experienced enough physical affection that she no doubt knew what she enjoyed and what she didn't; there was little to no appeal to teaching the one you're in bed with how to do the most basic of acts.

So he would keep his distance, even if the rest of his body refused to get on the same page. 

"Are you okay?" 

(Y/N)'s mumbled voice shook Harry from his thoughts. Blinking back to the real world, she was tipping her head up to look at him with sleepy eyes. 

"Hm?" he hummed, aware of the way his hand had gone still on her arm and his bones had grown stiff. 

"Do you want me to move or something?" she murmured, "So you can get comfortable? Sorry if I made your leg fall asleep." 

Harry's skin warmed to a flushing red. Of course, he would grow restless when she was on his mind. Taking stock of his body, at least he knew he wasn't that hard; any longer in his mind and he may have had a problem. 

"'S alright, 'm alright," he rushed out, "Jus' think 'm getting tired. Sorry." 

She smiled up at him, her hair haloing around her head in his lap. "It's okay," she laughed, "Do you want to go to bed? We can keep watching tomorrow instead." 

That was what he needed at the moment: distance. Some peace and quiet and a moment to get his head on straight. "Let's go to bed," he affirmed, mimicking her soft smile. 

Her movements were lethargic as she moved off of his lap. A curling stretch had her raising her arms above her head, the hem of her top lifting just enough to show a sliver of skin above the waistline of her shorts. Harry quickly retracted his eyes, settling his gaze to his feet instead. 

Turning to him, with eyes slightly hooded and limbs languid, (Y/N) gave him a smile. "Goodnight, H," she mumbled, "Thanks for making my night better."

Collecting him in her arms, Harry didn't have to think before he was reciprocating her hug. The scent of her perfume twisted around him, stray hairs tickling the tip of his nose. Her words echoed in his head. 

He made her night. She made his life. 

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he crooned, melting into her hug for just a moment longer before unwrapping himself from her hold. "'M happy I could help." 

Her smile was sweet as she turned on her socked feet towards her bedroom. "See you in the morning." 

He watched as she pushed open her bedroom door, her eyes glanced over her shoulder at him. Her pretty, pretty eyes. 

"See you in the morning." 

With that, the night ended as she closed her bedroom door behind her. 

Though she stayed just where she was on Harry's mind. 

—————

Harry wiped his hands clean now that the sink was cleared of all dirty dishes. The clock on the stove detailed the time as eleven thirty-two, a half an hour longer than he meant to stay up tonight. But, he supposed that's what happened when he decided to take a nap instead of cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. 

Quiet voices sounded through the living room from the show running on the television though Harry didn't pay it any mind as he swept through the space. (Y/N) was out for a girls night, leaving it Harry's turn to take care of the common spaces to ensure neither of them would have to tidy anything in the morning. Plus, he didn't think it would be very nice of him to leave her stumbling over his pile of shoes when she came home after a night of drinking and crashing on a friend's couch. 

He could still see traces of her scattered about the space in the form of stray glitters from her outfit, a pair of loose hair ties left on the table by the door, right next to her usual handbag ransacked with only a few random items left in it from the essentials she pulled from it to take out on the town with her. He hoped she was having a fun night—she deserved it. 

After cleaning up and turning off the television and lights, Harry retired to his bedroom upstairs. Turning on some music through his headphones, he started on his nighttime routine. It was definitely less extensive than the one he'd seen (Y/N) do night after night, but there were a few serums and techniques he'd stolen from her—including the lavender room spray he was addicted to misting through his room before laying his head down. It turned his dreams decadently sweet, he thought. (Or it could be because he always fell asleep with (Y/N) on his mind, the lavender scent reminding him of her every night without fail).

But, this time, when he laid his head on his fluffed pillow, delicate music filtering through the space from his bluetooth speaker, Harry wasn't ready to go to bed. He had known the evening nap he took wasn't the smartest idea, leaving his limbs restless and eyes wide open. As soon as he knew (Y/N) was home safe in the morning, Harry planned on running all of the errands he'd pushed off this weekend, and a late wakeup time wasn't going to be the most productive move. 

There were only so many things he could think of doing to tire himself out. Scrolling on his phone was a no-go considering how he knew the blue-light would only urge him to stay awake, his book was too riveting to be a useful bedtime story, and going for a run this late wasn't the best option. He just needed to tire himself out. 

Fitting his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry figured there was another option. 

He wasn't quite in the mood at the moment, he could put himself there he figured. He doubted it would take much work, really. 

As if this were a laborious task, Harry kicked his comforter from his hips with a sigh. He reached for his phone on instinct, opening up a familiar application to help color his imagination. Without much ceremony, he pushed his sweats down just enough to fit his hand down his underwear. He would do this quickly, he decided; fast and hard, to put him to sleep sooner rather than later. 

It didn't take long to feel himself harden in his grasp, photos and videos of various couples wrapped around one another and those in solo situations fueling his head. His breathing grew heavy in his chest, mouth falling open as a particularly titillating video of a woman with her hands between her legs filled his screen. 

With the audio still playing, Harry's head fell back against the pillows. His eyes fell closed, a sigh leaving his lips. Pulling his hand from his length, he brought the appendage to his mouth before spitting against his palm. With his hand now slick, the wet pumps of his fist along his cock now filled the air. His toes curled in his sheets, free hand tightly gripping his phone. 

While it wasn't something he wanted to do, it was terribly easy to let his mind wander to the pretty girl that had left him home alone tonight. The fit of her dress had been hard enough to process when he was clear minded, now that was a nearly impossible task. 

The dress was new, a silky piece with embroidered flowers and thick straps cuffing her shoulders. It was tight along the bodice, cupping her breasts and curve of her waist before flaring out along her hips. The hem cut off at the mid of her thigh, leaving the length of her legs on display down to the comfortable shoes she chose for the night. (The high heels from the weekend prior had been shoved to the back of her closet for the time being, the blisters on her feet enough to have her avoiding them at the moment). 

It was a terrible, horrible, repulsive thought to have about his roommate, but Harry knew that all it would have taken was a bend of her hips and he would have seen the curve of her bottom. If he had been bold enough to look, he was sure he would have caught a glance down the bodice of her dress when she came to him to say goodbye for the night. 

His cock twitched at the reminder of her body pressed against him when she hugged him goodbye. If he was a different man and they were in a different situation, he would have grabbed her hips and held her close. He would have found the line of her panties through her dress, felt the curve of her bottom over the silk. 

He liked to imagine she would hold him back, that she would lean into the angles and muscles of his body. He could see her tipping her head, leaving him the room to drop his lips over the curve of her neck and shelf of her collarbone. 

He liked to imagine her wanting him back. That he would be able to satisfy her and take her expertly, tying her to him as he pushed his hand between her legs—or, god, his head—and brought her to the edge. What he wouldn't give to know what the melody of her voice sounded like when steeped in pleasure.

Harry pumped his hand that much harder along his length, the put of his stomach growing tight like the thick bands of muscles on his thighs. His breathing was harsh, wheezing out against his clenched teeth. 

"Fuck," he panted, hips bucking against his hand when he thought of what could have happened had he pushed (Y/N)'s dress up to her middle. Precum dribbled from his tip, streaking down to his shaft and mixing with the slick of his spit. 

He was going to cum, he could feel it. His muscles were bunched tight, eyes screwed shut with his own personal pornography projected against his eyelids. 

"Harry, are you awa—Oh! Oh my god, bye!" 

In a second, Harry snapped from the throes of pleasure just to see the tail-end of (Y/N)'s silken dress flashing out of his doorway. Behind her, his door slammed shut, cutting her words in half. 

She wasn't supposed to be home. She was supposed to be spending the night at Rue's house. What was she doing here? 

Oh, god—fuck—she's home. (Y/N) came home and saw him jerking himself off to the thought of her. Shit, fuck, shit.

His movements were fumbling and disjointed as he pulled his pants back up and attempted to wipe his hand of the evidence against a dirty t-shirt that should have been in his hamper. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he thinking? He was so lost in his head, he didn't even hear the door open? Didn't hear her footsteps stomping up the stairs?

Was he supposed to talk to her? Or were they supposed to avoid each other until someone inevitably broke the lease and they never spoke to one another ever again? 

The latter option hurt his chest, but the former cast his body in a sweat. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, eyes trained on the floor beneath his feet. 

Why couldn't he have just gone to sleep? Why did he have to take that nap and leave him thinking he needed to tire himself out? Why did this have to happen?

Did she know he was thinking of her? He wasn't entirely mindful of his words, had he let out a call of her name? How long had she been home before she barged in?

Harry hung his head, shaking his head as he attempted to spool himself back in. If not for the fact that he was concerned about the fact she'd made her way home instead of staying with her friends, he's sure he would have spent the entire night hiding in his home. But, unfortunately, his heart still beat for her and he needed to know that she was okay, at the very least. 

Summoning the courage, Harry stood from his seat at the edge of her bed, his hands shaking before curling into fists. They were best friends—she'd seen him with his head hung over the toilet with chunks being hurled from his mouth, with greasy limp hair until he figured out the right products for his strands, the puffy-eyed, snot-nosed sobs he let out when he failed his first mid-term their entry year of university. There were few more embarrassing situations to be found in.

He was telling himself that, anyway. 

Steeling himself, Harry moved to push open his door and seek out (Y/N) only to be stopped in his tracks when he ran right into her. 

"Harry!" she bubbled, wobbling in her spot as she reached out to grab his arms. She steadied herself with the grip. "Are you okay? Sorry, I didn't know you were there." 

It was then that he noticed the slur to her words. Her eyes, ever pretty and with only remnants of mascara remaining, were glassy. More than being startled as she ran into him, she had reached for him to keep her steady on her feet. She smelled of perfume, a dark bar's worth of smoke and cologne, and the sting of alcohol. 

"'M alright," he mumbled, reaching for her arm across his chest as he scrutinized "Are you?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, blinking up at him, "Are you?" 

A small smile touched the corner of his mouth. She almost made it easy for him to forget what had happened just moments earlier. "'M alright," he repeated, "I didn't know y'were coming home tonight." 

"Oh yeah. I was supposed to," she sighed as if there was a length of story behind her words, "But, Rue got busy, so Kim said I could stay at hers, but honestly I just wanted to come back to you. I felt bad leaving you to have dinner by yourself, and I missed you so I just had her boyfriend drop me off here." 

God, had his blunder even happened? Hearing her say I missed you so flippantly all while clutching his arms and blinking right up at him was enough to bring him to his knees. She wasn't acting at all like she'd just walked in on his private moment. 

"Oh," he sounded, finding his words, "I hope I didn't make y'feel like y'needed to come back." 

She shook her head before he even finished talking. "No, no, no. I wanted to come home—I wanted to be with you. I wish you'd come out with us sometime, you'd have so much fun." 

While Harry was reeling over her words, the sentiments she was sharing so freely, (Y/N) traipsed past him. The ghost of her grip on his arms stuck around in the moments after she left him behind to approach his bed. He turned to face her with his lips rolled between his teeth in an effort to keep anything embarrassing from spilling off his tongue, only to see her slipping off her shoes. 

She left them in an unceremonious pile by his bed when she caught him looking. "What?" 

"What—um—what are you doing?" He hoped he didn't sound as rude as he did in his head. Truly, he didn't know what she was doing, beginning to shed the night while in his room.

Unabashedly, she looked up at him with a flutter of her lashes. "Can I stay here with you? Like a sleepover?" 

His heart stopped in his chest only to leap up to the base of his throat. "A sleepover?" 

"Yeah," she sighed, pulling at the hem of her dress, "Is that okay?" 

Logically, with how intoxicated she was, it was the safer option to keep her with him tonight. In case anything were to happen, of course. 

(There was everything else bubbling in his stomach, too. All the bubbles popping with whispers urging him on to keep her just where she was amongst all of his things, where he can take care of her.)

"Y'can stay," he murmured, offering a soft smile as he gazed at her. "Do y'want me to grab some clothes for you?" 

"Sure," she chirped, already blindly dealing with her hair, "Thank you, Harry." 

He gave her another smile before he left towards her bedroom a floor below. Somehow, within the confines of his home, fresh air entered his lungs and cleared his middled head. Being around her right now was making Harry feel just as drunk as she actually was. 

Maybe she hadn't seen what he was doing when she walked in? While he couldn't imagine he wasn't being completely obvious with his hand at his groin and head thrown back, she may have been too drunk to realize what he was doing. Otherwise, Harry just couldn't fathom how he was being so normal afterwards—asking if she could have a sleepover in his room, even. 

Pulling out a set of pajamas from the stack of laundry on the end of her bed, Harry tried not to dwell as he started back up the stairs to his bedroom. If she didn't want to talk about it, neither would he. (If he had any luck on his side, she might not even remember what she may or may not have seen. The memory might be one of the few that went fuzzy for her). 

Heading back into his bedroom, (Y/N) was sat crossed legged on his bed, eyes decidedly much heavier than when he had left her. Her hair was now tied up and out of the way of her face, shoes and socks in a messy pile on his floor. She perked up when he entered, eyes brightening though still glassy and tired. 

"You're back! You were gone for so long, I was scared you forgot I was home." 

Harry could only laugh at her declaration. How could he ever forget about her, let alone when she was asking to spend the night in his bed? 

"Couldn't forget about you," he admitted, his smile soft as he dropped his eyes from hers, "I hope these are alright to sleep in." 

He passed off the sleep clothes he picked for her, watching as she unfurled the pieces without even looking at them. "They're perfect, H. Thank you so much." 

Standing up from her spot on his bed, she didn't hesitate before wrapping him in a hug. Harry stood motionless for a brief moment, attempting to process the affection. All while clad in the tiny dress he had just been fantasizing about barely twenty minutes prior, the full of her soft body was pressed against his. 

Would he ever not react like a teenager with a crush when it came to her? How much longer would he feel with the racing heart and sweaty palms until his instincts caught up with the reality of her disinterest in him in that way?

Reciprocating her hold, Harry hugged (Y/N) to his chest. She all but melted into him, the effect of the alcohol in her system weighing her down (though he would like to imagine it was because she liked holding him as much as he did her). He was sure she could feel the rapid beat of his heart under her cheek—hopefully a distraction from the touch of his unsure hands hovering across her back. 

"You're so warm," she mumbled against the material of his shirt, the words slurred and nearly unintelligible. "You should've come out with me tonight; I forgot my jacket but I would have at least had you." 

Harry's fingers tensed over her back. The pumps of his heart throbbed down to his fingertips, his lashes fluttering in a blink. She had to stop talking like that; he was already well into losing his mind over her, there was no need to keep piling it on. 

"Sorry," he breathed, the word feeling lame as it fell from his tongue. 

He made no move to recoil from her until she did, making the first move to unwrap her arms from around his middle. His eyes followed her as she focused then on trudging to his bathroom and dressing for the night. She tossed a noncommittal promise to be right back over her shoulder before disappearing behind his bathroom door. 

Left alone, Harry sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at the floor to where her mess of discarded accessories lay in a rumpled pile, a visible cue of her presence. 

She'd never asked to stay in his bedroom like this before. Even on other nights where she clamored home with alcohol in her blood, she'd never stumbled into his room with the intention of having a "sleepover" with him. 

But, of course, the one night she does, is when she walks in on him with his hand down his pants.

The reminder of the moment had a heavy sigh heaving his chest. He wished he was just as drunk as (Y/N), that way he had a chance of possibly forgetting the incident in the morning. Instead, he had a feeling he was going to be dwelling on it for at least another week, if not more. On the plus side, it didn't appear she had any intention of talking to him about it. 

In a clumsy string of movements, (Y/N) made her entrance back into his bedroom with a strong swing of the door. Her clothing was rumpled as she padded across the floor on bare feet. She only barely acknowledged him before she threw herself onto his bed. 

Harry let out a breathy laugh. "Do y'want anything to drink or eat before y'fall asleep?" 

"No," she moaned, wriggling her way into his bedding. "Tired." 

"Do y'need to take off your makeup?" he pressed, standing to help her adjust the layers of sheets and comforter over her form.

"I already did," she countered, tugging the bedding up to her chin as she gazed up at him. Truthfully, he couldn't tell if she really did remove her makeup given the shadows still around her eyes, but if that's the story she was going with, he wasn't arguing. 

"Alright," he sighed, knotting his hands together as he stood beside his bed as if it wasn't his own, "Y'really want to have a sleepover tonight?" 

(Y/N) didn't even blink before she was nodding her head. "Yeah. Your bed is bigger than mine." 

Harry hummed, now seeing the root of her new fascination with spending the night with him. "And y'want me to stay with you?" he asked, wanting to ensure they were both on the same page. 

"Duh," she laughed, turning until she was comfortable with her head on the pillow he'd just been laying against. "Lay down, we're supposed to talk before we fall asleep like a real sleepover." 

While he found humor in the whole situation, his hands still held a slight tremor as he turned down his side—his side—of the bed. 

Was this how he was supposed to do this? How did one share a bed? Other than true sleepovers as a kid, where he and friends would squeeze into beds too small after staying up way too late, there was never a time he'd shared a bed with another. Especially not so with someone he held... extra feelings for. Feelings that he hadn't quite shaken if the way his briefs were just a touch tighter than they should be was anything to go by. 

Working on autopilot, Harry slid into bed. He could feel the dip in the mattress from (Y/N)'s body, a certain warmth spreading across his sheets he'd never experienced before. The scent of her night still clung to her, though now the fragrance of fresh sheets and Harry's own cologne swirled between them. Sleepy blinks were offered to him as he stiffly laid among his bedding, (Y/N)'s tired eyes trained on him.

He swallowed, feeling the weight of her attention on him. "What are y'th—" 

His line of questioning was cut off when (Y/N) sloppily rolled towards him, lying flush against the line of his body. She molded herself to him with a sigh, her head snuggled into the cove underneath his chin. 

"What did you do tonight?" were her mumbled words, slurred and fuzzy against his neck. 

Harry, stunned for the moment, laid still. Those moments with her head laying on his lap or a press of their shoulders together could do nothing to prepare him for this. (Y/N)'s slight shuffle against him was enough to knock him back to earth, his limbs carefully laying around her in a delicate hold. 

"Um, what?" Harry asked, mind having been wiped of the last handful of minutes. 

"What did you do while I was gone?" 

"Oh," he sounded, aware of the way his arm fell across the curve of her waist and smooth planes of her back he could feel through her top, "Nothing really; jus' took a nap and cleaned the kitchen. Nothing exciting—not like you, it sounds like." 

(Y/N) hummed from her hiding place in his neck. "Nothing exciting at all?" she sang, a teasing lilt to her drunken voice. 

Harry swallowed. She wasn't hinting at anything in particular, right? 

"I mean, I started a new book before I took m'nap," he hedged, eyes stuck on the concert poster he had pasted to his wall. "But that's really it." 

She shifted in his hold, pulling out of his arms just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were still swimming and glossy, but she didn't shy away from his gaze. There was a small tick at the corner of her lips.

"Are we not going to talk about it? Because we don't have to, I just want to know." 

His muscles wound tight as he listened to her. She kept her voice decidedly quiet, as if there was anyone else around that could overhear. 

Were they going to talk about it? That wasn't really a decision Harry wanted to make, but he couldn't turn away the option now that it was served up to him. 

"Um," he fumbled, his mouth lagging behind his racing mind, "I—Uh—I... 'M sorry." 

Canting her head, (Y/N) blinked at him. "Sorry?" 

His throat bobbed, tongue suddenly too thick in his mouth. "'M sorry, I... I didn't know y'were coming home, I wouldn't have... you know. I didn't mean for you to see or... hear." 

Please god, he hoped she hadn't heard a thing—that he said or thought. 

(Y/N)'s features cracked into a smile when she finally processed what he'd said. It only took a moment for that smile to bloom into a peal of laughter. 

"Harry, it's not that serious," she got out in-between giggles, "You didn't do anything wrong—it's not like I don't think you do that kind of stuff. I just didn't know if we were going to ignore that I walked in or if we were going to laugh about it. You're not supposed to be sorry for anything; I should have knocked, anyway." 

Harry's mouth went dry. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction this was. Was this only because of the vodka in her system? Or was she really this comfortable with the events of the evening? If it were the other way around, Harry didn't think he would be able to speak let alone laugh at the situation for at least a whole week. 

(Though that could be entirely attributed to the fact that he had that thorny crush on her stuck to the chambers of his heart). 

The lump in his throat cracked and allowed a breathy laugh to come through after a heartbeat. Maybe she was right, it wasn't that serious. It's not like she could have known he was thinking about her. They were both adults, people who were more than able and accustomed to pleasuring their bodies—there was no reason to be weird about it if she wasn't going to be. 

"Jus', should have locked m'door at least," he laughed, joining her as he sagged into the mattress. 

"Yeah," she pressed, settling against him once more now that the seal was broken between them, "I always lock my door, you're too brave." 

He hoped she didn't notice the way his hands pulsed when she so casually brought up her own moments in her bedroom. He wasn't strong enough to broach that subject just yet. 

"Maybe," he agreed, "Sorry, anyway. Not the nicest thing to come home to, that's for sure." 

"I mean," (Y/N) started, her voice breathy as she sunk into his arms, "It wasn't that bad. More embarrassing for you than anything else, I bet." 

The laughter from his chest died down then. His brain caught on her words. "Not that bad?" he parroted, unsure of what or why he was even asking. 

"I mean, you're cute, H. You know that," she said oh-so casually. "I feel bad I walked in and scared you, but I can't act like it was the absolute worst moment of my life or something." She spoke with amusement, a touch of laughter carrying out her words as if this was all so easy. 

"Oh," Harry started, swallowing around his dry throat, "Y'think 'm cute?" 

She rolled into him, tucking herself against him once more. Harry didn't doubt that she was well acquainted with the pounding of his pulse at this point. "Of course I do, you know that. You're, like, the cutest guy I know. I mean," she sighed, voice slurring even more with the dredges of sleep tugging at her words, "you didn't have to stop earlier, if you didn't want to. I could've helped." 

Harry's body stopped working in that moment. Time was moving too fast around him while he was seemingly stuck in that moment. 

What? Is that a normal thing to say? Is this what happens when you share a bed with someone, even if they were only a friend?

His palms grew clammy. "What do you mean?" 

"You know," she yawned, "Just... I know you don't go on dates or bring anyone home or anything, so I could help you if you ever wanted. You're too cute to be by yourself, H." 

What the fuck? What was even happening at the moment? Was he delusional? Or dreaming so intensely he couldn't be sure if it was real or not? But he swore, crossing his heart and all, that this was real and completely happening all while (Y/N) was tucked in his arms with her mouth hovering by his throat. 

And she was offering to jerk him off sometime. Because he was too cute to do it by himself. 

What the fuck? 

"(Y/N)?" 

Harry received no answer. Her chest pressed against his and receded in even paces, puffs of air fanning across the slope of his neck. 

Staring once more at the poster on his wall, Harry didn't feel a single sleepy bone in his body. If he had thought he was restless before, there was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. 

—————

Exhaustion shackled his limbs as Harry moved through the kitchen. Just as he figured, there wasn't more than an hour of sleep in his system, his mind running too fast to allow him any kind of relaxation. Not when there was the extra presence in his bed. 

By the time the sun cracked through his curtains and (Y/N) had rolled to show her back to him, Harry forced himself out of bed. He doubted she was going to have an easy wakeup after the night she'd had, and he was already in shambles, making breakfast essential for the both of them to get through the morning hours. 

That didn't make it any easier, though. A large part of him wanted to stay tucked amongst his sheets, cozy and warm with the best view he could imagine available just before him. Despite that urge, a smaller part of him was still drenched in the complication that came with the slurred words she offered just before dozing off. 

First of all, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be embarrassed that she noticed he'd never really dated before and definitely never brought home anyone. It was bad enough that he was well aware of his lack of dating and sex life, he wasn't comforted at the idea of (Y/N) taking note. Second, what did it even mean to be too cute to be by himself? It brought a flush to his cheeks, the implication. But, was it really a compliment to be cute? He'd never heard (Y/N) describe any of the people she was interested in as cute; they were always pretty, and glowing, and handsome, and—of course—hot as fuck. 

Harry didn't want to know where he placed on her scale of attractiveness. 

Then, lest he forget, there was the whole offer of her taking care of him. If he ever wanted, of course. 

Even just the memory of her words was enough to have his limbs going robotic as he moved through the kitchen. He was going to burn his croissant if he wasn't careful. It was enough to even overshadow the moment she had walked in on him, it was that monumental to him.

But, Harry had a feeling that she wasn't going to remember much of the night before, let alone a throwaway comment right before falling asleep. And that was going to be better for the both of them.

Once he had twin plates of scrambled eggs with cheese, buttery croissants, and cut up fruit, he was daring to step back up the stairs to his bedroom. He felt like an intruder, knowing (Y/N) was still asleep, wrapped up in his bedding. Even if it was to wake her for breakfast, he felt reluctant to pull her from much needed rest.

Though, as soon as he pushed open the door, Harry realized he wasn't going to have to worry about waking her up. Not when she was already looking at him, blinking the sleep out of her eyes with the creases of his pillow etched in her cheek.

"Harry," she sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at her eye, "You're awake." 

"You're awake," he parroted, "I didn't think I'd see y'until this afternoon." 

She nodded absently, missing the amusement in his voice. "Me neither. Where did you go? I thought you'd left me here." 

It was the pout on her face and the downward lilting of her voice that had him taking a step towards his bed. "'M sorry," he murmured, feeling guilt pinch at his heart, "I was jus' downstairs making dinner. I was about to come get you and see if y'were hungry." 

"Breakfast?" she chirped, waking up that much more at the offer of food. 

"Eggs and those croissants," he confirmed, words coming out in a song as he tempted her with the offer. 

"That sounds so good, thank you," she muttered, voice genuinely warm as her gaze wrapped around him from across the room, "Will you come lay with me for a few more minutes, though? I don't want to get up yet." 

"I can bring your plate up here, if y'want," Harry offered, though they both saw him taking those quiet steps towards her.

(Y/N) simply shook her head. "Just you." 

Those two syllables launched him back to the night prior, where she couldn't continue her night without telling him just how much she had wanted only him through her night of bar hopping. Just him—the one on her mind, supposedly. He was too cute to be by himself.

Harry didn't respond before he was slipping into bed beside her, taking up the dented spot where his body had laid stiffly the night before. She took her spot against his form wordlessly, as if it were a part of the norm to snuggle up to him in the morning. 

"Thank you for letting me sleep in here last night," (Y/N) murmured, her chest expanding against his as she peered up at him through her lashes, "I know I was kind of a mess."

"No, no," he shook his head, "Y'were jus' fine. 'M happy y'came home instead of staying somewhere y'didn't want to." 

A small peal of laughter fanned across his skin. "I think everyone was getting annoyed anyway," she started, "I kept telling them that I shouldn't have left you home alone, so I think they were ready for me to just go back." 

Harry could feel his skin going warm. With his eyes closed, he attempted to keep his breathing from hitching. She was going to kill him one of these days. 

"Y'dont' have to worry about me when y'go out, (Y/N)," he insisted, voice as quiet as the grazing of his hands across her back. "'M fine, you go have fun." 

If not for the fact he was hyper aware of her body and just how close she was, he doubted he would have noticed the small shift she made across the sheets to land further in his arms. 

"You're just," she sighed, pausing between her words, "I don't want you to feel left behind or lonely. You're a good friend and you deserve to have fun and feel good." 

Her proposition that he had pushed to the back of his mind was suddenly roped right to the front. Of course, there was the damper of being such a good friend to her that she felt this way, but there was the rest of the statement to contend with first. 

"I—um—'M fine, (Y/N). Really. 'M actually pretty good company, if y'ask me." He had hoped she would join him when he let out a breathy laugh, but he made the only sound in the room. 

The pause lasted just long enough Harry wondered if (Y/N) had fallen asleep again before he heard her voice: 

"Like last night?" His heart all but stopped in his chest. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, time seemed to stand still while everything in his body went into overdrive. 

She wasn't supposed to remember that. She was supposed to be too plastered to remember anything, let alone the one moment with her he's ever regretted. What was he supposed to say to her? Was she teasing him, was he disgusted now that she was sober enough to have an opinion, was this one big joke that he was going to hav—

"(Y/N), I—" He started unraveling himself from her before she popped up with wide eyes. 

"No, no, I'm sorry," she rushed out, "That wasn't—I'm not trying to—I'm not making fun of you or, I don't know. I just mean..." She looked at him with uncertain crinkles by her eyes, her lips pursed as if she wanted to speak but had to hold back. 

"'M fine," he started again, sitting up amongst the rumpled bedding, "'M sorry if I ma—" 

"Do you remember what I said last night?" 

As soon as the question tumbled from her lips, Harry swore the room became five degrees hotter. 

"Do you remember?" he attempted to joke, though neither of them cracked a smile. 

She gave a nod. "About... you know. I could... help, if you wanted. So you're not by yourself." 

His mouth ran dry. There was much more power to the offer in the light of the morning with (Y/N)'s clear eyes directed to him. There was no slur of alcohol to her voice or liquid to her bones. 

She was entirely serious. So serious, she was asking him again. 

"You don't have to do that, (Y/N)," he murmured, dropping his gaze from hers. This was too much, to have to decline her—decline her pity offer after walking in on him with his hand down his pants the night before. "Really, 'm alright. I have no problem being... by myself." 

(Y/N) looked away with her lips rolled between her teeth. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. You deserve someone to look after you the way you look after me." 

"I don't think I look after you quite like that, though," he tired again, his light-hearted tone attempting to ease the tension. (Y/N) didn't grab the lifeline. 

"At least let me set you up with someone then?" (Y/N) offered this time, "I want you to meet someone you care about, then. At the very least, then we could double date." 

"I really... I don't want anyone. I'm okay." Anyone, but her was the right thing to say, but that wasn't something he was willing to admit at the moment. 

"There's this girl I know, though," she chattered off, suddenly coming to life, "You would really get along with her, H. She's super pretty, she's tall, and I don't think she likes Italian food, but we could work on—"

 "'M really okay, ser—" 

"No, H, she always loves reading—it's actually kind of funny how much she talks about all these books and—" 

Harry felt his stomach beginning to twist and turn. She could be the nicest woman in the world, this friend of hers. But there were many reasons why he was never going to take (Y/N) up on this offer. 

Starting with the fact that the one girl he had his eye on was right in front of him, and ending with the glaring truth of his virginity. He doubted (Y/N) or any of her friends like her were going to be very invested in that.

"And, not to get gross, but she's super hot. Like her body, H, you have to see her—"

"I'm a virgin." 

A flush ran up his skin, blooming his veins and reddening his skin. Why did he say that? Why did he share that? Is he suddenly an idiot? Was he now lacking a verbal filter and had to say everything that came to mind?

At the very least, (Y/N) finally stopped. The many wonderful and hot attributes of her friend had stopped. There was only a blanket of silence floating between them now. 

His heartbeat sounded in his ears before (Y/N) had any kind of reaction

"Oh," was all that fell from her lips. 

Peeking through his lashes, he was waiting for her to recoil. To look at him a little funny—the way the few that had learned that information looked at him. That moment of questioning how someone could have avoided sex (as if that was what he was up to), then wondering if there was something wrong with him, if there was something hiding under his skin that he was unwilling to share. Most people tried to recover as quickly as they could, brightening and telling him that it was alright. Plenty of people were waiting until marriage, they couldn't blame him of course! 

It was an uncomfortable conversation, one Harry let the other party lead. He never really felt like getting into the why's and the moments that he decided to turn down a potential warm bed. Or why it wasn't within his capabilities to have sex outside of a relationship with trust in the mix, or the fact that he'd never been in a relationship that met those qualifications. 

But, (Y/N) didn't do that. She looked at him with appraising eyes, not in search of something wrong. She looked at him like there was so much to be seen, to the point she couldn't believe it just because he was... him. 

"I didn't know that," she muttered, canting her head, "I always just kind of figured that you weren't." Her eyes widened then. "Wait, I've said so many things, why did you never correct me?"

Harry shrugged, the sheets rustling around him. "I know 's not... normal, so I jus' don't really talk about it. 'S easier if I jus' let y'assume." 

Her expression fell a little then. "I hope I never made you feel like you couldn't tell me," her eyes were soft as she gazed at him, "You know it didn't change anything to me, right?" 

A small smile cracked his lips. "Thanks."

She relaxed a touch then, her muscles untensing from the tension he injected with his admission. "Is it weird to ask you why? Like, why you've waited and everything?" 

"I wouldn't really say I've waited," he clarified, "I jus'... I've met people I wanted to be with and all of that, and I've had opportunities but I didn't take them." He paused, rolling his lips between his teeth; this was one of the harder bits to admit. It sounded silly even to his own ears, even if it was something he believed in. "I've never had anyone I trusted enough to share that... experience with. So I've just never." 

(Y/N) listened intently, eyes clear with a cant to her head. God, even with the harsh beating of his heart as he exhumed his secrets, she really was the absolute prettiest. 

"I get it," she muttered, "It's easier to wait than to spend the rest of your life regretting it." 

"Exactly," he exaggeratedly murmured, "'S like y'live in m'head, (Y/N)." 

His attempt at joking was enough to pull a small laugh from her chest. (Y/N) relaxed further into his bed, carving a dent into his mattress just at his side. Finally, that comfortable silence he lived in with her returned. 

He couldn't believe he'd been so flighty about this whole thing. This wasn't one of the things he needed to be nervous about, not compared to what she had walked into last night. And even that incident was less earth shattering than he made it out to be. 

(Y/N)'s tone was much less trepidatious when she spoke again, a decided difference than even a moment before. "Have you done anything else, though? Or have you waited for the whole thing?" 

"Haven't done anything," he responded, with a heaving sigh, "'M waiting on the whole experience I guess." 

"With someone you trust." 

A small smile bloomed over his features. "With someone I trust." 

A beat of silence passed between them. (Y/N) fiddled with the comforter tangled at her waist. "Can I ask you one more thing?" 

Harry hummed an acknowledgement. He should have agreed to get back into bed with her, he was beginning to consider leaving breakfast for this afternoon in favor of a quick nap. 

"Do you trust me?" 

It was the way she said it less than the actual words she said that had a pang echoing through Harry's chest. Of course, he trusted her; she was his best friend. Though, Harry doubted that was what she was trying to get at.

He gave a small confirmation in the form of a quiet yes. 

(Y/N) twisted in the sheets, looking up at him with clear eyes. Her lips glistened, the tip of her tongue having grazed over the pillows. "I know you said you're waiting and everything, but if you wanted to... change that, and you trust me...we could do whatever you wanted." 

As startling as the proposition was last night, this one inspired a twist in his stomach. This wasn't a drunken idea gone rogue. She was looking at him with a steady gaze and lips worried between her teeth. She was serious. She wanted to "do whatever" he wanted. With him. 

Despite there being no visible traces of pity on (Y/N)'s face, he truly could barely fathom the idea of her offering herself up to him so willingly. Especially after learning that there would be little he could offer in return—his skills were more than lacking. 

"(Y/N), you don't want to do that," he started, "'M alright, I d—" 

"I do," she cut him off, the words tumbling from her mouth without thought, "I do want to, I mean. You know I care about you right, Harry?" 

His mouth ran dry. "I know." 

A small smile touched her mouth. "You don't have to, obviously. I just wanted you to know that if you ever don't want to wait or kind of just want to get the pressure out of the way, I'm here."

 Was Harry going to explode? Was he going to flick through the room like a balloon deflating of helium? Or was his stomach going to swallow him whole and leave behind only the sticky tar of his feelings? 

And she was being so casual about it. She offered it as if there was no gravity to her words. 

"You don't have to say anything, though. Just remember that," she said with a soft smile, sitting up in bed with eyes on the door, "You said break—" 

"I want to." 

As soon as the declaration choked out of his throat, Harry wanted to cringe. He wanted to retract every breath, every thought, every twist of his tongue against his teeth that brought him here. Sure, she was offering, but there was such a thing as being over eager.

(Y/N) paused, glancing back to him. A light graced the hue of her irises. 

"Really?" 

He didn't trust himself to say another word. Harry only nodded. 

"You don't want to wait, anymore?" she prodded, forgetting the cracked door and the food downstairs. 

Now wasn't the time to give her the full list of why this exact moment was a dream come true (just short of having her as his girlfriend and holding her hand as they went to the movies), but she had offered a few good points. 

"I mean," he started, swallowing as his eyes dropped to the tip of her nose in avoidance of her eyes, "I do trust you. If there's anyone I know I wouldn't regret sharing this with, 's you." 

"I suppose we are best friends," (Y/N) added, layering her voice with a smile, "But, you're sure?" 

"I am," he said without a moment of hesitation, "Maybe jus' not... everything? I think that might be a bit much for me." 

"Of course, of course," she rushed out, waving her hands as if to wipe the pressure out of the air, "We'll only do what you want." 

Maybe Harry was a bit too much of an open book, unable to truly hide whatever it was that was running through his head, but he couldn't help the way his eyes immediately dropped to her hands. 

Harry knew just how soft her hands were. He'd seen the hand creams she used every night, and felt the plush skin every time they grazed hands or she made the dangerous decision of just laying a hand on his arm every time he made her laugh just a little too much. There was even once, way back when they'd first started becoming friends, that she had him to compare hand sizes. Even now, he vividly remembered just how soft her palm was against his, the stretch of her fingers that didn't reach up to the tips of his own. It was a memory he held onto and one he couldn't get out of his head at that moment. 

He'd thought more than once what it would be like to have her hand on him instead of his own between the sheets. What the visual of her pretty manicured nails, digits of her fingers, the softness of her palm would look like fisted around his length. He didn't have to know to be certain he wouldn't last very long if he ever had the chance to find out. 

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the wide smile mold (Y/N)'s features. 

"Really?" she coyly asked, stretching out her fingers from the cover of her sleeves. 

"Hm?" he hummed, forcing his eyes back to her own. 

A peal of laughter fell from her lips as she crawled back to her spot at his side. "My hands. That's all you want?" 

His skin felt flush as he nodded, his bottom lip wedged between his teeth. "Only if you want." 

She hovered above him, the tips of her hair hanging around them like a curtain. She looked like a dream there, only slats of light working across her face. Shadows sliced over her cheekbones and the length of her lashes with the pretty color of her eyes gleaming in the sun and the curve of her lips highlighted. 

He must be dreaming, but he was never this anxious in his dreams. Especially not one so lovely. 

"No one's ever done that for you before?" she asked, taking up a spot on the mattress at his side with her eyes grazing over his features. 

"Never," he confirmed, feeling his stomach stir at the feel of the heat of her body at his side. 

God was this really about to happen? 

"You're okay with me being the first?" Her voice suddenly had dropped a few octaves, a murmur in the air between them. 

He didn't have to think before he nodded. "I want you to be the first." 

Her eyes were bright, sparkling in the slat of light shining through her hair. "Right now?"

"Right now." 

She looked entirely too gorgeous to be normal when she smiled at him. "Just show me what you like, then. I'm all yours." 

His stiffening cock jumped at her words. She needed to stop talking like that if she didn't want him to embarrass himself. 

With that, (Y/N) wiggled her hand under his own on his abdomen, amusement in her eyes. Harry felt his breathing hitch at the simple touch. Just as soft as he thought. 

In an effort to preserve some semblance of his sanity, he closed his eyes before wrapping the length of his fingers around her hand. It was a moment, a full heartbeat pounding through his ears, before he pulsed his hand around hers in an affectionate squeeze and traced her hand down his middle. 

He could feel the tense of his muscles under his shirt, his legs spreading just that much wider. The ghost of her touch was a stark reminder that he never finished the job last night. 

Amongst his rumpled bed sheets, Harry couldn't be sure that this was even real life. Not that he spent any specific amount of time picturing what this first time would be like, but he could admit that he never really thought it would be like this. Not in sweatpants that had a stain from the eggs he had scrambled only twenty minutes prior. Not with his hand being the guiding force down to the waist of his bottoms. Not with (Y/N).

His cock stirred when their joined hands reached the elastic band of his sweatpants. Despite not even feeling her bare skin on his, goosebumps were raised. Was he going to embarrass himself by finishing within seconds? Harry had a feeling that was going to be the scenario at hand. 

(Y/N) wiggled her hand out from under his, hooking her fingers in the waist under her own volition. "You're still alright? With all of this?" 

"Yeah," Harry breathed out, his voice a hair above a whisper in hopes of disguising the tremor. 

"Okay," she said, looking up at him for a brief moment with a reassuring smile, "If you don't want to anymore, though, just let me know. We'll have breakfast and pretend nothing happened." 

His heartbeat sped up at her declaration. He knew he could trust her—with his body, with his delicate feelings, with his life, even. 

Harry didn't move his eyes from her even when she directed her attention to her hand. He watched her as she pushed his sweatpants down, the band falling just far enough down to hit the end of his boxer-briefs. His mouth fell open as he attempted to gain any insight into what she might be thinking, this being the first time he'd ever been this exposed to anyone before. Even with the layer of his underwear on, he'd never been in front of anyone in an undergarment like this. 

(Y/N) didn't give much away, only the cautious pace of her movements indicated the gravity of this moment. She skated her palm over the jut of his hip, easing him into the feel of her touch; he doubted she missed the way his cock jumped. His body reacted readily to each of her touches: goosebumps on his skin, bunched muscles in his abdomen, lungs squeezing in his chest, and the bruising hold of his teeth over his bottom lip. 

His hip was only the first step before she continued her path. She grazed the top of his thigh, nails denting into his skin in gentle pressures. His breath caught when she touched the lump of his cock, enough so that his chest shuddered. She lingered there, going so far as to give a slight squeeze, only causing him to harden more in her grip.

"I'm going to put my hand underneath, okay?" (Y/N) shared, voice quiet before he felt the first touch of her fingertips. 

"Okay," he answered involuntarily, tongue thick in his mouth. He was so gone for her in the moment, it was hard to think straight.

Harry lifted his hips to help her pull down his briefs, leaving them bunched at the mid of his thighs. His cock bobbed free, flushed and ruddy already. He doubted any other person in the world would have gained a reaction like this one. 

This time, he caught (Y/N)'s first real reaction. Her eyes widened, grazing over the length of him as she pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. She laid her hand on his abdomen for a beat, absently curling her fingers in the hem of his shirt she'd only pushed up and out of the way.  

Suddenly, she seemingly shook herself out of her head, looking up at Harry with a blink of her eyes. 

"Is it alright if I move a little?" she murmured, "I want to get more comfortable, if that's okay." 

She asked as if he had the power to deny her of anything, especially something so inconsequential. 

As soon as Harry nodded, she shifted at his side. Kicking the comforter off of her legs, she rolled to lay on her side next to him. He instinctively wrapped an arm underneath her, his palm landing just between her shoulder blades. The cuddling felt a little more inconsequential now that she had a hand traveling down his form, even if the feel of her chest pressed against him was enough to have his blood pumping faster. 

Now that she was settled, (Y/N) resumed her ministrations with both of their eyes trained on the movement of her hand. Harry swore it was just the fact that she was looking at him at all that had the blurt of precum seeping from his head, a pearl glistening in the morning light. 

"Just—um—if I do something you like, tell me and I'll try to keep doing it," she spoke distractedly, a slight rasp to her voice he hadn't anticipated in his fantasies. 

His mumble of okay was lost as soon as he saw her bring her hand to her mouth. He watched on as she dragged her tongue across her palm, slicking the skin before wrapping her fist around his base. 

"Oh, fuck," he let out, barely audible over the heavy sigh that carried out the words. He fought to keep his eyes open, spying the way (Y/N)'s features curled into a smile with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. 

She did a precursory drag of her hand over his length, the pacing slow and aching. Harry could feel every crease and pillow of her palm. God, she was just as soft as he imagined. 

His chest shuddered as he watched her pretty nails sparkling in the light. The pink polish seemingly mimicked the flush of his head, glimmering and sparkling like the slick of her spit over his shaft. If that wasn't bad enough, seeing the fact that her fingers didn't even connect around the girth of him was going to kill him. Were her hands that small or was he bigger than he thought? 

As if hearing his thoughts, a mutter came from (Y/N), "You're so big, H. I had no idea." 

He wanted to say something (was it corny to say "thank you" to something like that?), instead only a rumbling groan came from his chest. The pillows under his head were the perfect cushions when he couldn't handle keeping it up anymore. He was already flushed and warm, muscles too tight for comfort, and stomach tightening into a burn. And she'd barely even started. 

Hearing his reaction was enough to spur her on, dragging her fist over and over his length. Periodically, she swiped her thumb over his crown, spreading the pearls of precum he let out. The slick passes of her hand rang out through his bedroom, competing with the puffs of his heavy breathing as the most erotic sound filtering through his bedroom. 

"Ti-Tighter," he choked out, his arm around her back holding her flush to his side. 

(Y/N) didn't respond, but he immediately felt the vice of her hand tighten that much more around his length. Another string of curses fell from his lips, his throat thick. 

"Is this good?" she asked, turning until she was looking up at him with wide eyes. Her pupils were dilated, darkening the hue of her irises. 

Harry wasn't able to think as he looked at her. She was his dream, the ultimate fantasy. Looking up at him with glossy eyes, her manicured hand squeezing around his cock. And for the first time, he noticed she was rubbing her thighs together as she took care of him. His free hand clutched the mess of his sheets; he wouldn't be surprised if he found holes in the fabric later. 

"So good," Harry breathed, the words broken on his tongue, "So, so good, (Y/N)." 

The smile she gave him was devastating.

Was she crazy? Was she trying to send him over the edge this quickly? He was starting to think so. 

"I was going to ask if you wanted it tighter, but I think we've found it," she teased, entirely too light-hearted for one of the most monumental moments of his life. 

"Y-Yeah," he answered, feeling delirious, "(Y/N), I-I'm close. 'M sorry." 

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, a pinch appearing between her brows, "This is about you, you don't have to be sorry. Cum whenever you want—as long as you feel good, I don't care." 

Her pace was unrelenting, the slap of her hand hitting his base mimicking the beat of his heart. 

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he muttered, voice strained, "Let me—I don't want to make a m-mess on you, I can grab—" 

She shushed him, shaking her head against his chest. "I can handle a little mess, H, it's okay. Stop thinking about me, this is about you." 

Stop thinking about me, as if that were ever an option for him. 

Still the sentiment stuck the same, especially her willingness to allow him to leave any kind of mark on her, including one so primitive. 

He spared a glance down at her. Her features were mostly hidden give the angle and the wisps of her hair in the way, but he could still see the flutter of her lashes as she watched herself getting him off, he could see the pinch of her nose and the gape of her lips. He could see her thighs squeezed tightly together, the shirts covering her modesty turning tight and especially short around her hips. 

God, this was (Y/N) on him. That was her pretty, soft hand on his length. That was her chest pressed to his ribs, only layers away from feeling the heavy beating of his heart. That was her wrapped up in the sheets holding his scent and so eagerly and happily fisting his cock. 

"Shit," he moaned, his voice rumbling and deep as he threw his head back, "(Y/N), 'm cumming, love." 

There was a void in the pit of his stomach that tightened and popped in that moment, unraveling him from the inside out. His balls tightened at his base just before the first rope off is cum spurted from his tip. The mess he'd worried about came to life then, white ribbons projecting as far up to the chest of his top, others dripping down his length and further wetting (Y/N)'s hand. 

Guileless moans echoed from his chest, filling the room as he came for the first time at the hand of another. His body urged him to close his eyes, the visuals before him being too much for his fragile psyche. But Harry fought the instinct. There was no way he was missing even a single frame of this; there was likely never going to be another time he had the privilege of laying with (Y/N) like this, he wasn't going to let anything get in the way. Including his eyelids. 

She didn't slow down as she helped him through the throes, her own breathing turning rough and off-kilter. Her toes curled in her socks, thighs pressed tightly together. 

Harry could have been up in the stratosphere for hours with the way he slumped against the bed exhausted by the time the final drop of his release slithered down his cock. (Y/N) slowed, though she kept going until the final aftershock left his spine and Harry had to pull her hand away before he burst into flames. 

His breathing came in heavy puffs, lips parted and swollen. He didn't need to see himself to know that his cheeks were cherry red with a nose to match, his curls pasted to his temples with sweat, and his eyes just a bit wild. 

Despite pushing her hand out of the way, (Y/N) didn't think before she laced their fingers together. Her touch was a bit sticky now, but there was no way Harry was going to complain. He kept his arm aprons her back tight, fingers denting the soft plane between her shoulder blades. 

He could have laid there for days, feeling the warmth of (Y/N)'s body and her soft hand in his. If not for the fact his cum had begun to dry and go cold. At the very least he needed to clean (Y/N) up—he doubted it was good bedroom etiquette to leave her to clean up after his mess. 

Forcing his eyes open, Harry blindly reached for the tissue box he kept on his bedside table (truthfully, it was for the hay fever he always seemed to have, but the sheets definitely had their convenient uses. Uses he would never admit to, of course). Reluctantly, he peeled (Y/N)'s hand out of his, wiping the streak of his cum marring her palm. 

A breathy giggle fell from her lips. 

"What?" he asked, his voice bubbled and cracked. 

"Nothing," she smiled, "You're just sweet." 

For some odd reason, he flushed harder than he should at something so mundane. 

"Thank you," he peeped, cleaning the stray strings that reached up to her wrist. 

As soon as (Y/N) was free from the traces of him, he took care of his own thighs and the streaks that hit his shirt. The pile of tissues he had to take to the trash made a little mountain on his bedside table by the time he had himself tucked away and sweatpants laying against his hips once more. 

"Um," he started, unsure of what to say after an experience like that. What even qualified as pillow talk, and how did one start it with someone that was just his roommate? "I'll be right back," he settled on, reaching for the mess of tissues, "'M going to cl—" 

"Harry." 

He didn't think before he looked at her. Her eyes were still full of dilated pupils with swollen lips, but the way she looked at him held more tenderness than he thought capable in a moment like this. 

"Stay with me for a second," she requested, her voice a soft coo. 

There wasn't a second thought to be had as he listened to her command. If he thought he was gone for her before, that was nothing compared to the endorphins coursing through him every time she looked at him in that moment. 

(Y/N) didn't wait before she was rolling to wrap him in a hug. It was a bit awkward, the way she had to stretch up to loop her arms around his neck and the way their legs tangled in the sheets. But it was more than worth it. 

Harry had always pictured himself to be the kind of guy that would want a cuddle after sex, but he never could have imagined just how vital this kind of contact would be after something so intense. Despite this being levels below the real act, Harry still clung to her. 

Every time his chest inflated with a whiff of her hair and sullied perfume, she deflated with a breath that fanned across his neck. Kicking free of the sheets, (Y/N) opted instead to curl her legs between his in a welcome tangle. Her warmth radiated through the material of her shirt, a soothing heat that brought him back down to earth. 

He didn't think before the words were being whispered into her hair: "Thank you." 

The smile on her face was audible when she spoke, "You're welcome, Harry." 

He couldn't help but squeeze her that much harder. "I'm sorry I can't offer anything in return," he admitted, a frown etching its way onto her lips, "I-I could try, I jus' don't think I'll be very good or—" 

She shushed him with a press of her lips to his cheek. It was an act that took his already fragile breathing out of pace once more. The tip of her nose grazed his skin, the plush of her lips hitting right where he knew his dimple to be when he smiled. 

"Stop talking," she laughed when she finally—regretfully—pulled away. "This was all about you, Harry. I'm just happy that you felt good, and trusted me enough to let me do this with you. That's all I need." 

He could only hug her harder. 

Harry would have laid there for hours, happily so, even when he could feel the strength returning to his muscles and the beat of his heart leveling out, but (Y/N) was the first to pull away. She pressed another soft kiss to his cheek before she untangled herself from him. 

Her eyes practically glimmered as she looked down at him. "You said there was breakfast downstairs, right?" 

That was enough to get a full laugh echoing from his chest, his lungs squeezing in the best way possible. 

He was never, ever going to be free of this crush on her. Not now. 

—————

pomegranates, an ancient roman wedding gift; the fruit hades offered to persephone to keep her in the underworld. with him.

ahhhhhhh thanl u sm for reading! so sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas or anything please send them in!

[gallavichsreddie1128]

In the woods (Wolverine)

Description: Logan takes Y/N to the woods

Warning: Smutty

Word Count: 799

Request: Just thinking about Logan taking reader into the woods and chasing her like prey 😩. Pls pls 🙏

“You want to be chased and hunted in the woods like a deer.” Nova’s words were stuck in his head. Seeing her reach into Y/N’s mind was scary but the second she said that, he felt his pants tightened. His girlfriend wanted to be chased around the woods like an animal.

How long had she wanted this? The idea of it was hot but what if it was something she thought she wanted but actually didn’t? So much was going through his head and with a groan he got up and went to Y/N’s room. He thought for a few seconds and knocked. She answered and smiled at him. She looked innocent enough for the part. “Come with me.” He said and walked away.

She was confused but followed nonetheless. Wade was watching TV as they walked by, “Leaving in your suit, Peanut? Should I come with? I am Marvel Jesus after all.” He said and Logan rolled his eyes, “Fuck no.” He growled which worried Y/N. She followed him to the car and got in the passenger seat. He started the car and drove off. She looked at him and he stared at the road with a dark look. She had no clue where he was going and was too afraid to ask.

It was maybe a 15 minute drive in utter silence before the cat stopped. They were in the woods or the entrance to it. She looked around confused and looked at him, “Logan-” “Get out of the car.” He demanded. With shaky hands she opened the door and got out. He did as well and walked over to her. Her anxiety was high and she didn’t understand what was going on.

“I’ll give you a minute head start.” He tells her. She looks up at him and sees that he isn’t joking, “You want to be chased through the woods like an animal, yes?” He asked her and she nodded. Her face was red and her panties were starting to get wet at his dominance. “Run.” He growled and she took off. Afraid to look behind her she kept running. 1 minute later she hears him chasing her and her heart beats faster. She looked back and saw him on all fours and the mask chasing her.

He was close to her but not close enough to catch her yet. She couldn’t outrun him and 5 seconds later that was proven when he had her on the ground. She stared up at him with an open mouth and wide eyes. She was out of breath and her chest was moving up and down. He smirked at her and one of his hands traveled up her thigh to her covered pussy. She gasped as he unzipped her jeans and yanked the zipper down.

She closed her eyes as she felt his fingers lightly brush against her clit. “Lo.” She moans as his fingers slip in her panties to properly touch her. She whimpers as his fingers rub her clit and circle her dripping hole. “Please.” She begs but what for? “What do you want, bunny?” He asked as he slowly slid his finger in her. She gasped and grabbed his arm, “Look at you falling apart over a little touch. I should fuck you raw and breed you in these woods like an animal.” He said as his finger moved in and out of her at a rough pace.

His thumb rubbing her clit as her hips moved up with his rhythm. “Fuck please it’s all I want.” She whines. He chuckles and leans over her, his other hand above her head. “You want me to fuck a baby into you right here? I’ll bring you back here each year and fuck another one into you over and over again until we have a litter of baby Wolverines is that what you want?” He asked and she clenched on his finger. “Yes fuck! I want you to fuck so many babies into me.” She cried. He could tell by her breathing that she was close but he wasn’t stopping.

She screamed his name so loud as she came all over his finger, “That’s right baby. Scream my name, howl it. Nobody can hear you.” He said slowing the pace of his finger as she rode out her orgasm. He pulled his finger out and smirked. His finger was covered in her cum. He brought his finger to his mouth and licked it clean. She watched with intense eyes as he did and he hummed, “Fuck baby you taste amazing.” He said and stood up. She yawned and in that second she was up against a tree. She looked at him and he smirked, “Like I said darlin’, I’m fucking a baby into you every year.”  

[anniebeemine]

Vanilla- s.r. x fem!reader

warnings: big ego AND jealous spencer, spanking, unprotected sex, oral (femrecieving), cumplay

It started out as just another gathering with the team—a casual night out after a long case, everyone laughing and unwinding at a local bar. You sat beside Spencer, enjoying the rare opportunity to relax with him and his colleagues. The conversation was light and fun, bouncing from one topic to another, until it inevitably drifted into teasing against you and Spencer. It started out like usual, some quips about when he'd pop the question or when you'll pop out a few mini geniuses. Then it shifted into a few weeks ago when you came into work with a top that was lower cut than usual, shifting to show a deep purple love bite sometime during lunch with the girls.

Spencer flushed a deep red, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the table burst into laughter. "Uh, well," he stammered, "that was… an unfortunate coincidence."

You shot him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. "Unfortunate? That was all you, Doctor Reid." You leaned into him playfully.

Penelope gasped in exaggerated shock, placing a hand over her heart. "Spencer Reid, you little devil! I never would have guessed you had it in you!"

Derek clapped Spencer on the back, nearly knocking him forward with the force of it. "Man, you’re full of surprises! Didn’t think you had it in you to leave a trail. Reid, you’re probably the most wholesome guy I know."

Emily, never one to pass up on a good-natured ribbing, smirked. “Yeah, I bet your idea of a wild night is reading a book until midnight.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Spencer, always a good sport, chuckled along. But you could see a flicker of something in his eyes—something that made your heart twist a little. You reached under the table, squeezing his hand gently, offering silent reassurance. He glanced at you, and the warmth of your touch seemed to ease some of the discomfort, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

“You know, Reid’s probably the kind of guy who apologizes during sex,” Morgan added, his tone playful but with a teasing edge. “Always so polite, probably says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ the whole time.”

Your cheeks flushed, and though you managed to keep your expression neutral, you felt a surge of protectiveness for Spencer. The image they were painting of him was so far from the truth that it almost made you want to correct them right then and there, tell them the truth of his tendencies. But you stayed quiet, your bedroom life with Spencer was private, something just for the two of you, and you had no desire to share those intimate details with anyone else—not even his closest friends.

Spencer laughed it off, making a self-deprecating joke to deflect the attention, but you could tell the teasing had gotten to him. He stayed quiet for the rest of the night, offering only the occasional smile or nod as the conversation continued around him.

When you finally got home, the silence between you was thick with unspoken tension. Spencer had been quiet the whole ride back, and as soon as you closed the front door behind you, you knew it was time to address it.

“Spencer,” you began softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet since we left."

He turned to you, his expression conflicted, a mix of frustration and hurt. “It’s just… is that how they see me? As this meek, vanilla guy who can’t… who can’t be anything else?”

Your heart ached for him. “They don’t know you like I do, Spencer. They were just teasing. They don’t realize how far off they are.”

Spencer shook his head, pulling away slightly. “But you didn’t say anything. You just sat there and let them think… let them think I’m some kind of pushover.”

You sighed, understanding now where this was coming from. “Spencer, I didn’t say anything because I don’t think it’s anyone else’s business what happens between us. We agreed not to share that part of our relationship with them.”

“I know that,” he replied, his voice strained. “But it felt like you were agreeing with them by staying silent. Like you were okay with them seeing me that way.”

You stepped closer to him, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. “Spencer, listen to me. I don’t care what they think. I know who you are. I know how you make me feel, how you take care of me, how passionate and intense you can be. None of that needs to be proven to anyone else.” You caressed his cheekbones with your thumbs. “Besides, do you think you really want them to know how you have me bent over the back of the couch more often than not? How you have me counting out my punishments?”

His eyes softened, but there was still a lingering doubt. “But it just… it made me feel like they think I’m less of a man or something. Like I’m not enough.”

You shook your head firmly. “You are more than enough, Spencer. You’re everything I could ever want. What we have is special, and I don’t need to justify it to anyone else. They can think whatever they want, but at the end of the day, they don’t know the real you. I do.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, and you could see the tension slowly start to leave his body. He let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It just… got under my skin.”

You hugged him tightly, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “I understand, Spencer. But remember, you’re incredible just the way you are. And I love you for it. All of it.”

Spencer nodded, the last of his frustration melting away as he held you. “Thank you. I love you too. And I’m sorry for doubting that.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him gently. “You don’t ever have to apologize for how you feel. But just know, I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything.”

With that, the tension between you finally broke, and the two of you spent the rest of the night curled up together, letting the world outside fade away as you focused on each other, knowing that what you shared was something far deeper and more meaningful than anyone else could ever understand.

+++

Spencer had never really been the jealous type, but he was angry. Since the night of teasing at the bar, he'd been on edge.

It gnawed at him in a way he hadn't expected, chipping away at his usual calm demeanor. Since that night, there had been a subtle shift in his behavior—small things that you noticed but didn’t immediately address, hoping it would pass. But now, standing in the bar waiting for your drink, it was clear that something had snapped.

You had been leaning against the counter, waiting patiently for your order, when a stranger approached. He was confident, with a cocky smile, and placed his hand lightly on the small of your back. “Hey there,” he said smoothly, “let me get that for you.” He motioned to the bartender, offering to pay for your drink.

Before you could politely decline, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Spencer’s hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, and before you could even process what was happening, he was pulling you away from the bar. His grip was gentle but insistent, his usual reserved demeanor replaced by something far more intense.

The stranger barely had time to react as Spencer led you out of the bar and into a dimly lit alley beside the building. The air was cooler outside, and the sudden change in environment only heightened the tension. Spencer didn’t say a word as he pressed you against the brick wall, his lips crashing onto yours with a force that took your breath away. There was no hesitation in his movements—his hands were everywhere, roaming over your body, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any distance between you.

His kisses were fierce, demanding, and you responded in kind, matching his intensity with your own. It was as if all the unspoken emotions from the past few days had finally found an outlet, and Spencer was pouring everything into this moment. His usual restraint was gone, replaced by a raw, desperate need to claim you, to reassure himself of your connection.

You gasped into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel him, to ground yourself in the whirlwind of his sudden possessiveness. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pressed you harder against the wall, his body anchoring you in place.

“Spencer,” you whispered between kisses, your voice breathless. “Take me home."

His breath hitched at your words, a spark of something dangerous flaring in his eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled back slightly, his hand still firmly on your hip as he nodded, his voice low and filled with unspoken promise. "Let's go."

The walk back to your car was charged with anticipation, the quiet intensity between you almost palpable. Spencer’s hand remained on the small of your back, guiding you with a sense of urgency that sent shivers down your spine. The drive home was a blur, the silence between you thick with the weight of what was about to happen. Every glance he shot your way was laced with desire, his fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel as if he could barely contain himself.

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment, Spencer was on you, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that stole your breath. He kicked the door shut behind you, his hands roaming your body, mapping out every inch of you as if he couldn’t get enough. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the raw need that had been building inside him finally finding release.

You barely made it to the bedroom, clothes discarded in a trail behind you, the air around you electric with anticipation. By the time you reached the bed, Spencer was a man possessed, his usual gentle touch replaced by something much more primal. He pushed you onto the bed, his body covering yours in an instant, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his need for you almost overwhelming.

His hands were everywhere—gripping your thighs, your waist, your arms—as he kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made you moan into his mouth. He was relentless, his touch both commanding and desperate, as if he needed to prove to himself, and to you, that you were his.

“God please touch me, Spence. You’re the only person who could ever make me cum. I need your mouth on me baby, please.” He looks up at you through his lashes while he bites into your thigh, sucking so hard you know there’ll be a purple bruise tomorrow.  

Before you’ve prepared, he latches his mouth onto your pussy, laying his tongue flat against you and shaking his head back and forth. You scream out, taking a fistful of his curly hair into your hand and holding on for dear life as he licks and sucks feverishly. His saliva mixed with your arousal makes an absolute mess, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. He pulls back for a moment and puts two fingers up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders and you oblige, opening and wrapping your tongue around his digits, moaning as you do. He watches you intensely and bites his lip as he imagines how you’d work him if you were sucking him off.

Once his fingers are wet, he pulls them out of your mouth and down to your core, circling a few times on your clit before pushing them into you completely. You let out a string of curse words as he curls them inside you, hitting your G-spot over and over again. Just when you thought it couldn’t feel any more intense, he reattaches his mouth to your hood, using his tongue to trace figure-eights. Your toes begin to curl as you feel the familiar knot in the pit of your stomach.

You shakily cry out his name, tugging his hair harder. The vibration from his moan brings you closer, a cry spilling from your lips. He doesn't stop, continuing his attack on your clit, his fingers picking up speed.

You wriggle and writhe beneath him, holding back cries. A second orgasm washes over you, voice taken as he finally sits back, hands running over your thighs soothingly.

"You know what I was thinking about the entire night?" He asked, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Tell me," you said through pants. "What were you thinking of?"

"How good your ass looked today."

You chuckled. "Really?"

Spencer's lips curled into a smirk as he nodded, his eyes darkening with that familiar hunger. "Really," he confirmed, his voice low and husky as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the toned chest beneath. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. Every time you walked by, every time you leaned over, it drove me crazy."

You felt a flush of heat spread through your body at his words, a mixture of surprise and excitement. "And what did you want to do about it?" you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He shrugged off his shirt, tossing it aside before leaning back over you, his hands once again finding their place on your hips, gripping them possessively. "How badly I want to make them sting." His lips run over your collarbone, voice dropping. "I know you like it."

You whimper, nodding. "Then do it."

As you turn over, your breath catches in anticipation, your skin tingling with the promise of what’s to come. Spencer’s hands trail down your back, gentle at first, as if savoring the moment, before they grip your hips with that familiar possessiveness.

His voice is low, almost a growl, as he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You know I’m going to make you beg for it, don’t you?"

You shiver at his words, your body reacting instinctively to the mix of dominance and tenderness in his tone. "Please, Spencer," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want it… I need it."

He lets out a low, satisfied hum, his hands sliding down to your ass, kneading the flesh before his fingers curl, and with a swift, calculated motion, he brings his hand down in a firm slap. The sharp sting spreads through you, igniting your nerves and drawing a gasp from your lips.

"How does that feel?" he asks, his voice dripping with control.

"Perfect," you manage to gasp out, the sting from his hand already sending ripples of pleasure through you.

His hand comes down again, harder this time, and you arch your back in response, biting your lip to hold back a cry. Each slap is deliberate, perfectly timed, and as the sensation builds, so does your desire. The pain is just enough to make you ache for more, to make you want to give in to everything he’s offering. Spencer’s hand continues its work, each strike sending a wave of heat and electricity through your body. Your breaths come out in ragged pants, and you can feel your entire being focused on the sensations he’s creating, on the way he’s drawing out your pleasure.

"Do you like it when I make you feel like this?" he asks, his voice husky and rough as his hand moves rhythmically against you.

"Yes," you breathe out, your voice almost desperate. "I love it… I love how you make me feel, Spencer."

"Good," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck before his hand delivers another firm slap, making your skin burn in the best possible way. "Because I love making you feel this way."

The stinging pleasure only heightens your need for him, and as his hand continues to bring you to the edge of what you can take, you know you’re utterly and completely his. The mix of pain and pleasure is intoxicating, and you’re lost in the sensation, in the way he’s controlling your body with such expert precision. When he finally stops, his hand soothing over your stinging skin, you can’t help but whimper at the loss, your body still thrumming with need. Spencer leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder as he murmurs against your skin, "You’re so beautiful like this. Do you want more?"

"Please," you gasp, barely able to form the words through the haze of desire that’s clouding your mind. "Please, Spencer… I need more."

His voice is a dark promise as he whispers in your ear, "Then let’s see just how much you can take."

Spencer's hands glide up your sides, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Stay still for me.”

You nod, your breath catching as you feel him shift behind you. His fingers trace the curve of your back before gripping your hips again, positioning you just how he wants. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, your body thrumming with a mix of pleasure and need as you wait for his next move.

He takes his time, savoring the way you’re laid out before him. His hands run over your reddened skin, soothing the sting he’d so carefully crafted moments before. “You’re so perfect like this,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?”

You can only whimper in response, your voice lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. You feel his fingers slide between your thighs, teasing you just enough to make you arch into his touch, desperate for more.

“Tell me what you need,” he commands, his voice deep and authoritative.

“You,” you gasp, barely able to form the words. “I need you, Spencer. Please.”

He chuckles softly, clearly satisfied with your response. “Good girl,” he praises, his fingers dipping inside you briefly, just enough to make you moan in frustration when he pulls back. “But I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please,” you whimper, your body trembling with need. “Please, Spencer, I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

Spencer’s breath hitches at your words, his resolve almost breaking. He leans over you, pressing his lips to the back of your neck as he aligns himself with you. “You’re going to feel every inch of me,” he promises, his voice low and rough. “And I’m not going to stop until you’re completely spent.”

You turn over again, letting your thighs fall open, giving him a full view of your soaked cunt. "Please, Spencer."

With that, he pushes into you slowly, savoring the way you gasp and arch beneath him. The sensation of him filling you is overwhelming, the mix of pleasure and the remnants of the stinging pain creating an intoxicating blend that has you crying out in pure bliss.

Spencer sets a rhythm that’s both torturous and perfect, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips with enough force to leave marks, pulling you back to meet him with every movement. The sounds of skin against skin fill the room, the only other noise your combined moans and gasps of pleasure.

“Do you like this?” he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Do you like how I’m making you feel?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your voice breaking with the intensity of it all. “I love it, Spencer, I love you.”

He growls in response, his pace quickening as he drives you closer to the brink. The tension in your body coils tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap, and then, with one final, deep thrust, you’re thrown over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure so intense that you can’t help but scream his name.

“Who’s fucking you this good?” Spencer grunted, his hips slamming relentlessly against yours.

You replied with a noise just short of a scream, clinging to his biceps. He has you pretzeled underneath him, one leg slung around his hip, the other over his shoulder. The raw spots of your ass brush against his thighs with each thrust, each one a rush of excitement

He brought a hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him through hooded eyes. “What’s my name, darling?” He asked, huffing as he kept his pace up.

“Spencer!” You whined, clawing at his shoulders. Your voice gave out soon after, little squeaks escaping as you chase your high.

He pulled away, panting. “Over. All fours.”

You obliged, turning and arching your back as he propped your hips up. He slid a pillow beneath you, gripping the corners to hold your hips up. You gripped the sheets, wailing as he pushed into you again. He pumps a few times before pulling your wrists to the small of your back, pulling you so you’re back to front with him.

“Spence,” you whined, eyes screwed shut.

He laughs, actually laughs. “What are you crying for, princess?” He says, his lips grazing against your ear. “I’m giving you what you want.”

Your head falls back and you sigh as his kisses begin to get heavier, teeth involved now. You hear his wet kissing noises grow until you feel his teeth sink into your skin. You yelp, hands begging to be freed but his grip tightens.

“Don’t make me get the tie,” he threatened lowly. “I don’t want to leave your pretty little cunt empty.”

You whimpered at his words. “Don't,” you begged quietly, feeling tears roll and drop onto your chest. “I can’t-“

Spencer stopped, bottomed out. “Or maybe I should.” He began to slide out of you, leaving just the tip inside. “Good girls deserve to get fucked, but you haven’t been a good girl, have you?”

“No, Spence. I haven’t.” The gravel in your tone makes your voice unfamiliar. “But please, I’ll do whatever you want me to- anything. Just please let me cum again.” You craned your neck to look him in the eyes. “Please.”

His eyes softened. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered back.

He watches your face scrunch up then relax in pleasure as you gasp when he fully enters inside you. His palms go to the part of your thighs below your knees. He forces them to open wider, rocking gently at first.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said softly.

You nod and take a deep breath. Another orgasm begins, your body going rigid as your breath catches in your throat. This time he lets you finish, letting your hands go. You catch yourself on the mattress, whining as you fuck yourself back onto him. He’s stopped moving, letting you use him as his hands roam over your back as he coats the inside of your walls with his own arousal. When you’re finished, you fall forward, his cock slipping out of you in the process.

You lay like that for a few seconds, ass in the air, catching your breath. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you beg him not to touch you for a moment. Your hand is in the air, palm flat. He respects your space, showering you in compliments and thank you's. You stop him when an apology leaves his lips.

“Don’t be,” you said, eyes still closed but your voice is firm.

You can hear him smile. “Can I touch you again?”

You nodded.

Without wasting another moment, Spencer propped you up by your hips again, spreading you with both hands. Spencer sighed at the sight of your cunt, his cum slowly dripping out of you. You flinched as he ran his thumb through your folds, swiping your clit in an up and down motion. You moaned at the feeling. The coil in your abdomen tightened and released in record time, your hands twisting in the sheets as you wailed out his name again.

You flipped over, legs on either side of him. He pulled you up against him, your ass again this chest.

He let go of your clit with a pop sound just to go back and suck it even harder. Your back arching as your mouth and throat were dry from all the moaning and crying, your grip on his hair becoming tighter. You let out one loud moan, your legs shaking and squeezing Spencer’s head between them. You feel a warm gush as he pulls away, marveling at the mess he’s made. His eyes are sparkling, jaw slack as he studied how your body reacted. He licked a swipe up your folds, catching everything he could on his tongue. He leans over you, opening your mouth. You let him, nodding as you placed your hand on the back of his neck. 

He spits the mixture of his and your cum into your mouth. You swallow it down, opening your mouth to prove that it’s gone. You collapse into the bed, sticky and fucked out. Spencer stands up, picking up his boxers from the floor before going to the bathroom. He returns a few minutes later with a warmed washcloth. He drapes it over your warm cunt before using it to wipe away any of tonight’s mess. A water bottle is pressed into your hand and you let it roll out of your palm. 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, one hand cradling your head. 

You nod, finally opening your eyes. His hair is tousled, sticking to his forehead in some places. “I’m alright, Spencie.” 

He grinned. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

+++

The next morning, the BAU office was alive with the usual hustle, but the moment you walked in, the energy shifted. Your steps were slower than usual, each movement causing a slight grimace. As you made your way to your desk, every head turned, curiosity etched on the faces of your colleagues. You could feel the weight of their stares, but you were determined to play it cool. Sliding into your chair with a quiet hiss, you placed your jacket beneath you for some added cushion. It didn’t help much, but it was better than nothing.

Morgan, always the first to break the silence, leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. “Damn, girl, what happened to you? Looks like you went ten rounds in the ring.”

Emily shot you a teasing glance, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or, more likely, someone had a very intense evening.”

You gave them both a tired but amused look, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Let’s just say I had an… interesting night. And I’m definitely feeling it this morning.”

Before anyone could press further, Spencer strolled into the bullpen, a noticeable spring in his step. He approached your desk with a smugness that only you could truly decipher, carrying a cup of coffee like it was a trophy. With a self-satisfied grin, he placed the cup in front of you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Good morning, love,” he said, his voice laced with a warmth that made you both roll your eyes and smile.

“Morning,” you replied, reaching for the coffee, grateful for the momentary distraction.

But as Spencer straightened up, you noticed something that made your stomach flip—he had a shit-eating grin on his face. That was when it hit you: he was enjoying this. He knew exactly what the team was thinking, and he was reveling in it.

You watched him saunter over to his desk, pretending to be oblivious to the shocked whispers and side glances being exchanged across the room. But you knew better. That grin, the slight swagger in his walk—Spencer Reid was basking in the glory of his teammates’ surprise.

Morgan’s jaw dropped, and he pointed a finger at Spencer, then back at you. “Did you guys see that? I mean, I thought Reid was a little more- damn!”

Emily smirked, shaking her head in disbelief. “I did not see that coming. Who knew Spencer had it in him?”

JJ chuckled, giving you a look that was part admiration, part amusement. “Looks like there’s a lot we don’t know about Spencer.” She nodded, mouthing, we’ll talk about this later.

Rossi chimed in, a bemused expression on his face. “Well, you know what they say, it’s always the quiet ones.”

You glanced over at Spencer, who was now seated at his desk, diligently pretending to be engrossed in his paperwork. The grin on his face, however, betrayed his true feelings—he was thoroughly enjoying the attention, playing the part of the humble genius who just happened to surprise everyone.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easy. No, Spencer Reid was going to pay for that smug grin, just not today. And probably not tomorrow. You needed to recover first, but in a few days… oh, you were going to give him his. And it would be worth the wait.

[cheriladycl01]

First time - Lando Norris x Innocent! Reader

Plot: Lando finds out his girlfriend is more innocent than he ever thought and that turns him on hard core.

Warnings: SMUT Innocence Knik etc MINORS DNI 18+

When Lando first started dating you he knew you were pretty innocent and oblivious to the world around you.

The first time he noticed it was when he first met you. You were in a club and he sat back watching you the whole night, run around like mother hen after your friends who ... arguably weren't being good friends to you and were using you as their sober ride home.

You were making sure your friends had clean drinks straight from the bartender and handing them tissues or hand gels when they touched anything dirty.

Your friends had left you that night, leaving Lando to take the opportunity to come and introduce himself. He wasn't shocked to find out this was your first time in a club, that you hated it and wanted to go home.

"So, what brings you to Monaco?" he'd asked you and you gave him this big gummy grin that he couldn't help but fall in love with.

"My friends and I are on a girls trip celebrating graduation!" you answered, trying not to yell incase the music went quiet but loud enough so he could hear.

"And that's why they've all abandoned you?" he chuckled walking you over to the bar.

"Yeah, I think they just have different ideas of fun than I do, we saw some really beautiful museums earlier which was my idea!" you smile thinking back to the earlier part of the day which you had favoured.

"Drink?" he asks you and you smile nodding your head.

"I'll have a Coors again and ..." he says naming his beer before looking at you.

"I'll just have a Spite please!" you order in French from the bartender who smiles at you.

"You can order something more expensive like alcohol i don't mind!" he smiles down at you, only for you to shake your head.

"I erm, don't drink! I've never drank alcohol actually!" you smile, pretty proud of you lifestyle.

"Yeah, I used to say I didn't drink and then my friends introduced me to it. Never been the same since!" he frowns in a joking manner making you laugh.

"You're funny!" you giggled.

You guys talked for the rest of the night, until it was the closing hours of the club and you had to part ways.

He'd regretted not getting your number.

The next time he met you was a complete coincidence. He was travelling around and caving in Vietnam. You were there building sustainable housing on your year after graduating. He knew it was you right away and everyone was so confused when he went running of to go say hello to you.

After that he got your number. He had to secure it after a second chance of meeting you which he'd been considering was gods gift to him.

After a few dates and texting back and forth for a while you started dating.

"Y/N, can we talk about something serious?" he'd asked you and you nodded coming to sit next to him on the sofa in his apartment.

"Yeah what's wrong?" you ask him with a frown thinking you'd done something wrong.

"How would you feel, about becoming my girlfriend..." he asks before presenting you with a little gift bag in papaya orange that had chocolates, flowers, a little card and a pair of expensive Cartier earrings. Not that you knew that until you got back to the hotel you were currently staying in and opened them up.

"Oh my! Yes! Please" you replied happily and he was trying so hard not to laugh at your super polite and formal answer to his ... well what now felt like a proposition

You were so happy and getting to spend time with Lando was everything! You came to races and everyone adored you, not just the people in McLaren with Lando but all the TV presenters, the fans and the other teams.

Lando was confused that after having dated for three months you hadn't done anything within a sexual nature. Not that it was an issue for him but he was just used to his girlfriends being bold and upfront compared to you, who was a little shyer and more reserved.

He knew he just needed to be a grown up and talk to you about it but he didn't think he could have this conversation with you. It felt wrong almost.

"Baby, can we talk?" Lando says patting the sofa while you were in the kitchen starting to prep for the lunch you were going to make the both of you.

"Yeah, what's wrong? Did I do something?" you ask looking at him carefully and taking a seat next to you.

"No, no not at all. It's kinda the opposite actually!" he laughs at his own joke not thinking you'd take notice of it.

"I haven't done something? I - did i forget to do my dished? I'm so sorry if i did!" you say looking back to the sink frantically thinking you'd missed your glass of orange juice and bowl of cereal you'd had this morning.

"No no, and don't think of it that way. I was just joking around - erm, I just wanted to say we've been dating for a while now and I was hoping we could start to be more intimate?" he asks holding your hand and your eyes widen and your cheeks redden.

"I- erm" you start to stutter and he rubs his thumb over your hand.

"We don't have too... if you don't want too! But I just wanted to ask!" he rushes out not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"It's just that ... I've never ever done anything like that!" you say looking at him with those innocent doe eyes that made him go crazy.

"Like never ever?" he asks in shock, you were a gorgeous girl and even when he was out with you, guys would always be coming up to you, making conversation and flirting with you.

Now that he thought about it, you never actually could tell when you were being lightly flirted with. You were very oblivious too all moves guys made, unless they were literally asking for you number.

"Mmmm no, I mean ... you know you're like my first boyfriend right?" you ask him, cocking your head to the side.

"Wait, you've never been with anyone else other than me?" he asks, and fights to keep the smirk off his face. There was something so dirty, about the fact that you were so pure and untouched, and that it turned him on that he would be the first, and hopefully last to show you everything he could.

"No" you whisper and he looks at you, before cupping your face and pulling you in for a soft kiss.

"Will you let me show you, everything I want to?" he asks looking at you, brushing some of your hair behind you so he has full view of your collarbone.

"Yes..." you breathe out, feeling flutters in your stomach at both his words and actions.

"Now?" he asks with a little gulp, hoping the answer would be a yes.

"Yes, show me now Lan!" you say, climbing onto his lap getting excited about the actions to come.

"Okay, baby. Lets slow down" he laughs holding you in place. He shifts about so he's comfortable and starts to run his hands over your body. Little goosebumps rise to the surface coating your arms as his fingers roam across your collarbone, down over your clothed boobs and down until he had a firm grip on your hips.

"As much as I like your wearing my shirt baby, I'm going to take it off you now, is that okay?" he asks looking you in the eyes and you nod, looking down a little intimidated by the intense eye-contact.

"Words baby, you gotta tell me" he smiles at you and you smile.

"Yes, you can"

And he does, he fingers brush against you and a groan comes out of his mouth as he see's what he's been missing out on seeing. Your perky tits were currently clad in an orange coloured bra. He didn't know if that was a normal colour for you or if you'd brought it since dating the McLaren driver.

"You are so fucking beautiful" he says looking at you, teasing against the straps of your bra before slowly pulling down each of them, before reaching round the back and unclasping it so it fell off you.

In reflex your hands came up, to cover your exposed chest, it wasn't something you were used too.

"I want to see and touch baby, please let me!" he says softly.

You felt comfortable and confident enough with Lando that you felt like you could show this part of yourself to him, a part that no-one apart from you had seen.

The moment was getting more and more intimate as his hands started to fondle your boobs, pinching squeezing and kneading. Lando learning what you liked from the noises you were making as he continued.

The more intimate it got, the hotter and more impatient you got with the new sensation in you stomach and the slickness and heat building between your legs.

Naturally, your body is craving friction. Your mind is going haywire not really knowing what to do to get the relief its craving. So your body automatically started to grind down on him, and you could feel just how excited he was getting with the large bulge building in his sweatpants.

You could tell it was something he liked too from the little whines and groans that came out overtime pressure was applied.

"I- I want to make you feel good. But I don't know how" you offer and he nods.

"Do you want me to show you?" he asks and you nod. He takes your hand and starts to help you palm him through his joggers, breathy moans coming from him.

"That's it, and when your ready you can take them off" he breathes out softly, not wanting to rush you into anything.

You take him out of his jogger, having a grip on him that was tight and he couldn't help but moan at the sensation.

"That's it baby. Now just run your hand up and down in a fisting motion!" he says, but you make no move to start, his head that was thrown back raises to look at you in question.

"Can you show me?" you ask, wide eyes and he nods, taking your hand that was around him in his as he helps you start to move up and down, showing the pace and grip that he liked. His moans were constantly flowing out now as he let go to grip the edges of the sofa and lean back. You started to go a little faster, before slowly right down and placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I heard... from friends that you really like when we use our mouths?" you ask and look at him.

"You dont have to if you don't want to" he groans.

"I- will you enjoy it?" you ask.

"I think i'd enjoy anything you did to me"

"Then i want to do it" you nod and he sits up a little more.

"Okay, get on your knees baby..." he directs and you get to the floor in between his legs.

"You want my help?" he asks and you nod, he takes your hair into a ponytail to keep it out your face.

"Okay, open baby. Remember no teeth baby, it hurts!" he smiles and you start by what you thinks right and go straight in. You gag a little and he pulls you head back from the grip.

"No need to rush hunny. Just start with the head, and then you'll feel a vein on the underside that always feels good, okay? But don't rush to fill your mouth up okay?" he chuckles a little bit as he watches you listen to him.

You start with small movements around his tip, moving your tongue over his slit where pre-cum is leaking out. It was a strange taste that the first few times had your eyes screwing but you slowly got used to it.

You run your tongue along the underside feeling the throbbing vein he was talking about and he went crazy, moaning above you and desperately trying not to thrust up.

You slowly take more and more in your mouth and what you cant fit you decide to use your hands to cover the rest and use the movements you were doing earlier.

"Holy fuck! Are you sure you havent done this before baby?" he asks in shock of how good it feels. Maybe it was just because he was so in love with you that it felt 10x better than he ever had, or maybe you were just a quick learner and good at observing what he liked.

A minute later and he was coming into your mouth, you were quick to swallow all of him and leave his dick with a string of saliva attaching you together.

"Fucking hell baby" he smiles pulling you up onto his lap resting you on top of him, your knees either side of him.

"Was that good?" you ask, shyly. He can only nod as he catches his breathing.

"Your turn!" he smirks, one had on your hip the other one inching up your inner thigh under the skirt you were in. His hands starts to rub your clit through your underwear, and he smiles as your head falls into the crook of his neck and he can feel your breathing pick up against him.

His fingers curl round the edge of your panties pulling them to one side rubbing his fingers through your wet folds.

"Is this all for me baby!" he asks using his free hand to run through your hair as you keep your head in the crook of his neck rocking against his movements. His fingers eventually find there way in, the stretch a little painful at first.

"It's okay, it'll start to feel good in a minute" he says rubbing your back comfortingly.

"Tell me if i should stop yeah?" he asks and you just nod before quickly shaking your head, realising that may have come across as you want him to stop when you really don't now that a coil is building in your stomach and his fingers are feeling incredible inside you.

"Lando!" you whine starting to kiss along his neck and jaw, needing to occupy yourself with something to focus on the growing feeling inside you.

"Fuck baby, the things you do to me!" he exclaims feeling himself get hard again from the whole intimate situation occurring.

In seconds you're letting that coil go, not being able to hold it in any longer and gushing over his fingers. He pulls them out, taking them into his mouth, licking them clean groaning at the taste of you, his gorgeous girlfriend.

"I gotta have a taste of you baby!" he practically whimpers out, before laying you on the sofa and spreading your legs open. You shyly try to shut them but he just tuts.

"Lemme baby please!" he says softly and he stop resisting against his hands. He dives in, nipping and licking at the parts he knows are most sensitive, before devouring you as if your a five course meal. It felt incredible, better than his hands and you legs were shaking the whole time.

Your mind was fuzzy and you could only let out little swear words and his name to let him know just how good he was making you feel.

And only minutes later and you were releasing into his awaiting mouth where he fully cleaned you up. He draw back, a small sheen on his nose and corners of his mouth from your release that had you blushing.

"Lets finish this in the bedroom yeah?" he asks and you nod eagerly as he picks you up tossing your over his shoulder, giving your arse a light tap on the way out that had you giggling and squealing.

He places you gently on the bed hovering over you. He starts to take the rest of the clothing that was left on you off and chucking it to the floor before he starts to take his own off. He reaches into the bedside draw, grabbing a condom and opening it with his teeth before rolling it on.

"You are so beautiful baby! Are you ready?" he smiles, now lining himself up with your entrance. You hesitate for a split second, before remembering its your incredibly kind and beautiful and caring boyfriend Lando above you right now who wouldn't dream of hurting you.

"Yes" you nod, and he slowly starts to push himself into your warm, wet caverns. He moans at the tight feeling of you, kissing across your neck and collarbone trying to help you un-tense a little.

"Baby, you gotta relax" he guides you, starting to play with your boobs to get you feeling good. He pushes in a little more when he feels that you arent tensing as much and you sigh.

"Woah, your so big!" you exclaim, thinking he'd bottomed out from the stretch as you try regain your breath.

"Baby... hate to break it to you but I'm only halfway inside you" he laughs with a chuckle, nearly loosing his balance on his forearms that he is using to hold himself steady above you.

"What?" you ask opening your eyes too look at your laughing boyfriend.

"Thank you for the compliment though baby, that makes me feel really good about myself" he says honesty before he pushes the full way in, finally bottoming out. You wiggle a little trying to get comfortable before giving him a nod where he starts to move in and out of you.

It starts to progressively feel better and better to the point where you can start meeting his thrusts to make it a little quicker. The sounds in the room are anything but innocent, both of your breathy moans and your high pitched whines when he reaches in between you to rub circles on your clit and the sound of slapping skin.

"Lando fuck! I love you" you cry as the pressure builds up and up.

"I fucking love you too" he breathes out, his thrusts coming a little sloppier.

And soon your both releasing at the same time as he pulls you in closer to him, almost laying all his weight on you.

"I'm like so glad we had that talk!" Lando laughs pulling himself up to look at you.

"Me too, I cant wait for you to show me more!" you grin pulling him into a kiss making him groan and grab the pillow to put over his face. He was exhausted but ... round 2 sounded like a shout.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[ihavenomouthandimustmouth]

It seems like a lot of the anti-transmasculinity/transandrophobia discourse revolves around the ideas that either this does not occur, does not occur in real life, or is just transmascs viewing criticisms of transmisogynistic transmascs as oppression, so here’s a story.

I live with some other people around my age, and I stopped using my deadname with them earlier this year. it hasn’t been that long, about 3 months, but generally, they use my correct name with an occasional mistake, usually followed up by a correction. one of them, however, just cannot seem to stop deadnaming me, often without correcting afterwards. when they do notice they’ve gotten it wrong, it’s usually followed up by a big thing about how they don’t know why they’re so bad at it or blaming it on being drunk if they’re drunk, but often not an apology.

an additional piece of this—my partner, who is a trans woman, changed the name they use around the same time, but this person almost always gets her name right. this person knows me a bit better/longer than they do her, but not that much better/longer, and generally, when I am around them, my partner is also there. (adding a cut here because this is gonna be long)

I talked with my therapist about this at my last session. I was seeking advice on how to handle it, but I also spent a lot of time just complaining and running through different incidences of this happening. I ended up telling her about some of the weird things this person said to me when I first started socially transitioning, including them saying that they were sad when I came out because they (direct quote) “didn’t want to stop seeing me as a genderless elf” (???!?) (I had previously identified as nonbinary and used any pronouns) and followed that up by saying that they hated men, which they then followed up by saying “not trans men though” (which like okay but then why bring that up in this conversation).

In talking my therapist, I circled back to the deadnaming issue and said that I thought this person was doing this to me and not my partner because my partner is more feminine than I am masculine (in social behavior and the way we look as two people that have not started medically transitioning). my therapist pushed back on this and said that, based on all the things I said, it seemed more like this person just didn’t want to see me as a man.

this blew my mind a little because I, a transmasculine person who spends way too much time on trans and transmasc internet, did not put the situation in this context while my therapist, a cis woman who is supportive but not super aware of the trans experience, did. it made a lot of sense though, and fit into the context of my other experiences and interactions with this person.

this person is a nonbinary person who has never identified as or been seen as a man. they are supportive of trans people generally and of their rights. they are also someone who believes that woman are inherently better than men. this generally doesn’t have much of an impact on the cis men we live with—for them, this more comes as being around for jokes that might make them a little uncomfortable, but doesn’t stop them from being seen as men. for me, this means I have to deal with the fact that this person doesn’t want to see me as a man and deadnames me accordingly, seemingly because they see me transitioning as a loss.

my point here is that when transmasculine people say that there are issues they face specifically related to them being transmasculine, that’s not a lie or a hypothetical. there is a stark contrast between the way this person treats my transfem partner and myself (and, after talking with someone who’s lived here with this person for longer, other transmasculine people who have lived in the house). they are supportive of trans people as a group, but not of transmasculinity, and I have to deal with the consequences.

[appocalipse]

MAKE IT EASY : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2 ❥・3.8k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

requested by my beloved @stevebabey 🥺

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.

・❥・

It was the epitome of a terrible idea.

And it had started that day. 

The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work — not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.

You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.

Weird.

"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."

It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because — luckily — things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.

He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kinda…There's something I wanted to-"

You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, just…can we talk?"

"Of course."

He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"

For Steve, of course you could.

Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.

He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."

Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"

Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest and…vulnerable?

"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish… but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it. 

Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?

"But why would you-"

"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."

"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?" 

You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.

Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground. 

"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me like…well, you know how they treat me."

Indeed, you knew.

Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.

And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.

+

It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.

But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.   

Why are you trying so hard, though?

"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.

There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise.  

With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake. 

You're late. 

Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself into…you just can't reach it.

The doorbell rings.

The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?      

You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.

HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve. 

You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help — mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.

"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"   

Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.

"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes.  

"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words. 

If he notices, he doesn't say anything.  

Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne — citrusy fruit and wood notes — as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.    

For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipper…or something else entirely. 

His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.

"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."  

You laugh.   

"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."

A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door...   

Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of you…

Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.

"Thank you... for the flowers."

The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.   

"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"

Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none.  

"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."

It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner.   

So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.

"You okay?"  

Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes.  You must have taken too long.

"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"

Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.

You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.

Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parents…but why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"

There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.

"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"

"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"

He looks away for a moment before answering.

"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."

You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.

"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."

Steve smiles briefly and nods.

"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."

You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.

Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.

As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.

The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.

It's not like you expected anything different.

"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."

"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."

Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.

Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.

All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.

You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."

Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.

Thank you, he mouths.

You smile back.

During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.

Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at least…unusual.

As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.

By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.

As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.

"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?

As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.

"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.

In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.

When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after you— out of politeness, mind you — said it's really not necessary. 

"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."

You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."

"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration there…maybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.

The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one night…doesn't it?

Are you imagining this?

"Steve..."

You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.

He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skin….and then it's over.

Steve pulls back slowly. 

"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank you…for today."

"You're welcome."

It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind. 

Well…shit.

The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors — which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.

With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.

"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.

Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Well, too late.

"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"

His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.

"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"

"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."

"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."

He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.

"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.

"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."

You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.

He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.

Breathe in. 

The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.

Breath out. 

You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean to…but he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"

"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."

I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck — because of course  it had to — the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.

"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."

There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.

Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."

Oh.

"Steve-"

Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.

"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.

Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.

"I did it!"

His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close — and technically partly undressed — you are.

And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.

Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.

Kissing.

Did he notice that too?

You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, well…no matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.

"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybe…

Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next. 

So close...

You hold still.

In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing. 

"Steve…" you slowly tilt your head to the side.

Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more. 

He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closer…but he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.

He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."

Bam.

Door closed.

And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.

He just…pulled away. 

What the hell was that?

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Tiny Paws, Big Adventures

Word count: 773

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader, ft. Leo

Summary: you and Charles Leclerc enjoy a peaceful day in Monaco with your playful dachshund, Leo, as you talk about expanding your little family and cherish the quiet moments away from the racetrack

______________________________________________________________

You and Charles Leclerc had been dating for a few years now, and your life with him was often fast-paced, filled with race weekends, travel, and the occasional media frenzy. But the quieter moments, especially those spent at home, were your favorite. That’s where Leo, your longhaired dachshund, came in — the tiny, furry heart of your little family.

It was an off weekend, and Charles had promised to spend the day at home with you and Leo. You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you heard the rapid sound of little paws tapping against the wooden floor. Leo darted into the living room, tail wagging furiously, his long, silky fur bouncing as he excitedly scurried around, while Charles followed behind, laughing as he tried to keep up with the energetic dog.

"How is he always faster than me?" Charles chuckled, flopping down on the couch next to you. He leaned over to give you a quick kiss before reaching down to rub Leo's fluffy head.

"Because he’s just as fast as his dad," you teased, smiling at Charles. "Or maybe faster, with those short little legs."

Charles grinned and put an arm around you. "I think he's more aerodynamic."

You laughed, watching as Leo spun around, clearly trying to convince one of you to play with him. "You should take him out for a run. He needs to burn off all this energy."

Charles leaned back, stretching out his arms. "Or maybe he can tire me out," he said, half-joking. "What do you think, Leo? Want to go out?"

At the sound of his name, Leo barked happily, his ears flopping as he danced around in excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh at how much joy a simple walk brought him.

"Alright, alright," you said, standing up to grab Leo’s leash. "Let’s go tire this little guy out."

The three of you headed out for a walk along the quiet streets of Monaco. Leo trotted ahead, his small legs moving quickly as his leash bobbed up and down with every eager step. Charles had one hand loosely holding the leash, while his other hand rested on your shoulder as you walked side by side.

Moments like these were your favorite. When it was just you, Charles, and Leo, away from the cameras and the intensity of race weekends. Charles was always more relaxed at home, and you could see the stress melt away with each step as he walked with you.

"You know," Charles said after a while, looking down at Leo, "I’ve been thinking… maybe we should get him a little friend."

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. "Another dachshund?"

Charles grinned. "Why not? Leo could use some company. Maybe he wouldn’t miss us as much when we’re away."

You laughed softly. "You mean when you’re away. I’m pretty sure he’s happy to have me all to himself when you’re racing."

"Fair enough," Charles chuckled, pulling you a little closer. "But seriously, I think it’d be fun. What do you think?"

You looked at Leo, who was now happily sniffing a patch of grass, his little tail wagging in the breeze. The idea of another longhaired dachshund waddling around the apartment was sweet. "I think it could be nice. But two of them? You’d better be ready for double the trouble."

Charles gave you a cheeky smile. "I can handle it. Besides, you’re the one who always spoils Leo more than me."

"Well, maybe," you admitted with a laugh, playfully nudging him. "But don’t act like you don’t let him sleep on your side of the bed whenever I’m not looking."

Charles feigned innocence. "I would never."

You rolled your eyes, leaning into him as the two of you continued walking, brainstorming names and imagining the chaos of two dachshunds running around the apartment. By the time you made it back home, Leo had finally tired himself out, curling up on the couch the moment you stepped through the door.

Charles flopped down beside him, pulling you onto his lap. You rested your head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. "This is nice," he murmured, his voice soft and content.

You smiled, feeling the same sense of calm settle over you. "It is."

Leo snored softly at your feet, and Charles kissed the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. "I love you, you know?"

"I love you too, Charles."

No matter how hectic life became, you knew that these quiet moments, just the three of you — you, Charles, and little Leo — were what made it all worth it.

[ohbueckers]

EXTRA POINTS. blurb!

pairing, paige bueckers x fem!reader. notes, glasses p fic per request of a few queens… MAMA WORKED AS FAST AS SHE COULD! @thaatdigitaldiary @absolutelydreadful & credits to @justliketoreadsowhat ‘s anon for the detail. warnings, none just fluff? sexual jokes as well because who am i without them, like…

the night air is still pretty warm, the scent of freshly cut grass still tingling your nostrils after the soccer game you attended with paige and her teammates. it had been a long night—filled with cheering, concessions, and paige’s arm constantly draped around your shoulder as she proudly showed you off. she somehow convinced you to tag along, but watching her light up during the game made it worth it.

now, you’re walking back to the dorms, the sound of sneakers and laughter being the only thing heard off the empty sidewalks as the team stalks a few yards in front of the two of you. paige has her hair slicked back into a messy low bun, a few strands falling loose, and her purple glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of her nose. the lenses catch a subtle blue tint from the streetlights, a little detail you can’t stop staring at—honestly, she looks so good, it’s borderline unfair. you never thought purple glasses could be your weakness, but here you are.

“you enjoying the ice cream, or are you too busy staring at me?” paige teases, glancing over with that signature smirk. she knows exactly what she’s doing, making it impossible to look away from her.

“shut up, paige,” you reply with a scoff, although there’s no ruthless intent as you nudge her with your elbow. “i’m just enjoying the quiet now that your fan club’s calmed down.”

“oh, you love it!” she laughs out, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. “don’t act like you don’t love watching me be all famous and stuff. plus, you looked cute taking all those pics with me. so i ain’t complainin.’”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile creeping up on your face. paige had been asked for a picture more times than you could count on your hands, and obviously the tiktoks came with that. she’d dragged you into most of it, keeping you close the whole time, making sure everyone knew you were hers. it was chaotic and you were used to it at this point, and you could admit there was something fun about watching her be in her element.

“alright, maybe it was kinda fun,” you say, taking a bite of the spoonful of ice cream she’d held out for you so casually. the cold hits your tongue, and you savor the flavor for a second before narrowing your eyes at her. “but you still owe me.”

paige jerks her head back, grinning and clearly enjoying herself. “owe you? i’m literally spoon-feeding you right now. how do i still owe you?”

you quirk an eyebrow up at her, leaning in a little as you held her gaze, and it was the kind of look that said enough.

she chuckles, leaning back slightly, still holding the spoon in front of you like she’s ready for round two. “aight, fine, i’ll give you that. but let me get you back at home, baby—i got some ideas.” her voice drops a little lower, clearly playing but also half-serious. she may be all jokes, but she definitely knows how to back them up.

before you can even respond, she takes her own spoonful of your ice cream, the nerve, flashing a cheeky grin before planting a wet, playful kiss right on your lips. the cold of the treat and the warmth of her mouth clash, leaving you squealing and half-laughing, trying to push her away. “paige!” you protest, wiping the ice cream from your lips, but there’s no hiding the wide smile breaking out across your face. she’s such a menace sometimes.

as if one cue, everyone seemed to have glanced back at the right time, catching sight of something straight out of a rom-com.

“yo! they really can’t keep their hands off each other.” kk’s voice cuts through.

“really can’t take them nowhere…” aubrey quips.

sarah laughs, chiming in. “oh, we see you, paige! real smooth,” and morgan practically doubles over in laughter beside her.

paige smirks, and you swore she would’ve thrown up those rizz hands if her hands weren’t full. “what can i say?” you smile yourself, shaking your head at her and leaning into the blonde’s side as the banter from behind fades into the background. as much as paige plays around, the way she’s been with you tonight—keeping you close, showing you off, feeding you ice cream like it’s the most natural thing in the world—it’s those little moments that make it so easy to fall for her. every laugh, every teasing smile, even the way she annoys you, it’s like she knows exactly how to keep your guard down. and honestly, you don’t mind one bit.

“you know, you didn’t have to buy me ice cream,” you say softly, looking up at her.

“nah, i did,” paige replies, her voice gentle. “had to make sure my girl knows i take care of her. plus,” she smirks again, looking away like she’s cooking up some mischievous ass reply. “i’m tryna’ score some extra points for later.”

you laugh, shoving her off of you yet she barely flinches. “yeah, okay, keep dreaming.”

paige pulls you even closer, kissing the side of your head as your arms fall to your sides. she murmurs, “dreaming? nah, i’m ms. make it happen.”

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Day 2: Woods + Day 23: Witch for @steddie-spooktober

"Did you come to burn the witch?"

Steve just blinked at the weird man. He was probably a bit taller than him, with wild curls of hair and a mischievous smile. "Why should I?" he quipped back. "It's fucking hot, I came to the woods to cool down. The last thing I want is to get even warmer. Fire's warm."

The man just snorted. "Oh, I got a smart one today. Good for me." He hopped down from the tree he was sitting in and landed in front of Steve. "Such a pretty one too. They never send someone pretty to burn me."

"Once again, I'm not here to burn you."

The witch clutched his chest. "Ouch. And here I thought we had a spark."

Steve didn't dignify that with a response.

And the witch didn't let that deter him. "You know, a spark? As in...a spark that would start a fire? With, I don't know, a nice stake in the middle?"

Steve groaned and rubbed his temples. "If I agree to burn you, will you let me sweat in peace? I hear a spring nearby and I really need to cool down before I pass out from the heat."

The man shook his head. "You people. You cut down the trees for your villages and then wonder why you get a sunstroke." He glanced at Steve's red face, his sweaty hair, and for a second longer, his damp shirt. "Well, I'm a mean, evil witch, but I'm not that cruel. The spring's this way, come with me."

It only took a while for Steve to take of his shoes and dip his feet into the nearby spring, groaning in relief. The witch was crouched next to him, studying his face. "So really. How did you get here? I thought I was a cautionary tale for all the good children in the village, so they never let you go this way unless you need something."

Steve muttered something unintelligible.

"Huh? What's that?"

"...got lost."

The witch's face broke out in a wide grin. "Did you now? Such a big boy, not seeing the warning signs on the trees?"

Steve just grunted and leaned down to splash his face with water, then drink some. "I don't know, man. Must have been the heat. I was working in a field and fell asleep. Stupid, I know. When I woke up, I was so dizzy I thought it was a great idea to go to the woods. I could barely remember my name - that's Steve, by the way, if you need it for a hex or something. I was walking around for what seemed like ages. Then you asked me to burn you. And here I am."

"And here you are," repeated the witch. "Well, you obviously don't have any matches on you, so we're cool, I guess. Name's Eddie, although I rarely use it."

"Because you're a big bad witch?" snorted Steve.

Eddie shrugged. "Well, yeah. Because when others talk about me, they don't think I'm a person. I'm a boogeyman to them. Someone who kills their crops, trades remedies for firstborn children for dinner...the usual stuff."

"Do they taste good?"

That gave Eddie a pause. "What does?"

"The firstborn children."

Eddie stared at Steve. Steve stared back. Then they both burst into laughter at the same time. "Suppose I should invite you for dinner so you can answer that?" said Eddie after they had finally quieted down.

Steve smiled at him, and Eddie could swear he winked at him. "Suppose you should."

...

Steve stayed for dinner - no children were served, but lots of vegetables and delicious herbs - and Eddie made sure he was fully okay before letting him go. "Sunstroke's no joke, Steve, no sleeping in the field or I'll curse you! Stop giggling, I'll do it! I'll send my cat to eat your ears or something!"

With Steve's footsteps sounding more and more distant, Eddie's cottage grew quiet again. For the fist time in years, he hated it.

The quiet lasted until the next evening, when there was a knock on his door, and behind it, Steve. He was carrying some grapes and apples, a fresh loaf of bread, and it seemed he'd even combed his hair and wore a clean shirt. 

Eddie just stared at him. "You got lost again?" he asked incredulously. Because no one came back to him. Not unless they needed something.

Steve just shushed him and headed directly to the table, setting the plates as if it had been his home too. "You know what's great about all the warning signs on the trees? They will always lead me back to you."

Eddie's face was starting to hurt from all the smiling. "So you can burn me?" he asked with a snort, well, maybe a tiny sob too.

"Burning you would be a shame," said Steve as he lit a small candle on the table, "since I have much better ideas how to spend our evening."

Eddie popped a grape in his mouth. "Funny," he mumbled around it, "so do I."

[worldlxvlys]

control

dealer! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, overstimulation, edging, orgasm denial, p in v, cream pie, cursing, oral (male + fem receiving), 69, drug use

summary: the effects of the weed that you and chris were smoking made you horny enough, but add his recent insta pictures into the mix ? any sense of self-control you had left your body and suddenly, all you could focus on was making him a trembling, whiny mess under you.

a/n: idea credits to my love @hearts4chriss <33

everything was hazy.

my red eyes drooped ever so lightly, eventually fluttering closed as i took a hit from the joint that chris and i were sharing.

the smoke floated around in the air while we spoke about whatever came to our minds, giving each other our full attention.

well, i was paying attention, just not to his words. i wanted to listen to what he had to say, but i couldn’t help but find myself fixating on everything else.

the way his tongue darted out every now and then, wetting his dried lips.

his cheeks, which were lightly dusted with a rosey tint to match the color of his lips.

his hair, strands messily sticking out in every direction, only adding to how good he looked.

the veins in his hand protruded from his skin as he dug into the ice cream he brought over for us, causing me to clear my throat as i attempted to regain my composure.

i watched as he shoveled the sweet dessert into his mouth, just before the half-melted treat could spill anywhere.

“and i was gonna ask you which pictures you think i should post today, but i ended up picking-”

"wait, you posted?” i asked, grabbing my phone from its place beside me on the bed.

my eyes widened slightly when i saw the pictures, he looked so good.

he always looked good, but these pictures in particular turned me on a little more than they should have.

“you’re joking, right ?” i asked, the words flying out of my mouth before i could stop them.

“what?” he asked confused.

the weed seemed to have taken any self-control that remained in my body, as i immediately straddled chris’s lap.

“you didn’t think you were gonna be able to post those pictures without getting your brains fucked out, did you?”

he stared up at me, mouth hanging open while his hands held onto my waist.

“i mean, i don’t-” his mouth opened and closed like a fish, while a jumbled mess of words fell from his mouth.

i hooked my fingers onto the waistband of his shorts, effectively shutting him up as he squirmed in anticipation.

i moved from my place on top of him, situating myself on my knees between his legs.

i pulled the fabric down slightly to reveal his happy trail, immediately adorning the newly exposed skin with kisses.

he let out a low whine at the feeling, hips bucking up into my face.

i quickly pushed his hips down, holding him steady as i ran my tongue along his skin.

“fuck” he sighed out, eyes falling shut as he swallowed harshly.

i could tell that the weed was affecting him, his sensitivity to my touch growing with every movement.

“lift” i told him as he followed my instructions, raising his hips while i pulled his shorts down.

i brought my hand to his clothed dick, which pressed against his boxers angrily.

i pressed a kiss to his crotch, eliciting a low whine from him.

“what do you want, chris?” i asked as i began to palm him.

“need your mouth” he moaned out.

“lay back, take off your boxers” i told him, watching as he eagerly did what i said.

when he was laid fully naked on the bed, i stripped for him.

i joined him on the bed, sitting behind him with my chest pressed to his back.

i wrapped my arms around his waist, my hand finding its way to his dick.

"i- fuck- i said my mouth” he groaned out as i collected the pre-cum that leaked out of his tip in my hand.

“you’ll get my mouth” i spoke as i squeezed his base, his hips jerking up in response, “when i feel like it”

he remained silent after that, only moans and whines leaving his mouth as i continued to move my hand up and down his length.

“does it feel good, chris?” i asked, whispering into his ear while i nibbled the lobe.

“fuck, yes. please don’t stop” he groaned, thrusting his hips up into my hand.

“tell me when you’re close, baby” i spoke before beginning to take the skin of his neck between my lips, sucking harshly.

i littered his neck with dark bruises while he continued to fuck himself against my hand.

“so eager, my love. but if you want to cum, you’ll have to slow down” i told him.

“n-no, please ! i need to cum so bad” he spoke, his pace remaining the same.

“chris. slow down” i spoke again, causing the pace of his hips to slow against my hand.

“there you go, is it so hard to listen?” i asked as he let out a groan.

“fuck” he whispered out as his veiny cock moved against my hand slowly.

“i’m close” he spoke, his breathing picking up.

before he was able to let go, however, i moved my hand away.

“shit” he whined as his cock twitched, but he was left unsatisfied.

“you don’t get to finish that easily, baby. you gotta work for it” i spoke, chuckling as he went to move his hand towards his dick.

i quickly grabbed his hand before he got the chance to touch himself, “keep your hands behind your back. i swear to god, if you move them i’ll tie your ass up” i spoke into his ear.

he did as i said, but never acknowledged that he heard me. i turned his face to look at me, tilting my head at him, “you got that?”

“yes” he whispered as he stared at my lips.

i wrapped my hand around his neck, bringing his face up to mine to pull him into a heated kiss.

he moaned into my lips, while our lips molded together.

“you ok?” i asked him, noticing the dazed look on his face.

“you’re such a freak” he smirked up to me.

“and you’re such a submissive bitch” i answered, letting go of his face and moving my hand back down to his length.

i circled my thumb around his tip, pushing it against the slit, making his hips jolt up into my hand.

“such a tease” he mumbled under his breath.

in one swift motion, i moved to his side and pulled his shoulders back to lay down.

i moved so that each of my legs were on either side of his body.

“you obviously need some help in shutting the hell up” i spoke before moving to sit on his face.

chris immediately hooked his hands around my thighs, working my pussy with his tongue.

i leaned forward, taking his dick into my hand and swirling my tongue around his tip.

he groaned into me, the vibrations intensifying my pleasure.

i moaned against him in response, making his noises increase in volume.

i took as much of him as i could, using my hand to stroke the parts of his member that my mouth couldn’t reach.

he pulled my lower body harder against his mouth, his tongue focusing on my clit while his nose nudged against my needy hole.

i focused on his tip, teasing it as much as i could with my tongue, causing him to push his hips up in need.

i could tell he was getting close, so i removed my mouth from him with an audible pop.

he let out a whine of disappointment, his hands loosening around my thighs.

“you wanna cum so bad? fine.” i spoke as i moved down his body, making my way between his legs.

he sat upright, watching wordlessly as i turned around to face him.

he stared up at me with his mouth hung open while i aligned him with my entrance, sinking down onto him.

his hands automatically flew up to my waist when he bottomed out, stopping me from moving.

“god, i could cum right now if you start moving” deciding to test his limits, i spoke “good” before beginning to move anyway.

“fuck- oh my god” he groaned out as he began to shake underneath me.

i knew his frustrations from his previously ruined orgasm were building up, but i didn’t think it’d actually make him finish so quickly.

“i can’t- holy shit” he shuddered as he shot his load into me.

i gave him a minute to regain his breath, his grip on my hips tightening slightly.

“i still- i wanna make you feel good. please let me fuck you” he begged.

“yeah? give it to me, baby” he lifted me up slightly before beginning to thrust his hips up into mine.

the feeling of his hot cum being fucked into me sent me into a frenzy, only making me wetter.

i could tell he was struggling, overworking his already spent muscles to make sure i felt good.

“you’re so good to me, chris. let me take care of you” i whispered down to him.

his thrusts came to a hault, allowing me to take over as i rocked my hips into his.

“fuck, yes. oh my god” he shakily moaned as his head fell onto my shoulder.

i brought my hand to his hair, raking my fingers through it slowly while i rolled my hips on top of him sensually.

“look so pretty like this, oh” his face scrunched up as he began to whimper under me, making me clench around him at the sound.

“fuck- i’m so sensitive” he spoke.

“i know, baby. can’t help it, love hearing those sounds you make” i breathed out.

“still feeling ok?" i asked.

he nodded his head at that, “yes, so close. can i cum?” he asked as his hands slid to my ass, groping and massaging the skin.

“wait for me, i’m almost there. can you hold it w little longer?” i asked, reaching between us to rub my clit.

“t-too much” he whined, his face scrunching up while a few tears fell down his face.

“take it, chris” i told him, wiping his tears away while he twitched inside of me.

his legs began to shake involuntarily, increasing the friction between us.

“fuck” his voice broke as he moaned out, eyes rolling back as he bit his lip.

“go ahead, chris. let go” i told him, his hips stuttering as his head flew back and he filled me up with his cum.

it wasn’t long before i finished on top of him, my release dripping out of me and onto his dick.

we took a minute to catch our breath, staying in the same position for a while.

“here, let’s get you cleaned up” i spoke, moving to get up when he stopped me.

“wait, can we just stay like this for a while?” he asked, his arms wrapping tighter around me.

“of course” i told him, wrapping my arms around his neck to hug his body close to mine.

“you ok?” i asked as i rubbed soothing circles into his back.

“when i’m with you? always” he spoke, placing a kiss to my shoulder.

🍑🍑🍑🍑

dwb! chris masterlist

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[its-your-mind]

ALWAYS rotating TAZ: Balance around in my brain like microwave but ESPECIALLY with the announcement of The Suffering Game graphic novel

The dope thing they can do (and are doing) with the graphic novel series is sprinkle in moments of foreshadowing and hints to the reader about what REALLY might be going on here, which is so cool and I’m a huge fan of it, especially when you’re telling a story in this form.

But what is REALLY FUCKING TASTY about Balance as a story is that none of the motherfuckers telling it had any clue what they were doing when they started

Gerblins is dick jokes and not knowing how dice work and making fun of each other for voices. LICHRALLY the scene where Taako grabs the Umbrastaff is immediately proceeded by Clint trying different voices for Merle while Justin begs him to stop, as Taako. Merle gets launched across the room cuz he failed his save, and now Taako has an umbrella. The scene moves on.

Griffin brought them up to the BOB, introduced them to the Director, and gave them memories of a war fought over nameless, lost, powerful but mysterious artifacts. The memory that Taako takes from it is the idea of soured cream (ya know, for his taco quest).

And then they’re off, on different adventures, making friends, saving lives, making more dick jokes, and Griffin is in the background, slowly building in the meta-plot, as all DMs do.

But this meta-plot was HUGE. It was ALL-CONSUMING. It completely changes everything we know about this world and these characters. It takes the moments of dick jokes, and arguments about character voices, and flirting with death, and adds a layer of tragedy and complexity that just wasn’t present the first time they told that story.

AND THAT’S WHY THIS STORY KICKS ASS. The vibe of the story changed as Tres Horny Boys grew closer and closer to remembering the lives they had lost, as Griffin upped the stakes, as people started dying. They still don’t know shit for most of The Suffering Game, but you absolutely could not have predicted the tone of that arc after just listening to Gerblins. It sounds like a completely different story. And so when the other shoe drops, when shit breaks bad, when it’s the end of the world… again, and they have to reclaim their Stolen Century…

It makes sense. The tone has shifted enough to accommodate that kind of change. The characters have grown (back) into themselves enough to make this work.

Because TAZ: Balance is a tragedy. But the tragedy happened before the podcast even started, and had been erased. So of course it started off with goofs and dildo jokes. Of course the three of them started being standoff-ish with each other and making light of every situation that should have had a lot more weight. They didn’t know what they had lost, and we, the audience, didn’t either. So it was easy to laugh and joke… until slowly, it wasn’t so much anymore.

Plenty of people have praised Griffin’s storytelling abilities, but I think the thing that was most impressive to me was how he took the disparate threads laid out behind the Boys on their adventures, and followed them backwards, into the story they had lost, and forwards, into the ending they earned. I fucking love that he settled on Istus as the deity to interact with them, because I don’t think there’s a better representation of the story Griffin was weaving behind the scenes of the arcs.

Story and Song wasn’t really an arc driven by dice rolls and role playing - but it wasn’t railroading either. Griffin took every story they had told, every happy ending they had fought for, and twined them around and through each other. The world was saved not because of a lucky nat 20 roll, but because every person they had helped through the story came out in force to fight beside them to save their world.

And so in the end, the Stolen Century was a tragedy. But The Adventure Zone: Balance was a story of hope, of family, of the power that just a few loveable doofuses can have when they move through the world, making friends and saving lives. So when the world was ending and they needed help, there were dozens of people waiting to hear the Story and the Song that would give them the push they needed to fight, and the hope they needed to win.