#and I think some people just don’t have patience for games that make you wait

[neotula]

absolutely insane to look up a game I’ve been busy investing 40-50 hours in with no sign of the end in sight and see people saying it’s a 10-20 hours before you get bored kind of game and man, we are two different types of gamers, clearly

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

[fastandcarlos]

Pregnant Pranks : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: lewis loves to mess with you, but messing with a pregnant lady unleashes a whole new world of fury

Your eyes widened in horror as you walked into the kitchen, opening up the cupboard you scanned the shelf, unable to find the jar of gherkins that you had placed that earlier in the day after your shop. 

“Lewis!” You shouted through the house, watching him walk through with a mischievous smile etched upon his face. “Where are they?” You asked, knowing this had his name all over it. 

It had been a bit of a thrill for Lewis to keep you on your toes during your pregnancy, he loved winding you up and testing how far he could push you with all your hormones. Most days you ended up being on the end of some sort of prank whilst Lewis tried his best to keep you positive. 

If you asked Lewis, the worst thing about your pregnancy was your cravings. The smells that travelled through your house were disgusting to say the least, with Lewis often walking around having to pinch his nose. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you warned, placing your hand over the top of your bump. “I know you don’t like them, but getting rid of them isn’t the way to go about this.” 

Lewis’ head nodded as you noticed him looking above your head and into the cupboard. He could feel you staring across at him, tapping your foot on the floor as you impatiently waited for some sort of answer from him.  

Whilst you stood in annoyance, Lewis couldn’t help but smile, watching as you glanced completely unaware of just how close what you wanted was actually to you. 

“What are you looking for?” Lewis questioned, closing the distance between the two of you, placing his hands on your shoulders. 

“You know what I’m looking for,” you frowned, hitting your hand against his chest. “Do you get some sort of sick kick out of tormenting pregnant people?” 

The more Lewis smiled down at you, the more irritated you became. You didn’t ask for much, all you wanted was for him to tolerate the one thing that you needed to satisfy your cravings. 

“One day I’m going to get you back for all of this, you better sleep with one eye open,” you challenged, only to be greeted by even more laughter from Lewis. 

He leant forwards and pressed a kiss to your stomach, moving his hands to rest against your bump. “The baby doesn���t feel as if they want any of that stinky food right now.” 

“I’m telling you they want it,” you bluntly responded, patience running thin. “So, before I go and smash one of your cars up, can you tell me where they are please?” 

“Do you really think I believe you’d do such a thing?” 

You tried your best to keep your gaze looking serious, but Lewis knew you so well knowing that you would never even dream of doing such a thing, especially when you loved his car so much too. 

“Stop smiling, this isn’t funny,” you groaned, turning around to look again. 

“It is a tad,” Lewis smiled as you went up onto your tiptoes, trying to get a better look in the cupboard. 

You followed Lewis’ eyes once more, catching the shine of the gherkin jar hanging off the very top shelf. Your eyes went wide as you stretched up as tall as you possibly could, trying your best to swat the jar off of the shelf. Each time you failed, groaning when you placed your feet back down again. 

“You’ve had your laugh; now can you get them please?” You politely asked Lewis, “I cannot even begin to tell you how badly I’m craving these. I’ll even go and eat them in the garden Lewis.” 

“Why do you even crave them? They’re disgusting,” he frowned, shaking his head across at you but still keeping stuck to his spot, watching you closely. 

As he smiled with delight you decided to change your tactics, knowing you could play his game too. You grabbed one of the dining chairs and lined it up with the front of the cupboard, making sure that it aligned perfectly with the small sighting of the jar you had. 

“I guess I’ll just get it myself then,” you told yourself, placing one hand on the chair and one on the counter. 

Lewis continued to watch you without much of a care, but as you went to lift your foot up and place it on the chair to push yourself up, Lewis grabbed a hold of your hips and placed you on the other side of the room. 

“I’ve got it,” he quickly told you, reaching up with ease and taking the jar from the shelf, handing it across to you. “Were you really going to stand on a chair to get that down?” 

Your shoulders shrugged back at him, “I wasn’t messing when I told you how bad I was craving them. I’d go to some pretty extreme lengths when it comes to pregnancy cravings love.” 

“You can’t be doing things like that to me babe.” 

You unscrewed the lid and grabbed a fork from the cutlery drawer, quickly beginning to tuck in. Lewis’ face squirmed as he watched you start eating, unable to stop himself from judging you. Your face lit up at the delicious taste, sniggering at the look of disgust that Lewis wore instead. 

“I guess we can both play that game,” Lewis smiled as he grabbed a chair and placed it next to you for you to sit down. “Maybe it’s about time that I let you relax a little bit more whilst your pregnant.” 

“Did I scare you then?” 

“Of course,” he laughed, as if it were obvious. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you climbed up onto that chair and something happened, all because I wanted to try and play a stupid prank on you.” 

You were only half listening as you continued to munch on the gherkins, extending the jar to Lewis, offering one, only for his head to shake, swatting you away. 

“You’ve had some pretty good pranks over the past few months, I’ll give you that one,” you told him, “but if there’s one kind of person that you definitely don’t mess with, it’s a pregnant lady.” 

“I’ve learnt that the hard way,” Lewis smiled, taking a seat opposite you. “I don’t think my heart has quite calmed down yet from the fear of thinking that you’d go up there.” 

You couldn’t help but smile knowing that you’d given Lewis a little taste of his own medicine, for all the games he tried to play with you, there was only one number one mastermind in your relationship, and that was you. 

He had plenty in the bank after spending years winding his family up, but soon he would have a new target for all his pranks, looking forward to joking with your baby. He couldn’t wait to mess with them, embarrass them and be as annoying as possible, just like how he was with you. 

“I thought you said you were going to eat those in the garden anyway,” Lewis smiled, feeling your eyes narrow in on him, shooting a glare. 

“If anyone should be out in the garden, it’s you,” you challenged, “I’m going nowhere now that I’ve finally got my hands on these.” 

“You’re going to make me suffer that smell, aren’t you?” 

“Absolutely, and I’m going to love doing it too.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[hysteria-things]

VEGAS

based off of this

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: while on a trip with chris in vegas, you get a little too excited when you see his new instagram post. you just can’t help yourself.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, teasing, masturbation (female), spanking, p in v, slight choking, hair gripping, semi-public, making out

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,029

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: chat i have mixed feelings about this one😔

❝i’m losing my patience, this ain’t staying in vegas!❞

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

this kid. he has to be doing this shit on purpose now, and nothing pisses you off more. he thinks he’s so fucking clever.

for context, matt and chris came to vegas for justin’s big poker game. you decided to tag along, but currently, the three of them are downstairs in the hotel common area to hang out. wanting to give the boys their own time, you stayed in the suite.

you’re sitting on one of the chairs on the balcony enjoying the city sounds and the night sky until your boyfriend decides to do this.

ah, the rule. it’s simple, yet impossible at the same time. chris set it a while ago when you were acting like a brat, and it stuck from that day on. if you break it, you’ll get punished.

RULE ONE: never touch yourself when he’s not there.

let’s face it. you had your hand down your pants the moment you saw that photo.

not caring if people around can hear or see you, your fingers slide in and out of your dripping hole with ease. you make sure to capture it all, the squelching noise and your moans getting louder the faster your movements go. “chris.” you whine, wishing they were his hands instead of yours.

the shake in your legs gets tenser the closer your high gets. “going to cum for you.” you moan into the phone, biting your lip to silence the scream you want to set free. it doesn’t take long for you to make a mess of your digits, exhaling from relief. you don’t hesitate to send the video to him.

heart beating in anticipation, you hear the front door shut not even minutes after the last message. all you do is stare into space and patiently wait for the person you need most to come outside.

his footsteps get closer before the sliding door opens and closes, your innocent-looking eyes finally meeting his as he walks in front of you. he crosses his arms without saying a word, and you spread your legs to show what he does to you. he licks his teeth, admiring the mess sitting between your thighs.

a trail of cum connects from your pussy to a small puddle beneath you on the chair. from the slickness, it’s practically begging for chris’s cock to abuse your insides.

in the blink of an eye, he grabs your calves to pull you to him. you gasp, him cupping your ass to lift you over his shoulder. he gives you one… two spanks before setting you down against the railing.

pressing hard against your clit with his thumb, he moves it in fast circles. “no teasing, please.” you protest, lolling your head back with a moan.

“you’re the one to tell me to not tease?” he scoffs, now moving his thumb slower up and down. “you’re lucky i’m going easy on you tonight.”

looking down ashamed, his hand wraps around your neck, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. your tongues intertwine, the noise wet. chris swallows your sounds of pleasure.

lips travel down to your neck, licking and biting at your skin. not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to drive you crazy. the erection in his pants nudges at your clit, not helping with the sensation you already have there. his breath is hot on your ear, teeth nibbling at the lobe. “turn around.”

when you do, he grips your hair to bend you over the cold steel, lifting his shirt that you’re wearing. you look down at the pedestrians below, who are completely oblivious to the actions happening above them. cars drive by, some horns honking in the distance.

chris’s pants bunch up on the floor when they meet it, aligning himself at where you are desperate. you gasp when you feel his dick stretch your walls, wrapping tightly around him.

before he’s about to thrust into you, you decide to take matters into your own hands. your hips move up and down, fucking yourself on his cock as you grip tightly on the surface in front of you.

groaning contently, he rests his free hand on the small of your back, giving you a spank here and there. licking his lips, he doesn’t take his eyes off the way you bounce back against his pelvis. the way your ass recoils is mesmerizing.

your moans are soft, lids fluttering closed when your legs start to tremble. because of that, you can barely move yourself anymore. then, you feel a hand wrap around the front of your throat once again, lifting your head to rest on a shoulder. “what were you thinking about, hm?” chris asks, thumb grazing your cheek. “what made you cum that hard?”

eyes opening, you shake your head. his hips thrust slowly, hitting that spot nice and deep. “you’re just so handsome.” you whisper, tears glazing your orbs.

his thrusts get more brutal when he kisses you, silent screams leaving your mouth. clicking his tongue, he leaves a smack on your ass. the stinging makes you accidentally cry out before stopping yourself.

he chuckles. “don’t be shy. let everybody know whose cock you’re screaming on.”

your moans get louder the more he hits your g-spot. you take a look down — where you could’ve sworn you made eye contact with a passerby.

the grip on your hair tightens, his dick throbbing against your clenching walls. you’re about to cum, and he’s not far behind you. the speed of his hips has you on your tippy toes, whimpering loud into the las vegas air. “i’m cumming. fuck, i’m cumming!” you squeal, making a mess down his base.

pulling out, your fluids drip down your legs, chris painting your back white. he lets go of your entire body, immediately almost falling to the ground if the railing wasn’t holding you up. you lean your head over it, trying to catch your breath. he smirks at the view.

after all, he’s been with you long enough to know what your cycle is like. perhaps he did make that instagram post on purpose; just for you. knowing that you’d cave. oh, well.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @sturnlcvr @tpvmz @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings

[jaylaxies]

HARD THOUGHT !

pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader

cw: smut, unprotected sex, usage of nicknames.

warning: 18+ content, minors dni

Best friend!Sunghoon had easily convinced you to move in with him. His reasoning sat well with you—low cost and splitting of the rent. As a university student, you would do anything to save up some extra cash and this deal was spot on as it saved you half the amount of your usual living expenses.

However, the provided reason wasn’t even close to what Sunghoon had actually wanted. He knew you had a crush on him, yet you never acted upon it due to your experiences regarding sex and love were limited, which made him want to ruin you beyond words. He was more on the possessive side of the spectrum, which was also laced with jealousy as he hated the idea of anyone else touching his little angel, his kitten.

So he took the matter in his own hands, pulling you even closer to him now that you shared an apartment with each other. He stared at you a little longer, walked around shirtless, his touch on your bare skin lingered for a second too long and you loved it. Your body always reacted to him in such a manner which made him lose his patience each fucking day, until he finally decided to cage you between him and the wall when you had freshly came out of the shower, clad in just your tiny towel.

“You like showing your pretty little body, don’t you, kitten?” He’d whisper in a deep tone, eyes dark as he stared right in your eyes. He could see you biting your lip, your thighs pressing close to each other as you tried to formulate a reply. “What are you talking about Hoonie—” you were shushed with his slender finger, which was now pressed against your lips. “I know you want me, baby. You just have to say it, yeah?” He assured you slow but serious.

You couldn’t wait any longer, not when you dreamed the filthiest of your fantasies with him, not when you touched yourself desperately hoping that it was him instead, even more so when he simply sat in the room next door. You nodded fervently, “want you so much, Hoonie,” you almost whimpered, feeling smaller than ever under his intense gaze.

“Oh baby, I’ll ruin your cunt and fuck you in every corner of this goddamn apartment,” he growled.

He was gentle with you for your very first time, he knew exactly how you’d like it, he was your best friend after all. But you didn’t bother thinking that he’d actually fuck you everywhere. It started from your bedroom, where he took care of your all night, trying his best not to go overboard with you. The next time, he took you to his bedroom. The task was simple, you’ll have to suck his dick and he’d make a mess on your pretty face.

It then progressed to you crying out his name in pleasure as he fucks you from behind on your couch which barely fit two people. He didn’t even leave the kitchen out of the deal as he fucked you on the marble counter, his cock hitting just the right spots as you dug your nails into his shoulders for support. Then he proceeded to take you to the bathroom, the reason was simple again—to save the water.

It didn’t matter if it was your study table or the wall next to the front door, it never mattered if you were on the carpet or his gaming chair, he had to fuck you. As for you, you loved every second of it, he made sure to get your wildest fantasies out of you, only to make them come true.

When you finally crawled up to him, giving him your sweetest smile as you asked him to fuck you, he knew he had won in life.

He had ruined you.

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[strang3lov3]

Under the Table

Roman takes you to dinner. You eat pasta and he eats you (4k)

Tags - smut, stepcest, stepdaddy!roman, age gap, dom!roman, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), public sex, teasing, emotional boners, you make daddy blush and get all bashful so he reminds you who calls the shots, like Dennis Reynolds, Roman has feelings again but he’s still disgustinggggg, does he want to be your father or your daddy, oh he is getting so soft. But someone else is too 🫵 implied almond/alcoholic mom + other mommy issues,,,planting some seeds here don’t mind me,,, Fic help - @beefrobeefcal thank you for brainstorming with me and for giving me your eyeballs! @endlessthxxghts, ditto!! A/N - yeah I wrote a birthday fic for my birthday to my birthday party on my birthday with a birthday gift. shut the fuck up about it. I love you. I think next time we see him he’ll fuck your ass maybe. I don’t know. Someone jump into my inbox and tell me something gross they should do because I need to cancel out this goddamn sweetness. Rotting the teeth right out of my skull smh. also, I know we waited a while for more stepdaddy. I appreciate your patience more than you know 🩷 updates may continue to be slow this month because we’re getting down to the wire with school and all that stuff.

Stepdaddy!Roman Roy

7:34 AM. You wake to texts from old friends and relatives wishing you another happy year around the sun, don’t party too hard and so on and so forth. It does warm your heart to know that people are thinking of you. Your past birthdays haven’t felt much like the birthdays you had when you were younger, when you were so excited to celebrate your day you couldn’t sleep. 

You pull on a sweatshirt over your thin pajamas and head downstairs to make yourself a bowl of cereal, and find Roman in the kitchen. “Morning, sunshine. Go sit down in the dining room.”

“Mm,” you grumble, voice gravelly from sleep. Your eyes are droopy and you still look tired, barely conscious. 

Roman eyes you as you sit down. You rest your head on the table, and you’re wearing his sweatshirt. He’s not entirely sure how you wound up with it. He doesn’t say anything, though, only smirks to himself. 

Roman goes back into the kitchen to plate some blueberry pancakes he made for you, just like he’s done since you were young. Roman’s not much of a cook, but this is one meal he can make and that he can make well. He wouldn’t do it for just anyone, but you asked him once when you were a kid and he didn’t have it in his heart to tell you no. Roman remembers how crappy that first batch came out, but how you didn’t complain. Honestly, you probably didn’t even notice with your pancakes covered in so much butter and syrup and whipped cream. You probably couldn’t even taste the blueberries. But thus, tradition stuck, and Roman’s blueberry pancake game vastly improved over the years. He liked making them for you as much as you liked eating them.

Roman returns to you with the plate of blueberry pancakes and sets it down in front of you. “Voilà.”

You lift your head up and grin when you see the pancakes Roman made for you. It’s straight out of a commercial, melted butter and syrup dripping down the edges with a dollop of whipped cream right on top. “Aww. You remembered,” you beam. You didn’t ask Roman for the pancakes this year. 

Roman blushes, and he feels his heart beat harder. It’s been so long since you’ve smiled at him like that, and it makes him nervous. “No. I made them for myself, actually, but I was feeling generous. This is my good deed for the week.”

“You still remembered.”

Roman ignores the accusation. “I gave you all the fucked up ones, just so you know. And I spit in the batter.”

“Mm. Tasty.”

Fuck. Your eyes are sparkling, your smile is so warm. Roman can’t stomach it, how you make him feel sometimes. “Oh, shut up and eat your fucking pancakes, birthday girl,” he snaps, contorting his face to fight his smile. “I hate you. You’re welcome.”

You roll your eyes and eat your pancakes, humming at the delicious flavor. Roman grabs your favorite mug and sets it down next to you, then fills it with the coffee he made. Before you can thank him, the clattering of high heels on the hardwood floor interrupts you. Your mom is on the phone and stops briefly in the dining room when she smells the pancakes Roman made for you. She leans over your shoulder and takes your fork from your hand and cuts off a bite for herself. “Mom,” you complain. 

“You can share,” she scolds, covering the mic on her phone.  

Roman speaks, “Wait, don’t. I made those special for -”

Your mom smiles and kisses Roman on the cheek before he can finish his sentence, and then she’s out the door while still talking with Erica. 

Roman looks to you for your reaction, and your face falls. That beautiful smile on your lips just moments ago, snuffed out like a candle. “I don’t think she remembered,” you tell Roman, defeated. 

“Oh no, I don’t think that’s true,” Roman lies. “I’m sure she just - I don’t know,” he sighs, resigning to the reality of the situation. You can expect some mushy and emotional text from her later, probably tomorrow. “No, you’re right - that was bullshit.” Roman squeezes your shoulder affectionately and tells you he’s sorry. 

Roman means it. He knows exactly how it feels to have a parent forget your birthday. His dad only remembered a handful of times, and every present always felt empty. It’s part of why Roman’s always put effort into making your day special each year. He never got the birthday he wanted or deserved, but he could give that to you.

“Listen,” Roman says, “I gotta run to work now. Don’t party too hard. Or do. I don’t care. It’s your day. Just don’t snort coke in my bathroom, okay? Anywhere else. And don’t do it before, like, four in the afternoon.” Roman pats your shoulder. “Just basic human decency.”

“I’m not gonna do coke in your bathroom, Roman.”

“I just feel the need to say it after the Uncle Ken incident, you know?” You laugh at that, though you shouldn’t. Roman continues, “Anyway, I want you to eat up all of your highly nutritious breakfast and when I come home tonight, you better be in your favorite dress.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m taking you out.”

“You are?” 

“Duh, genius. Like me and you always do on your birthday, remember? Or are you forgetting as you approach your crone years?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off. You’re closer to senile than I am. Pushing fifty there, aren’t you, Roman?”

“Maybe. I’ve got some years left, so watch it,” he warns, then kisses the top of your head. “I fuck like I’m thirty, anyway.”

-

The rest of the day drags on, truthfully. You finish your pancakes, then go upstairs and treat yourself to a bubble bath, your vibrator joining you. Afterwards, you dress yourself in comfortable clothes and drive yourself around the city, picking up birthday freebies from different stores and fast food restaurants. When you come home, you do your hair and makeup in the way that makes you feel prettiest, then look through your closet for your favorite dress, just like Roman said. 

Your favorite dress. It’s not an easy decision. You have a favorite dress that’s comfortable, a favorite dress on your body, a favorite patterned dress. You slide the hangers across the closet rod, contemplating, contemplating…until you come across that one purple dress. 

You remember Roman pulling the zipper of that dress up your spine, his warm hands on your waist. How he fucked you in that closet, bent you over the vanity and split you open. You watched him in the mirror as you gushed on his cock. You wear that dress tonight, then pick out some shoes to match. 

Roman presses his horn repeatedly to call you outside. He’s fucking obnoxious, but you laugh. You rush downstairs and out the door, and when Roman sees you he gets out of the driver’s seat and rounds the front of his car to open up the passenger side door for you. “Look at you, birthday girl,” he says, chewing minty gum. “You look so grown up.”

“Ew. Don’t, please.”

“So that’s your favorite dress, huh?”

Knowing Roman recognizes your dress makes your cheeks warm. “Yeah,” you mumble softly. 

“Mm. Mine too,” he whispers, then shuts the door. He gets back into the driver’s seat and presses buttons on the screen until his car’s Bluetooth connects to your phone. “I think your birthday earns you DJ rights, yeah?” Roman pulls the gear shifter into drive. 

“I’d say so,” you agree, picking out your favorite playlist on Spotify. Roman puts his hand on your thigh, inching it up and under your skirt. He doesn’t do more than an occasional squeeze, and tapping his fingertips on your skin. Still, it excites you. 

Once at the restaurant, Roman takes your hand and helps you out of the car. You read the sign of the restaurant, Adalina, and Roman leads you inside. You notice he’s holding a little gift bag. “Reservation for Roy,” he tells the host, who then ushers you both to a corner booth. The lights are dim, tables covered in floor-length white cloths. There’s people chatting at tables and at the bar, someone softly playing piano. Once seated, the host lights a candle at your table. 

“Your uh - your boy toy from a while ago. Is this where he took you? I thought you said something about not liking it,” Roman asks, unfolding his napkin and placing it on his thigh. 

You shake your head. “No,” you answer. “I’ve never been here.”

“Good, that’s good…you guys still talk?”

You shoot him a look at the same time your server comes by to place a plate of bread and oil at your table and to pour water in your glasses. “Can I start you off with some wine, something else to drink?”

You look at Roman, who shrugs. “All you,” he says. 

“I’m fine with water.” 

Roman says the same. He figured you’d forgo drinking tonight, even if it was just one little glass of wine. That’s why he had you make the decision - he doesn’t want you feeling pulled in either direction. You’re not much of a drinker, with your mom being the opposite. It makes sense. 

Your server leaves to give you a little while to browse the menu and pick out appetizers and dinner. Roman places that gift bag from earlier in front of you. 

“For me?” You reach for the bag. 

“For you,” Roman replies, mocking your tone. 

You pull the tissue paper out of the bag before pulling out the gift itself - it’s…you don’t know what you’re looking at. It’s some bizarre figure of a frog dressed as a cowboy, riding…a bearded dragon? Baffled and wearing a smile, you turn it over in your hand. You wonder where on god’s green earth Roman even found something like this. 

“I thought of you,” Roman says. “Has your name written all over it.”

“Oh Roman,” you sigh dramatically, “You shouldn’t have.”

“I know, I know.”

You examine the weird little toy some more, giggling at all of the details. Roman’s fucking with you, but you do love the figurine. He knew you would. 

Roman reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a fancy leather box, then slides it across the tablecloth quietly. “What..?”

“Shush. Just open it.”

You put down your figurine and open the box, gasping at the sight. A gorgeous, multi-stone sapphire pendant sparkles above black velvet. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, the design very intentional. Unique. “Roman…”

“Umm,” Roman hums nervously, hovering over you to point at the pendant, “They’re sapphires, so blue- they’re like blueberries,” he stutters, gesturing to the multiple round-cut stones. “‘Cause of the pancakes I make you…uh…sometimes.” Roman points to the little diamonds between the sapphires, “And the diamonds, I don’t know. I thought it was a nice accent sort of thing. And you’re a girl, you know. You like sparkles.”

You’re touched. Not only is the piece gorgeous, but the thought Roman put into it warms your heart and makes it all the more special. There’s no way he just walked into a jeweler’s and picked this out of the display case. He thought up the design and had it custom made, probably weeks or months ago. Had to have. Carefully, you remove the pendant and its box chain from the box. 

“If you don’t l-” You put the piece of jewelry in Roman’s hand and turn your back to him. Roman smiles to himself. He puts the necklace over your chest and brings the chain around your neck, his nervously shaking fingers tickling your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “God, fuck - sorry, hang on,” he whispers, losing and finding his grip on the small clasp before successfully securing it. “There.” Excitedly, you pull out your phone and turn on your front-facing camera to admire the pendant on your skin. 

You turn off your phone and put it in your purse, then fling yourself at Roman, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. Roman freezes at first, then hugs you back gingerly, before finally squeezing you just as tightly, chuckling quietly at your palpable excitement. You pull away from the hug just enough to kiss him quickly on his lips, startling both yourself and Roman. “Yeah, so…” He rubs the back of his neck and blushes wildly, his cock quickly hardening in his pants. Roman coughs and adjusts his napkin over his lap, still feeling the pressure of your lips on his despite their absence. “Happy birthday, kiddo,” he whispers. 

“I love it. Thank you.” You look at Roman with sparkling eyes, pupils blown wide as you beam at him. It makes him blush even harder, his ears and neck turning red too. 

“Stop it, don’t - quit looking at me like that,” Roman scolds, avoiding eye contact. “It - it’s nothing.”

“I don’t know,” you reply, “I think it’s something.”

“Yeah, of course you think that. Because that’s the problem with your generation. You put labels on everything and think you’re all so special. Snowflakes,” he rants. “God, I can’t stand you people. You especially. I’d get that necklace for anyone.”

Defensive. He’s so fucking comically defensive, and it tickles you. “Hey, Roman,” you purr, in the mood to tease. 

Roman looks at you wearing a seemingly permanent smile on your lips as you touch and toy with your pendant. “What? What now?” he asks, flustered and impatient. 

“You’re kinda pink.”

“I’m not…pink,” Roman mumbles.

“You are. You’re blushing.”

“Shut the fuck up. I am not blushing.”

“No, you’re totally blushing. Your cheeks are all rosy.”

Roman buries his face in his hands and groans, eliciting a sweet giggle from you. The way you look at him, how you’re acting and making him feel. Tripping over his words, his heart hasn’t stopped pounding, cock achingly hard since you pecked his lips. You make him feel weak, and you’re not supposed to. Not like this. 

Your server returns then. “Are we ready to order?”

“Yes,” Roman quickly answers. “I’ll have the…fuck. One - one sec.” Roman raises a finger as he browses the menu. Sorry, you mouth to the server. “Entrees, entrees…” he mumbles.

“It’s right here,” you whisper, pointing to the entree section of Roman’s menu. His large bulge catches your eye, and you smile mischievously. When did that happen?

“Okay. Yeah. I think I’ll have the charred fil- fuck.”

Your server’s eyes widen at Roman, who quickly apologizes. Your hand is on his bulge, squeezing him through the fabric of his pants. 

“He wants the charred filet,” you cut in, answering for Roman. “I’ll have the gnocchi. Thank you,” you smile sweetly at the waiter, stroking Roman’s bulge over his pants. Silently, Roman gives the man a thumbs up and waves him away. Roman bites his lip as he waits for him to go back to the kitchen. “Alright, fuck this,” Roman snaps, squeezing your wrist and forcibly removing your hand from his lap. “You’re out of line.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’re being weird. Are you feeling okay?” 

“We’ve had a nice night, you know. Do you really wanna do this?”

“Do what?”

“Cute.” Roman wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his side. “I give you an inch and you take a mile.” 

“You’re still so flushed,” you tease. This time, Roman doesn’t smile bashfully. Instead, he wears a frown and puts his hand on your knee, under the skirt of your dress. His palm slides up your thigh until his fingers meet your panties, and he teases you over the fabric. “Ooh. Look who’s wet,” he mocks, feeling your sticky dampness. Roman hooks his fingers under your panties and pulls them, sliding them down your thighs. “Lift up. They’re coming off.” 

“What are you doing?” you hiss. You hold his forearm in both of your hands, attempting to pry his hand away from your lap. His muscles flex beneath your palm as he fights against you. Roman’s taking this much farther than you did.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You have to stop. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Not like this, not here, not - Jesus Christ.” Roman tugs your panties down to your knees, then lifts your legs over his lap so he can remove them the rest of the way. It’s not long before you’ll be soaking through your dress.

“You’re not behind the wheel anymore.” Roman stuffs your soaked panties into his pocket and spreads your legs wide, one of your thighs still resting on his. “Shouldn’t have been in the first place.” You’re completely exposed right now, anyone could see what Roman’s doing to you. What you’re letting him do to you. He wriggles his fingers underneath the skirt of your dress and presses his thumb against your sensitive clit, causing you to gasp and jerk your body, hitting your free leg against the table. The utensils on your plate clatter loudly, and Roman’s glass of water spills over and onto the tablecloth. Another guest at the restaurant looks at you, and you force a smile at them. “Ooh, nice one,” Roman taunts.

Roman’s rubbing you in circles now, using his free hand to tug your dress up and look at your bare pussy under the warm light of the candles at your table. You look at him with pleading eyes, begging him, “We shouldn’t be doing this, Roman. Not here. Not like this.”

“Yes, here, and yes, like this. Don’t fucking argue with me.” Roman buries two fingers into your cunt, pushing them in and out of you slowly, collecting your arousal. “You didn’t think this one through, did you?” 

He drags his slick fingers up and down your folds, feeling you becoming wetter by the second. He circles your clit lazily, rubbing it gently, listening closely to the wet noises you make. Your waiter returns with your meals, and just like you did to Roman, Roman keeps his hands on you. “Better keep it together,” he murmurs in your ear, pulling your skirt back over the front of your thighs. 

Your server sets Roman’s filet in front of him, then your gnocchi down in front of you. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Roman answers. His demeanor has totally shifted. He’s cool, he’s back in control. “What are your desserts tonight? This one here has a pretty severe sweet tooth.”

“Dessert specials,” the server repeats. “I have to think. They change them up on us a lot.”

“Oh, take your time. We’ve got all night. Don’t we, kiddo?” 

“Mhm. Yep.” 

Roman takes a spoonful of his mashed potato side as your waiter thinks. “Tiramisu, of course,” he says. 

“Oh, well. Naturally.” Roman’s fingers slide down until he’s pressing them right against your slick little hole. 

“We have a cookie plate, too. A chocolate and hazelnut mousse cake. And a pineapple angel cake. And gelato.” 

Roman slides his fingers into your tight pussy, pressing them up to search for that spongy spot inside of you. “What flavors?”

“We have caramel butter cake, chocolate cashew raspberry…” 

The server’s voice becomes distant as he recites flavors. You squeak when Roman reaches your g-spot, swallowing your moans as he curls his fingers repeatedly against it. 

“We have sorbets, too.” 

“What sorbets?” Roman asks.

“Mango calamansi, cantaloupe, and lemongrass.” 

“Quite a dessert menu. Well, what do you think, birthday girl?”

“Tiramisu,” you mumble. 

“I didn’t catch that,” the server replies. “What was that?”

Roman answers for you, “She says she wants tiramisu. She’s just shy sometimes. Aren’t you?”

You glare at Roman, who smiles at you, flashing those perfect little teeth of his. His fingers stop suddenly - he has an idea. He cocks an eyebrow when your hips follow his hand, bucking into his palm, “Interesting,” he says, smiling fondly at your desperation. Your face feels hot and you feel out of your depth here. Roman was right to warn you about getting into this, about it being a nice night.

It worries you to see Roman scanning the room and biting his lip. He’s thinking, which is never good. “Roman. Whatever you’re thinking of doing - don’t.” 

Roman ignores your warning. “Keep telling me no and watch what happens,” he warns, then slides under the table with seamless ease. Once under the table, he pushes your thighs apart and pulls you close to the edge of your seat, putting one of your legs over his shoulder. 

He licks your inner thighs, his scruff abrasive against your damp skin. Roman licks you higher and higher, pulling you closer to his waiting mouth where you can feel his hot breath against your core. His head bulges a bit under the white tablecloth, and then you feel it - one long, fat lick of his tongue up your seam. “Ohhh my god,” you moan, garnering a look from someone at a nearby table. You smile and take a sip of your water with shaky hands. 

Roman starts small with little licks, sucking your labia into his mouth. First one side, then the other. His hands rest on your thighs, hot against your skin and squeezing your flesh. He licks over your clit next, then sucks it between his lips. He alternates between those two actions, stopping and starting all over again and again. You want more and less of it, of Roman, all at once.

Roman gently tugs the hood of your clit up, exposing your most sensitive part of yourself to his lips and tongue. He slides his two fingers inside you once more, fucking you on those digits as he sloppily licks your clit. You arch into his touch and reach under the table to hold his head and tug on his hair. “Roman,” you whimper. 

He coaxes release from you effortlessly, patiently using his tongue to draw steady circles on your clit as he curls those long, bony fingers inside you. You bite your lip so hard it breaks skin, squeezing Roman’s head with your thighs and whimpering softly as you feel the beginning of your climax begin to take over. 

Fuck. Your server is back with the tiramisu Roman had ordered for you. “The tiramisu,” he says, placing it on the table. “I apologize, I forgot to ask - do you and your date want coffee to go with dessert?”

“N- nah- no-” you stutter, though it comes out more as a moan as Roman fucks you with his tongue through your orgasm. Roman slaps your thigh and you jump in your seat, earning yourself a strange look from your server. Wrong answer. “Sor - yeah - yes. Yes.” Roman kisses your inner thigh in approval. 

Your poor fucking waiter. He nods wordlessly to go back into the kitchen and retrieve coffee for you and Roman. At the same time, Roman emerges from under the table with his cheeks flushed and his hair mussed and out of place, which is entirely your fault. “Fuck,” you whisper. Hastily, you finger-comb his hair into place. 

Roman grabs a spoon and takes the first bite of the tiramisu. “Mm,” he hums. “Sorry, birthday girl. Dad tax.”

Roman scoops up another bite of tiramisu, then brings the spoon to your lips. You take the bite, your cheeks warming when you taste your arousal on the metal. 

-

It’s quiet in the house when you and Roman come home. He stops briefly in the kitchen to put your leftovers away, then follows you up the steps and into your bedroom. “Need help with your zipper?” 

“Mhm. Please” 

Roman pulls your zipper down your back, then turns you around. Before you can think, he cups your face with both hands and kisses you, really kisses you. It’s no accidental peck on the lips, no. It’s intentional, deep and deliberate. His lips are soft, his tongue melding perfectly together with yours. When he pulls away, you look at him with knitted brows.

“You kissed me first, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Then it’s on the table.” 

Roman kisses you once more, then pulls away again. His eyes are dark and sparkling, and warm, too. He touches the pendant on your chest, holding it between his fingers before rubbing his thumb across the stones. It’s so intimate, and it leaves you breathless and confused. “Good birthday?” 

You nod. Roman smiles at you. 

“I’m glad. Goodnight, kiddo.” 

tysm for reading!! please scream nice and horny things at me if you enjoyed ♡ reblogs, comments, and asks are so appreciated and keep me motivated to write for you guys

tags (lmk if you wanna be added or removed)

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson

@moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@romanarose @kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamili @verstappensrealwife

@thesummerpetrichor @lilipads @luiscarrutherss @pastelpinkflowerlife @baronessvonglitter

@myromeow @ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He���s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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[moon-lit-petal]

From Chaos to Comfort Pt3

George Weasley x Fem!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summery: George becomes acutely awear that sometimes, people aren't the biggest fans of his and Freds pranks.

Warning: enemies to lovers(?) Angst, George fell hard and fast. I tried to do a slow burn but you can tell I gave up lol. Also, Y/N is a little mean to George Ngl

Word count: 2.7k

Notes: this is a bit of a rougher chapter, I'm aware, this was so hard to write for some reason

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

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The Gryffindor common room buzzed with laughter, loud conversations, and the aftermath of another successful Quidditch match. At the center of it all was Fred, standing on a chair, reliving the moment of Y/N's humiliation as if it were the highlight of the day. His boisterous voice echoed, the exaggerated retelling drawing cheers and more laughter from their friends.

But George sat in the corner, every word hitting him like a punch. His jaw clenched, muscles tense, his eyes fixed on his twin brother. The laughter that usually felt like home now grated on his nerves, an ugly reminder of what Fred had done. George couldn’t take it anymore.

Slamming his hands on the arms of the chair, George shot up, his heart pounding in his chest. Without thinking, he stormed across the room, each step fueled by his growing anger.

“Fred!” George barked, cutting through the noise. The common room fell into a sudden, uncomfortable silence.

Fred, still standing on the chair, looked down at George, eyebrows raised. “What? You finally wanna join in? It was legendary, wasn’t it? Y/N’s face was—"

“Legendary?” George cut him off, his voice sharp, full of venom. “You think that was legendary? Humiliating her in front of the whole school?” His fists balled at his sides, the anger spilling out before he could stop himself.

Fred’s grin faltered, confusion spreading across his face. “Come on, George. It was just a prank—what’s gotten into you?”

George let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “What’s gotten into me? Fred, you’ve gone too far this time! Y/N’s not just some target for your stupid pranks!” His voice rose, filling the room. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Fred hopped off the chair, his own frustration bubbling up. “George, it’s just for a laugh! Everyone here thinks it’s funny—why are you so bent out of shape over this?”

“Because it’s not funny to humiliate someone, Fred!” George snapped, stepping closer, his voice shaking with intensity. “It’s cruel! And you don’t even see it! You keep going on like everything’s a joke, but it’s not! Not to me, and definitely not to her.”

Fred’s eyes narrowed, defensive now. “Mate, we’ve always done this! You’re acting like I committed some crime! Y/N can handle it, she’s tough.”

“She shouldn’t have to handle it!” George nearly shouted, his patience fraying. “Do you know how much she hates us now? How much she hates me because she thinks I’m just like you?”

Fred blinked, thrown by the sudden intensity. “Wait, hates you? I don’t understand—why are you so worked up over this?”

George exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to keep himself from exploding. His next words were thick with emotion. “Because, Fred… I care about her. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And you… you’re ruining everything.”

For a moment, Fred stood frozen, the weight of George’s confession hitting him like a hex. “You care about her?” he repeated, slowly, like the words didn’t make sense.

George took a step back, hands trembling with the force of what he’d just admitted. “Yeah. I do. And every time you pull these pranks, you push her further away. She thinks I’m just another part of your game.”

Fred shook his head, still not fully grasping the situation. “But… it’s just us having a laugh. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“A big deal?” George’s voice cracked. “Fred, I’m not you. I don’t want to spend my life making jokes at other people’s expense. I want her to see me for who I am, not who she thinks I am because of you.”

Fred stared at George, his smile long gone, replaced with something closer to guilt. “I didn’t know…” he muttered, finally starting to understand. “I didn’t mean to mess things up for you, George. I thought she… well, you know, I thought she could take it.”

“Well, she can’t!” George snapped. “And even if she could, it doesn’t make it right.”

Fred stood there, his shoulders slumping slightly, the reality of what George was saying settling in. “I didn’t realize you felt that way,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, or you.”

George shook his head, the anger simmering down but not fully gone. “Just… stop, Fred. Stop with the pranks. Give her some space. I need to figure out how to fix this, and I can’t do that if you keep pulling this crap.”

Fred nodded, finally backing down, his usual humor replaced by a rare moment of sincerity. “Alright. I’ll back off. I didn’t mean to make things worse for you, George. I swear.”

George took a deep breath, the tension slowly easing from his shoulders. “I know,” he muttered, his voice softer now. “But this isn’t just about me. It’s about her. And I’m not going to stand by and watch you hurt her anymore.”

As Fred nodded again, George turned away, the weight of their conversation pressing down on him. He knew this was only the beginning—now came the harder part. Finding a way to show Y/N that he was different.

But for the first time in days, George felt like he could finally breathe.

----------

The Black Lake shimmered in the moonlight, its surface calm and quiet, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that had been swirling inside Y/N for hours. She sat on the edge of the dock, her arms wrapped around her knees as she stared out at the water, hoping for a moment of peace.

But peace had been elusive. The whispers and stares that followed her around the castle since the Quidditch match had made sure of that. Everywhere she went, people were talking about Fred’s prank, about her humiliation, and the confrontation between the twins that had somehow made things even worse. No matter where she turned, she couldn’t escape the gossip.

And then there was George.

The entire rest of the day, he had tried to approach her, to explain himself, but each time, she’d walked away. She didn’t want to hear any more excuses. The anger, the embarrassment, and the sting of betrayal still burned too deeply. She had avoided him at every opportunity, until now.

Footsteps crunched on the grass behind her, and she didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Her heart quickened, and she immediately moved to stand, ready to walk away like she had every other time.

“Y/N, wait,” George’s voice called out, firm but pleading.

“I don’t want to hear it, George,” she snapped, not turning around. She stood up, preparing to leave, but then she realized the dock led to nowhere. Her escape route was cut off by the lake, and the only way back was through him.

She hesitated, torn between the urge to flee and the exhaustion of avoiding him for days. She took a step forward, determined to leave, but George reached out, his hand gently grasping her arm.

“Please,” he said softly, his grip firm but not forceful, just enough to stop her in her tracks. “Just hear me out.”

Y/N tensed, her body rigid as she kept her back to him. “Why should I? I’ve heard enough from everyone else. You, Fred—this whole school can’t stop talking about it. I don’t need to hear anything more.”

“Y/N…” George’s voice was low, pained, and for the first time, she heard something in it that made her pause—something raw, something that didn’t sound like the George she thought she knew. “This isn’t about what everyone else is saying. It’s about you and me.”

She clenched her jaw, trying to keep her walls up, but the gentle touch of his hand on her arm grounded her. Reluctantly, she turned to face him, though she kept her distance. His face was cast in the soft glow of the moon, and there was none of the usual mischief in his eyes. They were serious, filled with a vulnerability that caught her off guard.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all day,” George began, his voice steady but laced with regret. “I know what Fred did was awful. I know you hate us both for it. But I need you to understand that I didn’t want this to happen. I never wanted to see you hurt like that.”

Y/N folded her arms over her chest, her expression guarded. “Then why didn’t you stop him? You’re his brother. You knew what he was planning, didn’t you?”

George shook his head, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “I didn’t know it would be that bad. Fred… he doesn’t always think about the consequences. And I should have stopped him. I should’ve done something sooner. But by the time I realized how much it was hurting you, it was too late.”

She looked away, her throat tightening with the memory of the laughter, the banner, the humiliation that had swallowed her whole. “Everyone’s talking about your little confrontation,” she muttered bitterly. “Like it’s some big story, as if it makes a difference.”

“It wasn’t about making a scene,” George said quietly, taking a cautious step closer. “I told Fred off because I couldn’t stand what he did to you. I care about you, Y/N. I’ve been a fool for letting things get this far. But I’m not him. I’m not part of those pranks anymore.”

Y/N’s heart raced, torn between the lingering hurt and the sincerity she saw in his eyes. She hated that she wanted to believe him, hated the way his words tugged at something deep inside her. “Why should I trust you now?” she asked, her voice shaking with the effort of holding back her emotions.

“Because I’m here,” George replied softly, his gaze unwavering. “I’m not running away or hiding behind jokes. I’m here, asking you to give me a chance to make things right. No more pranks, no more tricks—just me. The real me.”

Y/N stared at him, her defenses crumbling, but fear still clung to her. She didn’t know if she could let herself trust him, not after everything. But there was something in his eyes, something honest and vulnerable, that made her want to believe him.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the water.

George’s hand slid from her arm, and he took a step back, giving her space. “I understand,” he said softly. “But I’ll wait. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

With that, he turned and began to walk away, leaving Y/N standing by the lake, her heart a tangled mess of emotions. As he disappeared into the night, she realized that for the first time in days, she didn’t feel the urge to run. Instead, she stood there, watching him go, her heart caught between the lingering pain and the faint flicker of hope.

---------

Y/N lay awake in her Hufflepuff dormitory, staring up at the ceiling as thoughts swirled around her like leaves caught in a gust of wind. The warmth and coziness of the room, usually a comfort, felt stifling tonight. Her roommates were asleep, but even surrounded by peers, she felt isolated, trapped in her own thoughts.

Her mind kept drifting back to the conversation by the Black Lake. George’s face, the raw sincerity in his eyes, and his words replayed on a loop, tangled with feelings she’d been trying to bury. she had been avoiding him, letting her anger and hurt take charge, and it had been exhausting. She was tired of running, but more than that, she was tired of feeling betrayed.

The prank had shattered her trust, and the embarrassment had made her want to hide. It wasn’t just the laughter that echoed in her mind; it was the betrayal, the way she had thought they were ‘kinda friends’ who would never cross that line. The realization that Fred had humiliated her while George had stood by made her question everything.

Y/N turned over in bed, clutching her pillow to her chest, her thoughts spiraling. Could she really trust George again?

He had seemed so sincere by the lake, different from the prankster she’d always known. The way he had looked at her—like she mattered, like he truly regretted what had happened—had stirred something in her, but the hurt still lingered. She hated that she wanted to believe him, but fear kept her from letting go of the past.

George had said he wasn’t part of the pranks anymore, that he was done with tricks, but how could she be sure? How could she let herself trust someone who had watched her hurt without stepping in?

“I care about you, Y/N.”

His words echoed in her mind, tugging at her heart. He had said he would wait, and that felt like a small comfort. But how long would she keep him waiting? She needed time to figure out if she could let go of the hurt, if she could open her heart again and let him prove he wasn’t just another prankster looking for laughs.

Deep down, she wanted to believe in second chances. But trust, once broken, wasn’t easy to rebuild. As she finally closed her eyes, the soft light from the enchanted lamps flickering like her uncertain thoughts, Y/N knew that this decision wouldn’t come easily. She would see where her heart led her, and tomorrow, she would take the first step toward deciding whether to confront George again or keep her distance. For now, she would let herself rest, knowing that the path forward was still unclear.

----------

Days have passed since the Quidditch match, and the atmosphere in the library is thick with unspoken words. Y/N sits at a table near the window, surrounded by stacks of books, but her focus drifts as sunlight dances across the pages. She tries to lose herself in her studies, but her mind is a tangled web of confusion and hurt.

George walks in, his usual confidence tempered by uncertainty. He scans the room until his eyes land on Y/N. Taking a deep breath, he approaches her table.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

Y/N glances up, surprised to see him so close. She hesitates, her heart pounding. Instead of speaking, she quietly nods, her throat too tight to form words.

George takes the seat beside her instead of across from her like usual, and Y/N feels a flutter of nerves at the sudden closeness. He’s never been this near before, and it throws her off balance. The space between them feels charged, filled with the weight of their unspoken feelings.

The silence stretches on, heavy and thick. George tries to look at the book in front of him, but his attention keeps drifting to Y/N. She avoids eye contact, staring intently at the pages, a flush creeping up her cheeks.

Suddenly, the calm is shattered when a group of first-years nearby accidentally knocks over a stack of books. The loud clatter echoes through the library, causing both George and Y/N to jump in surprise.

“Sorry!” one of the first-years squeaks, scrambling to pick up the fallen books.

Y/N steals a glance at George, and for a brief moment, their eyes connect, holding each other’s gaze longer than either of them intended. The world around them fades, the chaos of the library becoming a distant hum. It’s as if they are the only two people left, suspended in a trance that begs for connection.

George’s heart races as he sees something shift in her expression, a flicker of vulnerability. In that moment of connection, he leans in slightly, and Y/N mirrors his movement, as if pulled by an invisible force.

Before they know it, they share a soft kiss, tentative and filled with unspoken emotions, a culmination of all the tension between them.

When they pull apart, Y/N’s cheeks flush crimson, and she hastily lifts the book in front of her, hiding her face behind it like a shield. “I—I’m sorry,” she stammers, ”Icant-” the words barely escaping her lips before she bolts from the table, her heart racing in a mix of exhilaration and panic.

George watches her go, bewildered and exhilarated, the kiss lingering on his lips. The rush of emotions fills him with hope, but as she disappears down the corridor, he feels a surge of worry.

As Y/N rushes away, clutching the book to her chest, her mind spins. She realizes how much she truly felt for George in that brief moment, and she knows she must confront her feelings. The questions swirl around her like leaves in the wind: How much does she care for him? And is she ready to take the leap of faith that love requires?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

[fr33time]

hello! welcome to the fandom !

can i have bf headcanons for subaru please ?

thank you for taking my request!

have a great day <3

A/N: I would love to do bf headcanons for subaru, he is actually so sweet. Also thank you! I love the game so far, I can’t wait till episode 9 releases. I’m hoping it’ll be longer but a person can only hope… I hope you enjoy these! Honestly I have so many headcanons for him, I think he would be a lovely boyfriend. These were fun to do, I love relationship headcanons so bad!

BF headcanons with Subaru Kagami ♥︎

Credits for divider!: @thecutestgrotto

Genre: Headcanons, Fluff

Find my requesting rules here!

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

♥︎ Even as your boyfriend, Subaru still gets nervous around you, especially in the early phases of the relationship. He apologizes whenever he touches you by accident, and you have to remind him that you don’t mind the physical affection.

♥︎ Doesn’t have experience with relationships. He grew up as an actor at a young age and didn’t have the mind to focus on romantic relationships. Still learning how to be with another person, but he tries his best and makes sure to mentally note what you like. He has a habit of only serving you, and not paying attention to what he wants. Gets a little flustered when you give him gifts, but he cherishes it with all of his heart.

♥︎ He’s a great listener, he listens with an open heart and remains empathetic towards you. He doesn’t mind sitting down for a while and hearing your troubles. Usually likes to hold your hand to make sure that you know he’s there for you. Afterwards he’ll offer tea in order to calm you down, something with lavender since it’s known to be an anxiety reliever. If you don’t want to talk about it though, that’s fine too, he can wait. He always has patience for you.

♥︎ When relaxing together, he pulls out a blanket so both of you are comfortable. If you prefer it, he can put on tv, listen to music, or just sit in silence and enjoy the other’s presence. He enjoys being close to you, he’ll grab both of your hands and lean into your shoulder.

♥︎ When you two go out to eat, or try to find an activity to do, he won’t tell you what he wants in fear that you won’t have fun if he suggests something. You try to reassure him that it’s a relationship and that you want to experience something he enjoys as well.

“I’m a bit hungry, you should choose where we eat today!”

“Oh ummm… I’m fine with anything you want, I’m not particularly craving something.”

“…Subaru I’ve chosen where we eat the past week, I promise you that I don’t mind.”

He can take a while on deciding, at some point you just start learning where he likes to go and occasionally bring him there. He appreciates that you mix up things for him, sometimes he mentions that there’s a new shop opening somewhere, hinting that he wants to check it out.

♥︎ Takes you on walks around the Hotarubi grounds. The flowers are always blooming, and it’s constantly raining so it smells beautiful all the time. He grabs an umbrella and keeps you close when you walk together, he’ll slink an arm around you and pull you in to make sure you don’t get wet in the rain. In reality he just likes the physical contact. The grounds are big so you take your time wandering around and talking.

♥︎ He finds it a bit silly, but both of you enjoy doing impressions of other people. It’s something fun to do when you’re sitting around. Especially when you’re bored of studying, you have studying sessions together and when you need a break, you’ll pull out the awful impressions of people to make him smile. He eventually joins along, his impressions are much better though since he’s been doing it for his entire life.

♥︎ Loves buying food from Sho’s truck and sharing it together. When you open up the food, sometimes you’ll find little hearts made out of sauce on top of the rice. Thanks Sho!

♥︎ Occasionally when he talks, he can ramble on a bit. It surprises him a bit since he doesn’t talk too much around others cause he doesn’t want to bother people. But he gets comfortable around you and starts to go on, saying sorry after the fact and that he didn’t mean to talk for so long.

♥︎ He can get really somber, when he doesn’t smile he has a sad look on his face. You can tell he’s thinking about something, but you don’t pry because he’s one to keep his feelings to himself. You softly encourage him to tell you about what he’s currently thinking but he brushes it off and tells you that he’s fine, chalking it up to losing track of time. In these moments, you silently lean on him and watch the flowers, someday he’ll tell you but you understand that it’s difficult for him at the moment.

♥︎ Doesn’t really participate in PDA, when he’s brave enough he’ll hold your hand in public. Besides that, people can mainly tell you two are together through rumours, and the fact that you are around each other all the time outside of classes. His hand is always warm and inviting to you, when it’s cold, he’ll lace your hand with his and it feels wonderful each time.

♥︎ Whenever you have to leave and run an errand, or you need to go back to your dorm, he’ll give you kisses before you leave. He hates when you have to leave, but understands that you have places to go, he supposes that he should catch up on his own things as well. He softly grabs your cheek before kissing you, he makes a sad face and at that point you have to promise that you’ll be back soon to ease his mind.

♥︎ When you’re sick, he gives you the royalty treatment. If you need something from the store, he’ll get you whatever you want. He forces you to get plenty of rest and to not think about any stresses. He feels incredibly sorry for you and sticks by you if you wish. He’ll softly sing you a lullaby to help you fall asleep, and gives you herbs that help with sleep. When you’re finally resting, he stares at your face and plays with your hair a bit before leaving to let you be at peace.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

[staylovesmiley]

Collision— Chapter 5

ᯓᡣ𐭩Pairing; Stray Kids x afab!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩Summary; You’ve known him for years but you never would have guessed the charming guy you’ve been online gaming with has been an idol this whole time. (masterlist here)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩Warnings; implied afab reader (only they/them pronouns used for reader), mild angst?, pls I haven’t written fanfics since 2018 patience and kindness is appreciated

You weren’t sure how long it had been since you made your way down the corridor of the JYPE building after leaving the practice room. After retrieving your drink from the vending machine you sunk down to sit beside it on the floor, taking small sips as you got lost deep in thought. It must have been long enough for the boys to start to worry since you saw Han coming into view as he bent down to meet your eye level where you sat criss cross against the wall. “There you are! You okay? We were starting to think you got lost.” He said with a soft smile before noticing an off look on your face, his smile falling. “What’s wrong?” You shrugged, fiddling with the hem of your baggy tshirt and making a conscious effort not to meet his eyes again. “The lights in there were starting to make my head hurt and there were so many sounds-“ you spoke only telling half of a lie. Yes, you were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed in there but it wasn’t from the lights and sounds alone but from all the thoughts racing in your mind. “Oh! You should have told me….it’s kinda bright out here too here follow me.” Without waiting for your response the rapper took your hand and pulled you down another hall and into a room. He flicked one of the lights and only the light inside the recording booth turned on to provide a dim light in the studio. “You can stay here until you start to feel a bit better, okay? I sit in here some times too when I get overwhelmed.” You couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “Thanks Ji- gosh you’re so sweet.” He blushed, hugging you back before giving you some space. He gave a soft nod before heading for the door. “Wait- could um…can you sit with me for a bit? I’ll be okay in just a second but I’m afraid I’ll get lost trying to go back on my own.” His eyes widened like he hadn’t thought of that before he nodded and sat with you on the black sofa against the wall.

You both shared off into the distance, sitting in silence for a while before he spoke up. “You figured it out….didn’t you.” You sighed softly, for a member of paboracha he really was too clever for his own good sometimes. “Yeah-“

Jisung took a deep breathe before playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. “And?”

You furrowed your brows, staring down at your feet. “Why did none of you tell me? Not even Felix….I just- if you guys trust me enough to allow me to stay with you and had me over almost all the time before that, why couldn’t you trust me with this?” You were hurt, upset and afraid you did or said something that gave off the impression that this was something they had to hide from you. Han’s head raised as he looked at you, placing a hand on your knee to get you to meet his gaze. “Hey, it’s not what you’re thinking. Get out of that head of yours for a second, Star.” He chuckled airily, trying to lighten the mood as you looked into his soft brown eyes. “Then what is it?” You poured at him, making sure to hold eye contact. “Ah don’t none of that- don’t give me that look.” He whined, your cute pout too much for him as he started to fluster. “We wanted to tell you but- I know you’re from America and everything is different there but here people are less than not understanding about this sort of thing….” “And what exactly is this thing?” You questioned, wanting him to admit it now they you knew and he knew you knew, for the most part. “We are together, all of us. Since- well since our second anniversary as a group. Some of us longer than that but that was when we all were officially with each other.” He cringed slightly, like he was waiting for you to scold him or be disgusted. Instead you wrapped your arms tightly around his middle with a soft smile on your face. “I’m sorry you guys have to hide it, but I’m happy for you all. If you’re comfortable, now that I already know, you don’t have to hide around me anymore.” You assured him, your eyes meeting as you pulled back from the embrace. “Especially with me staying with you all while my apartment is being fixed….it could become suffocating to hide especially if it’s for my sake or the fear of me not understanding.” Han just blinked at you for a bit before hugging you again, fighting the urge to cry at hearing your support. “I told them you’d be chill about it- Lix too, so you know….he really wanted to be honest with you since the beginning but some of us were hesitant.” You sighed a bit in relief at this, giving the man a squeeze with reassurance. “Thank you for letting me know. Are you ready to head back?” He pulled back with a nod, standing and taking your hand. “Let’s go.”

Once you arrived back inside the practice room Han gave your hand a slight squeeze before raising it up above your heads. “Cats out of the bag, guys. Sorry-“ they all stared at him in disbelief, about to argue over how he shouldn’t have told you before you put your hands out in front of you in defense. “Don’t be mad at Han okay? I figured it out. You know, you aren’t as subtle as you think you all are.” You said with a slight smirk, taking in their shocked expressions before Seungmin spoke up with a dry tone. “Well? You know now….what does that mean?” You raised an eyebrow at him, trying not to be offended at the lack of trust they seemed to have for you in this moment. “You could have told me sooner and saved yourselves a lot of headaches.” There was an audible sigh of relief from the entire room and you walked up to your close friend and smacked him lightly on the chest. “Especially you. I can’t believe you thought so little of me.” You gave him a pout, Felix going from looking like he saw a ghost to looking like he was a child being scolded by a parent. He returned your pout and looked down at his feet with shame. “I’m sorry, Star….I wanted to- but we couldn’t be sure.” You rolled your eyes playfully before hugging him tightly. He recovered from his sulking quickly and hugged back with a squeeze, Hyunjin soon joined to hug you from behind as well and then the rest of the group followed until you began to shout about being claustrophobic and shimmied out of their hold and to the ground where you then crawled out from what felt like a forest of their collective pairs of legs. They all laughed at the display, you included as they all settled down comfortably. “For all of your information, by the way, I myself was in a poly relationship in highschool. Not like this- we didn’t all date each other but it was an open relationship situation.” Now they all stared at you in shock for completely other reasons. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Felix gasped, looking at you with mock offense. “You never asked?” You shrugged, laughing at their expressions. “Anything else we should know?” Minho questioned now, ever the curious cat. “Yeah” you started, the sound of your stomach growling echoing in the practice room. “We should probably get something to eat soon.” Everyone laughed and Jeongin pulled out some take out menus from somewhere in the room. The air felt lighter and they seemed even more relaxed than you had realized before that something was causing a tension, that something being them trying to hide their affection for each other.

It was a month and a half later and things were becoming blissfully domestic with living at the dorms. You had never gone to college, choosing to start working straight out of highschool instead for a family friend, but you assumed this is what it would have been like if you ever got to live with roommates on a campus somewhere. Your free time was spent buying groceries with Seungmin and Jeongin, watching dramas with Hyunjin, being a taste tester for whatever recipe Minho decided he wanted to try or for Felix baking endeavors, or sitting in the studio curled up on the couch while 3racha worked on new projects like you were now.

It was pretty late in the evening and you felt yourself dozing as you leaned against an already sleeping Han, whose body was twisted in a way you thought had to be uncomfortable as he snores lightly into your shoulder. You never paid much attention to what they were working on unless they asked for your opinion on something, usually keeping your headphones in while gaming or scrolling through various different social media platforms. You were enjoying your time living with them so much you felt a small pit in your stomach fill with dread every time you remembered it wouldn’t be forever. They had been more openly affectionate with one another ever since you finding out about their relationship, kissing and cuddling in front of you like it was nothing because well- it wasn’t.

You began to open up to them as well, your introverted walls crumbling as you got closer with the group to where you began to be more affectionate with them also. It was healing a part buried deep inside you being able to express yourself how you wanted, your family and others always shunning you for being too emotional. When you would give one of the boys a hug as greeting, or cuddle up during a movie night it was immediately reciprocated and it caused your chest and face to warm instantly at the acceptance of your touch and presence. As you scrolled, trying to stay awake as long as you could, you heard Changbin push his chair back and stand abruptly. “Ya- we’ve been working at this for too long, Hyung. I feel like my eyes are gonna fall out of my head.” He whined, nudging the older with a pout. “Why don’t you take Han and Star home, then? I’m good to keep working for a bit longer…I wanna finish this up before I can stop.” The muscular rapper sighed and shook his head, knowing Chan would likely be there till well into the early morning hours. “Come on, Hannie time to go home.” He said softly, poking the younger’s cheek causing him to whimper slightly in his sleep and reach up to bat his hand away. He chuckled, leaning down to kiss his forehead while looking to you for help. You giggled a bit and reached over to tickle at the young rapper’s side causing him to jolt awake. “Ya! Star how could you- that’s such betrayal!” He whined, pointing a finger at you accusingly. You just laughed and shrugged your shoulders. “You guys go on without me, I’ll stay and keep the old man company.” You teased, standing up and stretching before stealing the spot in Changbin’s rolling chair beside Chan. “Oh woah that was so uncalled for- you’ve been spending too much time with Seungmin.” He laughed, shaking his head at you while you smiled at him sweetly.

“As long as you’re sure….don’t let him stay here all night, yeah?” Changbin begged you, patting the top of your head. You nodded towards him in a silent promise, wishing them a good night and a safe drive home as the door closed behind them.

You started to doze off again soon, almost falling out of the chair causing Chan to chuckle at you. “You sure you wanna wait up on me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You nodded, covering your mouth as you yawned. “Mhm I gotta make sure you leave before dawn.” You teased, stretching your arms up causing your crop top to raise slightly and show the bottom of your bra which caught his eye and caused him to bit his lip and force himself to look away. “Why don’t you take a nap on the couch and I’ll wake you in an hour and we can go home, yeah?” You felt a slight blush creep up your neck and face at his words. Home, that’s definitely what it was starting to feel like staying with them. Though you mainly stayed in Felix room with him, you had slept over with the other plenty of times while having been staying there for various reasons. Tonight you had texted the younger Aussie that you’d be crashing in the 3racha dorm since you’d been with them so late and didn’t want to wake him up by coming in. He had sent a round of pouting emojis and a message about his bed being too cold without you but that he would manage.

You had blushed like crazy at that, your mind reeling any time he said something of the sort making things feel all that more intimate between the two of you. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you had realized you had feelings for the other gamer after about two weeks of staying at the dorms when you caught him slow dancing in the kitchen with Leeknow and felt yourself longing to be the one with your hands on his waist while you spun around with him looking into your eyes longingly. It wasn’t so much that you were jealous and didn’t want him to be doing that with one of his partners, but that you wished that title included you and that night you couldn’t help but cling a little tighter to him as you cuddled in your sleep and dreamt of him calling you as such.

Doing as Chan had suggested, you curled up on the sofa and hugged one of the pillows to your chest as you allowed yourself to finally drift off to sleep. It wasn’t for long, it felt as you were being lightly shaken awake by a lightly amused Bangchan. “Ya, Star- it’s been a little longer than an hour but I’m ready to go now.” You grumbled and shook your head, refusing to get up. “M’no way it’s been longer-“ you groaned, causing the older to laugh. “Do I have to carry you to the car? I can if you make me but I’m giving you the choice now cause it’s late and if the others found out I kept you here this long they’ll kill me.” You huffed, only holding turning over as a response. “Alright then, here we go.” He chuckled before lifting you up into his arms bridal style. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around him to hold on as he carried you down the hall and out of the building towards his car.

After arriving back at the dorm you fully woke up and rubbed at your eyes sleepily. “Are we home yet?” Chan smiled warmly and nodded. “Yeah, just pulled up. Think you can walk in or do I need to carry you again?” Embarrassed slightly, you chuckled and got out of the car. “I’ll walk this time, thanks for earlier though.” The two of you made it in and you cursed slightly when you made it to his room. “I forgot to ask Lix to drop off some pajama’s for me tonight-“ you cursed yourself mentally and cringed at the thought of sleeping in your jeans. “You can just borrow something of mine, it’s fine.” The Aussie reassured you, going over to his drawers. “Do want sweat pants or shorts?” He asked, rummaging around as he pulled out a pair of sweats for himself. “Um- shorts please?” You asked, remembering from previous sleep overs with the oldest member how much of a human furnace he tended to be. Tossing over a baggy black tee and a matching pair of shorts he turned around to give you some privacy and you did the same as you changed. You had done this a few times, not caring to make the walk down the hall to the bathroom to change and just turning to give each other privacy. You both settled under the covers and you could feel him stare at you for a while before you poking him in the chest. “At least try and get some sleep, yeah?” He smiled, chuckling lightly as he shook his hard. “I’m trying but it’s so hard when I have someone so cute in my bed, wearing my clothes.” He teased making you blush and hit him lightly on his bare chest. “Not funny, Chris. Sleep, now.” You turned around so your back was facing him and felt him drape an arm over your side and pull you flush against his back. “Wasn’t a joke, but good night Star.” He said before you soon felt the deep rise and fall of his chest against you signaling that he was drifting off to sleep. His words flustered you more than usual, being so close and in such an intimate setting with him. That was another thing you had come to realize over your time being here with them was how you seemed to have blossoming feelings for each of them, their charms and humor brightened your days beyond imagine and you felt completely blissful in their presence. Still, you held back those feelings to yourself for fear of interpreting their teasing for something more than it could be and ruining what you had going on as it was, even if you felt they were being obvious about the possibility of them feeling the same way. That little voice in your head told you not to be stupid, that they wouldn’t like you back and that it was all in your imagination and they were just being friendly.

Soon, you too fell asleep feeling the rise and fall of Bangchan’s chest behind you and hearing his snores.

In the morning you woke before Chan, smiling at his sleeping face before slipping out of bed and going next door to shower and get ready for the day. You were met with your four temporary roommates sitting and eating breakfast. “Morning, Star!” Jeongin said with a smile that you returned as you slipped your shoes off at the door and made your way over. “Morning! Sleep well?” The all nodded, all except for Felix who looked at your appearance and huffed. “Lix?” You tilted your head in confusion and made your way over to him. “Missed you.” He said with a pout before reaching for you and pulling you down into his lap to nuzzle his face into your neck. “Hey- I missed you too but i really need to go wash up, yeah?” He whined, but let go nonetheless and you leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek. You weren’t sure why you made the gesture, but something told you he needed the extra affection. You watched as his cheeks heated up and Minho immediately spoke up. “Ya! Why does he get a kiss? I want a kiss!” He shouted, causing you to roll your eyes and approach him as well. Smirking, he turned his cheek to you for a kiss only for you to give it a quick little pat before running off in a fit of giggles to get your clothes and take a shower. “No fair!!” He screeched, causing everyone else at the table to erupt with laughter.

While I’m the shower you heard a knock on the door. “Star? Do you mind if I grab something real quick? I promise I won’t look-“ you heard Felix familiar deep voice call out to you. “Sure! I think I actually left the door unlocked anyways-“ you reply, hearing the door open and soon after close. “I locked it back for you!” He said, and you quickly called back a thanks as you heard his footsteps walking away mixed with the water hitting the tile of the shower.

When you got out and dried off, starting to get dressed you noticed the shirt you had picked out had been replaced and you raised an eyebrow. Holding up the shirt that had been set with your other folded clothes you blushed a bit to see it was one of the young aussie’s shirts, his cologne still clinging to the fabric and causing a soft blush to tint your cheeks as you slipped it on over your sports bra before pulling on your loose fitting jeans. Why he switched your shirt with his own you weren’t really sure, fighting with yourself mentally over the meaning behind his actions. When you exited the bathroom and made your way to the kitchen to grab something to eat before class you felt all of their eyes on you and turned to catch Felix smirk before he turned away and took a sip from his mug. You ate quickly before grabbing your bag from the hooks by the door and slipped on your sneakers. “Bye guys, I’ll see you later!” You called, throwing them all a smile and wave as you started to head out. “Have fun at class!” They all called, starting to get ready themselves to head to JYPE for work.

After class, you made your way to JYPE with the takeout the boys had requested for dinner since they were practicing late that evening. As you were making your way into the practice room you heard a bit of commotion. “You’ve gotta be more careful, Chan! Really, I thought you’d know that better than all of us.” It was Minho, raising his voice as he gave the oldest a look of disappointment. “It was late at night and I was just carrying them to my car it wasn’t like we were caught hooking up or anything!” He shouts back, throwing his hands in the air. You weren’t sure what to do, awkwardly standing behind the door with the bags of food in your hands. “Guys, just calm down we can sort this out but we need to get it together before they get here it will be any minute now-“ Hyunjin said to try and ease them down from more of a fight. “Actually their location is showing they are already here.” Felix spoke up, holding up his phone for everyone to see. You decided to open the door slowly, wincing a bit as all eyes shot to you. “S-Sorry um….I can drop the food off and go back to the dorms if you need some privacy?” You said, walking cautiously towards them and setting the food on the table in the back. Chan sighed, shaking head head. “No, don’t go….some- uh, unfortunate events happened that just have us a bit on edge.” He said, looking back over to Leeknow. “I’ll say. A fan, or reporter one it doesn’t really matter, saw Chan carrying you to the car last night and got plenty of photos that are now all over the internet. Dispatch is having a field day.” He said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

The color drained from your face and you felt a bit faint. “What?” Was all you said, Hyunjin was by your side in a second, placing a hand gently on your lower back as he guided you to a seat. “I’m so sorry I- I don’t know what to say.” “It’s not your fault, so you don’t have to say anything.” Minho huffed, keeping his gaze locked on the oldest member. “Don’t blame Chan either then- it was really late and Star looked so tired in those pictures I’m sure they were out cold.” Changbin spoke up, standing to be beside the leader. “When we left they were already struggling to keep their eyes open and that was way before they got home. “This all goes back to why you shouldn’t be staying so late in the studio, then. Or else this wouldn’t have happened.” Minho spat back, pointing an accusatory finger at the producers. “Please stop-“ you said, looking at them all with worry. “Is there anything I can do to make it better? We could say I’m staff and I wasn’t feeling well?” You suggested, sitting on the edge of your seat now. “That could work- stays would eat that up since Chan is already so kind to our staff.” Seungmin spoke, pondering the idea for a bit. “No.” Felix said, glaring at the floor. “We should just tell them the truth. Star is my friend and they’ve been hanging out at the company with us but stayed too late and fell asleep. It’s the same as if a staff member got sick, Chan is the gentleman he is and was giving them a ride home.” Everyone stared at the blonde, concerned and skeptical faces among them. “It would be less lying and then we don’t have to feel like we are sneaking around…..it’s not like anything scandalous is going on anyways.” He said that last bit with a little huff of annoyance, almost as if he wished there was. You looked down to where you were still in his shirt, blushing a bit. “I’ll talk it over with management before we make any statements but- that isn’t an awful idea…” Chan said, Minho actually nodding in agreement. “It could work. If you’re okay with that, Star….people will inevitably find out who you are and you’ll most likely be pushed into the public’s eye to a degree.” You say and thought it over for a bit, biting at your lower lip as you contemplated the possibility. “Well- if I know anything about fandom culture they probably already know who I am if they saw my face….as in like- my name and stuff. So I can’t see the harm it would do to be honest-“ you shrugged, looking at Felix before leaning into him for comfort seeing he still looked a bit upset. “Then it’s settled….I’ll talk with management once we finish dinner.” Chan spoke, nodding over to the food and everyone made their way over to make a plate for themselves besides you and Felix who stayed in your spots on the couch. “Lix….are you okay? Somethings been off today-“ you questioned him, rubbing his back softly as you looked into soft brown eyes. “It’s nothing- I’ll talk to you about it later, okay? Before we go to bed..” you nodded, biting your lower lip again before rising. “Okay. Let’s go get some food before it’s all gone, yeah?” Smiling up at you he nodded before taking your hand.

The whole rest of the evening you felt your stomach twisting in knots with the anxiety of what it could be that he wanted to talk about when the two of you were alone.

author’s note: ooohh what do we think Lixie is gonna have to say to Star?? ૮꒰ྀི∩' ᵕ '∩꒱ྀིა thank you so much for all the lovely feedback I’ve been getting I try to reply to everyone but sometimes I’m either not sure what to say or I just forget to and then feel like it’s been too long to say something when I do remember to and just- I’m a very anxious person if you hadn’t guessed already heh but anyways I hope you enjoy and look forward to the next update soon ᕱᕱ⊹ ࣪ ˖

tag list (if your name is pink it means I was unable to tag you); @softkisshyunjin @coastinglove @palindrome969 @amara-mars @whiteghostt @ihrtlix @queen-in-the-shadows @soaplickerrr @skzswife

[leesmustardgarden]

Cooking with a Special Puppet Headcanons

P x (gn) Reader

Warnings/Tags: General game spoilers ofc, Sophia exhibiting the symptoms of an ED but there is a genuine canon Lore Reason I do not want to spoil sorry, P is a silly lil guy (affectionate), Gemini is a silly little guy (derogatory)

A/N: I miss taking culinary classes, so I coped by making this!! This was also an excuse to test out my new silly borders hehe

The first time you bring P into the kitchen, he accidentally makes a huge mess and feels so bad he starts avoiding the kitchen. If he needed you while you were in there, he’ll wait by the door until you come out even if it takes hours

It takes a lot of encouragement and patience to finally get him back in the kitchen, and even then he’s so careful of everything around him. It doesn’t always go well, and most of the time there’s still some accident that leaves a giant mess to clean up

It’s like watching a dragon in a china shop— every so often he catches on something and oh! Down comes all the pots and pans.

Gemini finds it hilarious but while he loves messing with P, he is also the one to tell him not to push it if he’s so stressed out and to take it little by little

P so sweet, he’s so caring and careful and yeah ok he can be mischievous but not in the sense that he’d purposefully make trouble for the people he cares for

In fact he tries to help you out by bringing around food for all the residents in the Hotel so you don’t have to do everything

Polendina takes Antonia’s meals to her and Pulcinella forces Venigni to actually eat when he forgets to

It’s very funny to watch, because as stubborn and eccentric as Venigni can be he cannot say no to his no. 1 bestie

Eugenié is silly and has to be reminded to eat (she gets too absorbed into her work), and Sophia usually refuses food. It’s worrying, but she says it’s alright and vaguely explains that she doesn’t need food 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

As the days go by and as he becomes more human and is able to control his strength better, he finally musters up the courage to ask you to teach him how to cook (which Gemini insists on being present for)

The first few times he is so shaky and afraid of everything in case it breaks, but after a few days he’ll start getting comfortable with the utensils and tools

Once he’s comfortable enough, he starts acting out small mischiefs and well

It’s hard to scold him when he’s finally overcome his fear of making a mess

“And then you carefully— No—“ The egg splats against the counter in seconds, spraying up to his freckled face. He pulls his hand up slowly, and with the most amused deadpan you’ve seen on him, turns his yolk-soaked palm to you. You don’t even fight the frown that settles on your face as Gemini coughs to hide a laugh.

“Nice one! I think—“ cough “— you’re getting better,” He says. You glare at him where P’s put him on the counter, and he laughs harder. You would strangle him, but that would probably just encourage the prick.

P looks innocently at you; his expression unchanging but a tilt in his shoulder gives away the fact that he knows what he’s doing. You’re sure that if he could laugh, he would be giggling in all his freckled cuteness. It softens your frown into fond exasperation as you reach a hand to wipe the egg off his face. He takes his clean legion hand and gently places it atop yours, pushing his cheek flush against your palm.

“Gemini is such a bad influence on you,” You say with a no heat in your voice. P looks up at you though his lashes, and you can almost see the mischief printed on his face.

“How am I a bad influence?” Gemini says indignantly, having the gall to sound offended.

You dip your hand into the bag of flour nearby, scoop out a handful, and throw it at him. He sputters and yelps, starting to complain. You’re too distracted by Gemini to notice the curious way P’s looking over at you and the bag of flour. He quietly slips his legion hand behind you when you move forward as your argument with Gemini progresses.

“That was actually so rude,“ Gemini says.

“Oh like you aren’t the one enabling him all the time.“

“When have I ever?”

“I don’t know— the art shop, for one?”

“That was such a long time ago!”

“Two days—!”

Flour hits your cheek, dusting your face in white. Gemini gets a second to laugh at you, before flour also hits him and his lamp topples over right into spilled egg. A bit away from you both, P is standing with his hands behind his back and the bag of flour peeking out from behind him. His face is twitching like it’s trying to smile, and you feel your heart melt at the sight. By the end of the day, you’re just glad the kitchen’s still standing.

[slashers-and-rats]

1. marking

billy lenz x gn!reader | nsfw |

“d-do you have to go…?”

billy knew the words cut through you. he could see it in the way you tensed, hand resting on the knob of the front door, clenching as you hesitated in actually turning it. if you turned around, it would only be worse. his pout was like your kryptonite. the way his eyes got big, and his voice softened to nothing but a whimper… he knew it was mean pulling out tactics like this, but he had no other choice.

well, that wasn’t entirely the truth. he could choose to let you go out with your friends without making a fuss. he could choose to survive a few hours without you, and find some other activity to do. he had taken up crochet, he liked to watch cartoons while he did it. he had chores he could be getting done, he hadn’t managed to get a load of laundry in that day. he could distract himself. he wouldn’t, though. he was choosing to guilt-trip you, and forget about the little bit of shame that came with it.

“i already told you, billy,” you began, turning around to face him. you looked so nice. you had gussied up, making sure your hair was done nice and your outfit was perfect. he had only ever seen you do that when you two were having date nights. he wasn’t used to seeing you doing it just go out with buddies. he didn’t see the need; why work so hard to impress people you couldn’t even cum in? “i’ve been putting this off for awhile. i miss them, and they miss me. i have to go.”

“oh…” he stuck out his bottom lip a bit more, looking up at you through his eyelashes. he knew how to strike your chords- he was plucking them like they were a harp. he could see it. you flexed your hands by your sides, and chewed on your bottom lip. billy wanted to urge you on, whisper ‘come on, come on… stay, stay, stay’ but he couldn’t be so obvious. no, this was a patience game. he just had to wait, and keep moving his pieces slowly and steadily.

“come on… don’t make that face,” you whined, pinching his cheeks between your fingers. he kept his gaze away from yours, keeping them trained down at the space between you too. it made you groan. “i won’t be that long. it’s only dinner, i’ll be back before bed. way before that! we can watch a movie or something when i get home. that sounds nice, right?”

billy glanced up at you. he was winning, he could feel it. you rested your hands on his shoulders, squeezing some comfort into the muscles there. he liked it when you touched him, even when it was in these circumstances. you were so firm, but so… soft. everything about you, even the sturdy bits, were soft and plush-like in billy’s eyes.

“can’t- can’t i come?” he mumbled. he began fiddling with the bottom of your shirt, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. it was soft too- nice and smooth. it was a nice shirt, one of the ones he wasn’t allowed to make messy or rip up after your date nights. something curled in the bottom of his stomach. you shouldn’t have been wearing it then. you should get different clothes, special clothes for only friendly things. these were his. you were his.

“do you even want to?”

he paused at the question. you had a point. he didn’t. but he also didn’t want to be without you. he felt embarrassed by the need, but it was only a pin prick in comparison to the ache he felt when thinking about you not being here.

you saw his hesitation. it felt like when you taught him chess, and you’d see his strategy from a mile away. the tides of the game began to turn.

“listen, i can’t stay. you know that, i know that… but! how about we make this a little more fun for both of us?” you offered a smile, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. you cupped his face and forced him to look at you, and he could see the glint in your eyes. it made his pulse quicken. it was that little sparkle in your expression, the mischievousness behind your grin, that made his heart thump hard behind his ribs.

“make it… fun?” he tilted his head questioningly, pulling you close by the bit of your shirt still in his clutches. fun meant sex, that wasn’t hard for him to figure out. or, at least, it meant something close to it.

“yeah! i was thinking,” as you spoke, you twirled a strand of his hair around your finger, “you always talk about marking me. you do it all the time, and i love it, but i never really have anyone to show it off to. how’re people gonna know i belong to you if they never actually see?”

billy felt confusion for a moment. he loved marking you up. he loved biting into your soft flesh, and watching it bruise. he loved seeing you walk around the house, wearing barely anything, flaunting those pretty little accessories only he could give you. he liked knowing that if anyone saw you, they’d see you were already accounted for. but, he also could acknowledge that with how little you actually went out, who was actually seeing you?

with all those thoughts swirling in his head, you had inched closer to his king. you were closing in, and winning a game you didn’t even really know you were playing. or maybe you did, and billy didn’t give you enough credit.

“why don’t you mark me up before i leave, huh? let’s make sure people know i have a big, handsome man waiting at home for me…”

your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in close to your body. his hands moved from where they were playing with your shirt, to holding you by the hips, pushing himself closer to your warmth. he pressed his mouth to your jaw, letting his lips rest there for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. he wanted to mark you so badly, but doing that meant that you’d still leave after. but at the same time, he was throbbing from the thought of you being seen with his symbols of possession dappling your skin. he almost wanted to make you wear a collar out too, one of the ones that had his name on the tag (a special valentine’s gift many moons ago).

you leaned back enough that you could see his face. he bit his lip hard, trying not to succumb to his own desires. he couldn’t give in. you’d leave if he did, that wasn’t an option…

“please, billy…? make me pretty? i want all of my friends to know i have the best man in the world…” you spoke with your lip sticking out in a pout, just like he had done.

well played, he thought. he grumbled something under his breath, and you almost thought he had said ‘you win’, before he was attacking your neck with his teeth. it started gentle enough. he dragged his canines along the expanse of your throat, feeling you swallow hard underneath his lips. he let his tongue trail behind his teeth, using it to watch for those little reactions your muscles gave to his teasing touch. soon, he found what he was looking for, and he sank a bite into a sweet spot near your jugular.

you moaned softly, pulling his body closer to yours. you leaned back against the door, allowing him to sandwich you in between his body and the wood. he slotted himself between your legs, wiggling a bit until he could feel your heat right up against his own crotch. he groaned a little himself, his hands running down to squeeze hard at your thighs, wanting to leave indents of his fingertips.

he began biting and sucking along more of your flesh, drinking in every little gasp and whimper you gave out. he knew you so well by now. he had each pleasure point mapped out in his brain. he hit each one, biting along your neck and down your shoulders, over your collarbone and down to whatever skin he could reach above the collar of your shirt. he pulled you in closer, rubbing himself into your inner thighs.

“g-gonna show everyone you’re mine… no one is gonna get you. you’re mine- no one else gets to have you,” he growled into your chest, his arms wrapping around your torso so that he could trap you against his own body. you squirmed in his grip, but melted once again when he kissed a soft spot on your shoulder.

he could hear your heart beating fast. he pushed his own chest into yours, groaning softly at the way your pulses seemed to make a beautiful little melody together. your moans only added to the sounds. he’d spend all day listening to this if you’d let him.

he was getting hard. the way you reacted to such a selfish act on his part made him ache. he wanted to be selfish. he wanted to coat you in his bruises, he wanted to go to the dinner with you just to pin you to the table and fuck you; he wanted to voice all these wants, but it just came out as garbled, tangled phrases. “fuck you in front of everyone- cum down your throat in- in front of your friends… i’ll make everyone see. i want everyone to see you’re mine. mine, mine, mine…”

you smiled so sweetly, your hands running up the back of his neck to grip at his hair. it pulled him back down to reality, forcing him back into his body for just a moment. he pulled away, breathing heavily and staring down at the bit of damage he had already managed to do. there was so much more empty space to be covered.

“you’re throbbing against me, baby, jeez,” you sighed. he blinked a few times, glancing down at where your bodies connected at the hips. he was. through the fabric of his pants, he could see the way his cock pulsed. he hadn’t even realized he was that hard, he had been so caught up in covering you with his little blessings.

he whined softly, pressing further into you. you gasped softly at the way his cock rubbed up against you. he felt desperate. desperate to make you stay with him, and desperate to have you touch him. you reached down, palming him through his pants. his mouth hung open in a quiet whine, his lips going back to your neck and sucking hard there to muffle himself. you let out a whine of your own, squeezing around his clothed shaft.

“i need… need you, need, need… mine- i need m-my piggy. need it, need now, need-“ his rambles fell out against your skin. he humped into your palm- sporadic, weak little thrusts to show that he needed you. he did, he needed it so badly. you knew that, you could see it.

you hummed, pulling your hand away from his crotch. it made him choke on a few of his words, but quickly he recovered when he saw you turning around. you wiggled your pants down your hips, before pressing your hands firmly against the door in front of you both.

“make it quick, come on.” it was all you said, and yet it was enough.

billy leaped forward, grabbing you by the hips and immediately grinding himself against your butt. you giggled breathily, wiggling back against him to tease. he growled, yanking down his own pants so that they sat at the middle of his thighs. it was enough, for now. usually he’d want all of his clothes off, all of yours too, so that he could feel every little inch of your skin pressing against his. it felt like he was melding with you, combining your bodies into a mess of sweat and sex. but he didn’t have time for that, you had to go.

when did he begin getting worried about you being on time? he didn’t know. what he did know was that he was throbbing, and had to get inside of you before he burst at the seams.

billy lined himself up with you, and rubbed his head over your hole a few times. he saw you shudder, and near purred from the joy of making your body react. to know that you felt the same way he did, so needy for this release, was intoxicating to him.

he didn’t waste much more time, pressing the tip of his cock inside of you. he groaned as he leaned over your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. he pushed the rest of the way in, slowly inching every centimetre of his shaft into your heat, and pulling you closer and closer to him. once he was all the way inside, he nuzzled into the back of your neck, grumbling small praises into your flesh.

you sighed, squirming slightly on his cock. it filled you out nicely. he wasn’t the biggest in the world, but he knew how to use what he had. he knew how to swivel his hips just right, and rub up into those little spots inside you that made you go crazy.

he was slow to get started. billy thrusted shallowly into you, his lips moving from your neck to between your shoulder blades. he drank in every little noise you let slip. he urged you to make more by biting along the skin he could reach, squeezing your body close to his. you rolled your hips back, trying to meet his movements the best you could, but he was holding you so tightly you could barely move. he was trapping you against him, using himself as chains to keep you tied to him.

“come on, baby, we need to be faster than this or I’m going to be late… please…” you whined, once again squirming in his grasp.

billy mumbled something, sounding annoyed at having been interrupted, before pulling away from you. he held your hips, pulling out all the way, before slamming back into you roughly. you gasped at the sudden force. you crumpled against the door, whimpering, at his mercy as he pumped into you. he shifted his feet, angling himself perfectly to begin an assault right on that sweetest spot inside of you. it made you sob, pushing back into every one of his thrusts the best you could manage.

he was starting to think he was winning this game you two were playing. here you were, impaled on his cock, moaning like a whore, and going nowhere. you were covered in his marks, bruises already blossoming along your skin. you looked perfect. you looked like his pretty little plaything, one that wouldn’t leave him even if they tried.

the image only encouraged him. he leaned forward, shoving your shirt up your back, and pressing his wet lips to the skin there. he drooled along your flesh, cooling off your burning skin as he began sucking more hickeys into the empty space. he felt you squeeze at this, and it made him whimper loudly, yanking your hips back into his cock.

“b-billy… touch me. make me cum, please, please…” your pleas came out so weak he almost didn’t hear them. he pushed his head up, reaching one of his hands down to hover over your crotch, while the other went to squeeze your chest.

“you’re mine? say it, say you’re mine… my piggy, say it… say you’re all mine,” he muttered into your ear.

you groaned, “I’m yours, billy. all yours, you know that. now, please, please touch me. make me cum, please.”

he smiled against your shoulder, before biting down hard there. he began playing with you, rubbing you and touching you in just the right ways. he knew how to make you cum, he had done it so many times before. he could tell you were already so pent up too, with how tightly you kept squeezing around him every time he added a new mark to his collection.

for a moment, there was only the sound of your hips slapping against each other. the sound was wet and sloppy, and between each one he growled and groaned vague praises. you added to the symphony of sounds by moaning as he played with you, getting closer and closer to release with every whimper and hard thrust from him.

soon, you were gushing onto his hand, shaking and gripping at the door for stability. he laughed quietly at the way you crumbled, and adjusted so that he was holding you up against his body once again. he let his head come to rest in the crook of your neck while he focused hard on coming deep inside you. it didn’t take much before he was spilling into your heat, groaning loud and slowing his hips so that he didn’t die of overstimulation.

you both stood there for a moment, chests heaving and bodies hot and sticky. you sighed, tapping his hip to signal that he needed to remove himself. he whimpered, nuzzling into you, but you shook your head.

“out,” you instructed gently, and he listened. he pulled himself from you slow, gasping at the cold air hitting his cock. he stepped back, looking at the mess he had made. the hickeys, the bites, the bruises, the cum dripping down your thigh- it was a masterpiece. it almost made him hard enough to go again.

you stood up straight, pulling your pants and underwear back up without cleaning the cum from your hole. he blinked a few times at the movement, surprised. you turned around, going over to him and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“was that good enough to tie you over until i get back?” you asked. he nodded hesitantly, looking you over as you quickly smoothed out the wrinkles in your clothes, and fixed up your hair. “good. now I’m gonna go out with all of these pretty marks, and your cum deep inside of me, and everyone is gonna know i belong to you. does that sound okay?” he nodded again, and you smiled. “great! i’ll be back before you know it. love you!”

and with that, you whisked yourself out the door, and left him standing with his cock out and confusion plastered on his face.

checkmate.

[ijbolz]

smut , mdni

❝ ceo!ricky x secretary!reader

— from wearing the skimpiest skirts to the tightest blouses, you act oblivious to the way you're making your boss feel. running his patience thin until he makes you take his cock in his office.

warnings: oral (m!receiving), calling him sir (for a bit), he calls you his fucktoy

( likes and reblogs appreciated!♡ )

ricky wonders if you’re doing it on purpose. every time he’d ask you to report back to his office, it’s like you’re running a show for him. picking up something you dropped, making sure he sees your panties as you bend down, wearing the skimpiest skirt you could find for the day. or bending a little bit more than usual over him as you talk about things ricky can’t even manage to remember, his attention all on your cleavage, your breasts tight against the fabric.

he almost wanted to say you could always take it off, as the caring boss he is he wants to make sure you’re comfortable, not because he just wants to have your breasts all to himself. you never fail to make him needy for you, cock straining hard against his pants, hidden under his desk. he’d never say a word though.

but ricky’s patience can run thin, like a string threatening to snap into two. the moment you walk into his office at a particularly stressful day for him, his firm voice commands you to lock the door behind you, his mind wanting some form of relief.

so you rush over to your boss as the diligent secretary that you are, asking if he’s alright. sure there were times that he had to fulfill tiring days, but right now felt different. even the air in his office was making you quite bothered. you only shake your thoughts off, asking him if he wanted a cup of coffee, even though you know he doesn’t prefer drinks like that.

“strip for me.” you make the effort to look at him with wide eyes, suppressing the smirk that was creeping on your lips. was your boss finally at his limit after you worked hard these previous days? working hard to tease him until all he could think about is you? to the point that it’s disrupting his work. but all those papers needed to be signed can wait later, when your pussy is starting to get wet from the anticipation.

but you don’t give in easily, you love it when you tease him, bringing out reactions that people won’t expect to come from ricky himself.

“what do you mean?”

your doe eyes were upon him, and ricky starts to think. he leans over his desk. two can play this game alright.

“forgetting to address me how i told you to? i think you should be calling me sir."

you were expecting his sudden change of tone, and he doesn't miss the way you press your thighs together.

"should i repeat myself? my secretary should know to never question my orders.”

with a nod, you follow his words. ridding yourself of your tight skirt, discarded by the floor along with your top. seductively undoing each single button, ricky leaning back on his chair, starting to palm himself through his pants.

and when you finally take off your top, he bites back a moan at your cute pair of underwear, it’s like you wore it this morning with the intention of stripping before him.

there were no questions raised between the two of you, like an unspoken word in the air as the both of you were awaiting this moment.

he only glares at you directly before you kneeled. he lets out a low laugh at the sight, not surprised at the way you always know what to do and what he means, despite his lack of word—exactly why he appointed you as his secretary.

your breasts that are free from your clothes quickly captivated him. his fantasy of fucking his cock in between them thrown to the side, as he decides that he wants to feel your mouth right now. you can’t talk back at him when your mouth’s full, right?

“let me take this off for you, sir—”

“forget about what i said earlier, just call me ricky.” it would be so hot to keep the disparity between the two of you while doing the act, but he feels that it would be better for you to call him by his name, much more personal... just like how you’re his personal fucktoy now.

you begin to unbutton his pants, pulling down just enough to take his cock out, your hand making its way to wrap around it. leaning closer, the first contact of your tongue on the head of his cock had him moaning, licking the pre-cum that started to collect. you look at him in the eye, mouth still agape as you let the heavy tip rest on your tongue, ricky’s fingers tangling itself within the strands of your hair.

never breaking your gaze at him, you move your head side to side, teasing, before taking the head of his cock within your mouth, tongue dragging from the underside back up to his slit, earning a moan from his throat.

“take it.” he pushes your head further, up until what you could only take of his length for now. next time though, he’ll try to fit all of his cock in your mouth, until your nose hits the skin by the base. he lets you stay still for awhile, your tongue licking around the shaft. it felt so wet and warm, as ricky fights the urge to buck his hips up.

you begin a slow pace at first, getting used to his girth, head bobbing up and down, your hand stroking the rest that you couldn’t take. ricky’s hand guides you, continuing your ministrations until the wet sound of sucking him off was echoing inside the room, his cock sticky from your spit, the side of your lip messy.

he groans as you start to find a steady pace, speeding up the way your mouth was taking him repeatedly, your hand circling around his shaft with a firm grip. your tongue traces the veins of his hard cock, you never forget to lick at his sensitive slit every time you get to his tip.

“shit, my pretty fucktoy is doing so good for me,” the medley of your hand stroking, along with your mouth sucking him good made him throw his head back against his chair, moaning as he drowns in the pleasure, biting his lip. you can’t help but moan around his cock too, the vibrations heading straight for his high that’s getting closer by the second. it's so hot how his heavy panting is the only thing you could hear right now.

but he wanted more, his hard cock starting to twitch in your mouth. you take this as a sign to coax him into cumming, hollowing your cheeks before sucking him harder than before, fondling with his balls, bobbing your head over and over. you trace the line of his vein, fighting the way his hand is trying to push you further down, this time stroking the rest of his length while you pay attention to his sensitive head, licking the underside with pressure before never leaving his slit alone, sucking until his cock twitches inside your mouth.

ricky immediately pulls you away from him, your hand never ceasing to pleasure him until he shoots his warm cum, making a mess on your face until it drips down to your exposed breasts. fuck… his thighs go numb as he came hard in front of you, moaning at the sight of his dear secretary licking remains of his release on his cock, pushing you away, telling you he’s too sensitive for now.

and as you let him catch his breath, he watches you clean up the mess he made all over your face, your tongue catching his cum that splattered by the side of your lip.

“tell me we’re not done yet, right?” you boldly coo at him, flashing the same doe eyes as before. ricky only chuckles under his breath, urging you to stand in front of him, his hand touching the damp spot on your panties.

“of course, it’s your turn now... my fucktoy did so well for me, i think she deserves a little reward.”

he glances at the door of his office. his secretary could never fail him, smiling at the way you locked the door once you entered a while ago, making sure no one would dare barge in and disturb, free from prying eyes, your body made for his sultry gaze only.

you wouldn’t mind if you spend a little bit overtime at work today, right?

[bagopucks]

J. Hughes - Record Breaker

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Reader

Requested✨

Word count: 3.3k

Warning(s): none!

I know this is SO late, but my only excuse was not wanting to proof read it. It’s so tedious lol

—————————————

“It’s coming tonight. I can feel it.”

“Yeah well.. it might not.”

I adjusted my top and reached for my camera. The boys had already been dressed and ready for the game, waiting on me. Jack was nervous. So much so that his ritual of a pregame nap almost didn’t happen. He tried to lay down with me at one point, but his mind wouldn’t settle. Eventually I talked him down, but the second Jack was up and talking to Luke, all of my hard work had been undone.

I understood the youngest Hughes brother was only being supportive, but I wished he wouldn’t bring it up as much. The regular season point record.

I slipped out of the bedroom I shared with Jack, walking down the hall to see my boys sat on the couch. Luke’s face was in his phone while Jack was busy bouncing his knees and twiddling his thumbs.

“Are we ready?” I called to the boys, earning their attention simultaneously.

“Let’s get this show on the road.” Luke smiled at me as he stood up. I examined both brothers’ outfits. Luke’s looked slightly nicer than Jack’s, but Jack’s had a personal touch to it that helped him stand out.

“Come on, Jack-O.” I held my hand out to him, and he was slow to stand and make his way over. Jack grabbed my hand and pursed his lips.

“Even if you don’t do it, I’m still so incredibly proud of you.” I spoke softly while Luke walked past us and to the door.

“I know,” his words escaped as soft whispers.

“I know you want this Jack. Just be patient and I’m sure it’ll come to you.”

Patience was something I had not known the Hughes brothers to have. Quinn was the only one who even had a sliver of patience, but Jack? Not so much. He wasn’t demanding, but he could get very antsy and nervous when he waited too long for something. Especially when he put in so much work and effort, and he might not even get what he worked so hard to achieve.

The drive to the stadium was quiet. Luke occasionally filled the silence talking to me, but Jack was still stuck in his own head. When we got out of the car, I gave Jack a quick kiss and told him to share his moment walking in with Luke. He looked uncertain, but I promised I’d meet him inside after people finished taking their photos of him and his brother. I had things to do in my office anyway before I started my own ice-side photography. Jack and I parted ways, and I had only gotten into the threshold of the building when my phone began to ring. I was quick to check and see who was calling. I smiled upon the contact photo.

“Hey, Hischier! What’s up?”

“I know this is.. very last minute. But we were all thinking about having a little party for Jack? If he breaks the record tonight?”

“I think it’s a great idea. What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know.. do you guys have enough space in your apartment for all of us?”

“If we move some furniture. What kind of party were you thinking.”

“Just some drinks and games and stuff.”

Nico was always so descriptive.

“What about a cake?”

“I wouldn’t mind a cake.”

“For Jack, Nico.” I clarified with a chuckle. I set my camera bag down on my computer chair and woke up my computer by wiggling the mouse.

“Oh! Obviously.”

“You drive Jack and Luke home tonight, and I’ll go pick up a sheet cake and some red icing to put his name on it.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

I always thanked Jack’s lucky stars that he had such a supportive and loving captain. I couldn’t imagine having to deal with anybody other than Nico.

“I’ll talk to ya later, Cap.”

“You too!” The line went dead before I could even pull my phone from my ear. I chuckled softly and shook my head.

The next half an hour had been spent looking through emails before I slipped out of my office and made my way down to the ice in a fenced off area. I got my things situated, and settled in for the long night ahead.

I wasn’t a hockey fan before I met Jack. Through Jack, it became my favorite sport. The atmosphere was electric, I loved the fans and the whole dynamic of the teams. I especially loved the excitement and aggression. After we dated for a year, Jack convinced me to submit a portfolio to the team, and my job application to become a photographer. I made him promise not to tell any of the staff that we had any relationship, since we had still been a pretty private couple. I wanted to be hired without any help or push from him. I wanted it to be authentic if I was hired.

I had been ecstatic the day I got the call, and every day since then had been a dream come true.

“It’s coming tonight! Can’t you feel it?” I looked up from my phone to see one of the other photographers, Hannah.

“What’s coming?” I raised a brow, but smiled nonetheless. Her presence always brought me joy.

“Jack beating the record.”

“Oh! Oh I’m sure it’ll happen. He’s a little nervous, but I keep reminding him if it’s not this game it’ll probably be the next.”

“It’ll be a big night for the Hughes family.”

“I have no doubt.”

There was a blur of joy and static electricity with each goal.

Jesper Boqvist

Jonas Siegenthaler

Miles Wood

Tomas Tatar

Tomas Tatar again.

I waited with bated breath. My lip pulled between my clenched teeth.

Nobody knows how fast hockey truly is until they’re up against the glass. Nobody knows how slow motion it feels when you’re waiting as impatiently as your lover for the record breaking goal.

The puck was passed, my eyes almost losing it until I saw it just barely hit Jack’s stick. I knew it was going in. I knew it was going to hit the back of the net, and yet I still hesitated to shout when I lost the puck after he shot it. I only acted off impulse when the rest of the crowd jumped to their feet and cheered. It was so much more than cheering. It was celebrating.

“Holy shit! Holy shit he did it!” I screamed, jumping up and down. Jack swiftly passed by, but he spared a moment to look at me. A moment where time felt like it slowed. I’d heard this crowd during its loudest and quietest nights. This had to be ranked in the top five noisiest games.

I watched pridefully as Jack fell into a huddle of celebrating players, his lips parted in a cheek aching smile. Everybody patted his helmet and his back. I looked toward the bench to see others leaning over the wall, eager for their high fives and fist bumps.

The rest of the game was a blur. We had won it well before it was over, but that didn’t stop the boys from celebrating anyways. I knew their time in the locker room would most likely double because of the two Hughes boys both having their own accomplishments to celebrate. So the second I knew I was free to go, I sent Luke a text and slipped out of the building to Jack’s car.

I may or may not have sped to the grocery store, but when I got there, I was even quicker to pick out a sheet cake that, to my luck, was decorated in Devils colors. I asked the woman in the bakery how many it would serve. The amount she gave was more than enough for the team. When I asked her to put a personal message on it, she gave another swift nod and helped me out.

Only when I informed her who it was for, did she give me a big smile.

“Tell that kiddo I said congratulations. That’s some big stuff, breaking the franchise record.” She waved a hand excitedly at me as I paid and left.

When I got home, Nico was blowing my phone to smithereens, I had to tell him to be patient while I tried balancing the cake on one hand and kicking the door shut with my foot. He said he had the guys all informed of Jack’s address, and that he had Jack bouncing off the walls in his apartment. I hid the cake in the fridge and let Nico know he could send Jack down.

I kicked my shoes off by the door when I came back into the living area. It was mere seconds until I heard the door lock jingle and the whole thing was thrown open. It scared me more than I’d like to admit.

“I did it!” Jack practically shouted with a huge smile. I held my arms out, and he scooped me up into a hug.

“I’m so, so proud of you, hun.” I praised as my hands held his cheeks.

No words could express my love and adoration for him. And no words could express his excitement and sense of pride. We were both speechless and still fighting for words.

“I love you so much.” I pressed a kiss to Jack’s cheek. He swiftly returned the gesture to my lips.

“Nico thinks we’re gonna go out.” Jack finally released me as he whisked away down the hall to our room.

“Oh does he?” I called with a knowing smirk.

“Yeah. I’m a little tired, but I think it’ll be fine. I’m still excited.” I folded my arms across my chest as he spoke. I heard thudding and rustling, then eventually Jack returned in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

“You can come out too if you want.” He offered, though he knew I wasn’t one to go out drinking with his team.

“I think I’ll have to pass.” I reached for Jack’s hands and turned us around, so my back was to the hall and his back was to the front door. He raised a brow at me.

“Just for tonight?”

“I’ll be here to celebrate with you when you come home.” I lied, though I knew my words were only a means to an end.

“But everybody’s gonna be there?” Jack pressed on.

“Honey,” I trailed my hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. “You’ll be fine.”

Jack popped his bottom lip out as a last resort.

“I’ll be waiting for you when you get home. In the prettiest outfit imaginable. And we can celebrate, any way you want.” My voice dipped into a sultry tone. For a moment I thought I had convinced Jack to skip out on the whole ‘outing’. Until I heard knocking on the door.

“I got it.” I slipped past Jack and quickly made my way to the door. When I opened it, I was greeted by a smiley Timo. “Jack! Can you go grab me my pink sweatshirt!” I called, glancing back to see Jack nod and swiftly walk down the hall. I hoped it would be a good enough excuse to keep him busy, seeing as I didn’t have a pink sweatshirt.

“Come on,” I quickly waved Timo inside, about to shut the door when I heard my name shouted in a whisper by Jesper unnecessarily running down the hall. I watched Nicole trail behind him with a bottle of wine in her hand and a sorry smile on her lips.

“Can you tell he’s excited?” Nicole asked sarcastically. It brought a bright smile to my lips and likewise a giggle.

“Jack still thinks he’s going out.” I stepped out into the hall as Jesper went into the apartment. Nicole eventually met me in front of the door, offering a swift hug before we stood and awaited the arrival of the others.

“Babe?” I heard Jack call.

“Keep looking!” I peeked back into the apartment, Jack still nowhere to be seen. I assumed he hadn’t left the bedroom.

“I hear people.” Jack peeked his head out of our room, looking down the hall which was a straight shot to the wide open door.

“Nicole?” Jack sounded offended, no doubt already making up some assumption in his head. “Is that what’s going on? You girls are all gathering at my place?” He immediately came down the hall, only to be ambushed by hugs from Jesper and Timo. The yell he let out was certainly one for the books.

Soon others began to show up. All variations of alcohol was laid out on the kitchen counter, and Vitek came in clutch with white solo cups. I did not ask why. Goalies were weird. Jack had people talking to him left and right, mostly guys from the team. All of them were telling their tale of Jack’s record breaking moment. The way they saw it happen and how excited they were. I hadn’t had time to move furniture, but thankfully the boys did when they needed to, to make more space.

Drinks were poured, most of the girls residing in the kitchen while I floated back and forth to check up on the boys.

“You guys wanna see what I got?” I beamed as I slipped back into the kitchen. I stopped only momentarily to listen to the sound of Jack’s laugh. I could tell this was one of the happiest moments he’s had since moving to Jersey.

“What is it?” Kristen set down her wine glass and placed her hands on her hips.

I opened the fridge and slowly pulled the cake out. It probably needed to adopt a good temperature before being eaten, but I still wanted to show it off. I set the cake down on the counter, and I soon had a huddle of ladies over me.

“Oh I love it!” Reanne playfully slapped my shoulder. “Jack’s such a lucky kid. Can’t wait for you to have a ring on that left finger of yours.” Her words made me blush. Jack and I had never talked about marriage. We weren’t in a rush.

“Did you get candles?” Nicole piped up. She leaned against the counter with her own white cup in her hands. Some of the girls had glasses, others chose to use the disposable solo cups. They had the privilege of using normal glass because I trusted them.

“I didn’t even think about it. Shit.” I shook my head. “I should have.”

“He’ll love it all the same.” I glanced up at Nicole. “I know he will.”

He certainly did. The second I walked into the living room with the cake, twenty plus pairs of eyes lit up in excitement. Especially Jack’s. He was seated on the couch in between Jesper and Nico. His cheeks turned red, and I couldn’t help but cheer him on with the rest of the guys. I set the cake down on the coffee table after the team moved their cups. Nicole followed quick after with a spatula and a knife to cut the cake. I had Kristen on my other side with plates and a box full of plastic forks.

“This is awesome!” Jack looked up at me as he spoke.

I knew both of our faces would be hurting by the end of the night.

“The cake was Nico’s idea.” I was quick to redirect my lover’s attention to the Swiss man in our beanbag chair. Nico smiled at Jack and gave a nod.

“I didn’t think about the words though- she came up with the.. ya know? The icing words.” I could tell Nico was already buzzed by his struggle to recall the English language. I chuckled.

“We have to sing!”

And what do twenty five guys sing, half drunk and excited, looking for another way to celebrate? “He’s A Jolly Good Fellow.” And none of them had the vocal cords for those high notes.

The cake was cut, plates were distributed, and everybody eventually settled in the same room. I had found myself in Jack’s lap while he ate. I occasionally swiped a piece of icing on my finger, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“This is so much better than drinks.” Jack muttered, “I don’t know why we don’t do this more often.” I smiled down at him and ran a hand through his hair.

“Did anybody get a cake for Luke?” Jesper asked me rather loudly. Loud enough to catch the attention of others.

Luke looked up like a deer in headlights, I watched him from the floor, pleading me silently that I wouldn’t put him on the spot like I had with Jack.

“Luke doesn’t need a cake.” Jack waved his hand dismissively. “He got his solo lap.” A chorus of laughter followed the middle brother’s words.

I was proud of Jack, but I was also incredibly proud of Luke. Both boys had an incredible night, and I knew I’d have to keep them up for the inevitable moment Quinn wanted to call.

As the night wound down, a few of the girls helped me clean the mess. We straightened the furniture and threw trash away before the boys began to leave. Nico had been the last there, still standing in the doorway when I was washing the few used wine glasses.

“I’m real proud of you, Jack.” My heart melted as I listened in on their conversation.

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

“I can’t wait to watch future Devils play under your number one day.” I peeked out of the kitchen just in time to catch their hug. Jack saw Nico out before he gently shut the door. We both exhaled, though my sigh alerted him of my presence.

“You didn’t have to do all that.” Jack smiled at me as he held his arms out and made his way over. I stepped into his hold and pressed my hands into his back.

“You deserved it, Jack. You’ve worked so incredibly hard. The least you could have was a piece of cake and a few friends over.” I heard a thud from the bathroom. We both looked over in time to see Luke step out.

“Ew gross.”

I rolled my eyes at the youngest, Jack scoffed.

“Relax, dude. We just wanted some us time.” Jack spoke up.

“Whatever us time is for you guys, I don’t wanna hear it while I’m trying to sleep.” Luke stepped into his room across the hall and pushed his door shut. Jack and I snickered together. My head fell against his chest while his rested on too of mine.

“Now I’m thinkin’ about it.” Jack whispered, and I slowly lifted my head to look at him.

“About what?”

“You and me? In bed? Celebrating some more?”

I laughed and rolled my eyes at his antics, but I was already on board, grabbing his hand and slipping down the hall with him trailing behind.

“Just can’t be too loud, Jack. Poor Lukey might get upset.” Jack shut the door to our bedroom, laughing all the while.

“He’s always upset over something.” But at least he wasn’t upset over not having a cake.

Jack backed me toward the bed, my hands coming to clasp around the back of his neck. I leaned backwards as he leaned forward to capture my lips in a kiss.

Nothing made me happier than getting him all to myself after nights like these.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[dronarryfest]

What an incredible first week of dronarry! Here is the roundup of all the amazing works we’ve shared so far. We’re giving you the Sunday off to catch up if you haven't yet! And we want to send a huge THANK YOU to our wonderful readers for all the comments and kudos you’ve been sending. Keep them coming and stay tuned for week two!

[FIC] Some Nights || E || 23k || by @thecouchsofa

Ron fucks up his Silencing Charms in the dorms one night. Then Malfoy does. The rest, as they say, is history. 

💭 Came for the filth stayed for the feels. And the filth. Scorching hot, funny as fuck, got me curling my toes so hard my whole leg cramped. - emsuemsu

💭 This is so incredibly perfect, like the smut is perfect but Harry’s cluelessness and excitement is amazing and Ron just rolling with the punches…needless to say I’ve already read it more than once - marebear723

[FIC] Hear Me Out || E || 5k || by @rainstormradish

“I know this is all just a big joke to you,” whispered Draco, his lips inches from Ron’s ear, his breath on his neck, his hips pressed against him, Merlin, “but I need you to fucking commit to the bit here, Ron.”

💭 I am burning UP. i love how distinct each of their characters are. And the tension???? God, they’re all so sexy. - lostinyourcostellation

💭 Scorching hot! Absolutely love this premise & the way you carried it out here felt sooo good. Wonderfully done :) - thestarryknight

[ART] Signing The Forever Bond || G || by @digthewriter

No fanfare adorned their sacred moment, no gaze of a world eager to witness, for they sought not the spotlight's glow but rather the quiet dance of shared hearts. And some paperwork.

💭 I adore long hair Dronarry! What beautiful patterns and color, and I love their comfortable closeness and contentment. adore long hair Dronarry! What beautiful patterns and color, and I love their comfortable closeness and contentment. -schmem_14

💭  This is so gorgeous! I'm obsessed with ALL the details. Bearded Draco! There isn't enough Bearded!Draco content, honestly. - sleepstxtic

[FIC] Permanent || M || 14k || by @citrusses

"Harry's always been fixated on older men. Have you ever noticed that, Ron?” Granger asks. “Have I ever noticed—Hermione, we’ve lived with the bloke for years! He doesn’t bring them home much, but I’m not blind. I see who he’s shagging.” “And David, an older man, tells Harry ‘Saviour Complex’ Potter he needs him to save the world?” “He didn’t stand a chance,” Ron agrees. “Fascinating,” Draco says, in a strangled voice.

💭 I love this so much. I can't wait to reread it. What a gorgeous fucking fic with beautiful, agonising detail and introspection. - TheGoblinMatriarch

💭 Omg I don’t want to be that person BUT I COULD READ 300K OF THIS it was brilliant! - Moonflower_Rose

[FIC] These Foolish Little Games || E || 8.5k || by @schmem14

Thanks to a falling out between Harry and Ron, Draco can finally get together with Harry, have the most spectacular and inappropriate office sex, and enjoy Weasley-free weekends out. Life is perfect. So why does he have the nagging feeling he should get the estranged best friends to patch things up?

💭 Incredibly steamy, love the setup of a Ron/Harry fight and Draco’s scheming ❤️❤️❤️❤️ - citrusses

💭 yesssss - i am always here for the under the desk shenanigans. Lol at how easily they convinced Ron. There was no hope for him 😂 - MaesterChill

[FIC] Edging into His Heart || E || 5k || by @chelsiewhitlock & diplobeanz

Stuck on a long stakeout, Draco has reached the end of his patience with Ron Weasley's rule. In an effort to make the best of the situation, he decides to push the boundaries and past the edge of propriety. Shenanigans ensue.

💭  THIS is the Draco Ron dynamic I’m here for 😍 this story was fucking hot, and that tantric spell thingy oh, my… 🥵 - schmem_14

💭 wowww the dynamics you have going on here!!! 100/10 will be thinking about forever.  - fluxweed

[FIC] People Are Boring || E || 14.3k || by @starquestingfordrarry

“Alright, what’s your terrible news?” Draco braces himself on Harry’s desk. “Weasley’s hot.” “You’ll have to be more specific, there are a lot of hot Weasleys.” Draco makes a strangled, groaning sound in his throat. “The Weasley. Weasel. Weasel-by. Your Weasley.” Harry’s heart jumps to his throat, and his stomach drops to his shoes. “Ron’s back?”

💭 THAT.WAS. DMCJSKDKCJDH. I was excited, my heart ached at one point, I cried, then screeched, this really did have it all 🔥 - Jaqie

💭 So softly angsty then so tender then so sexy. This dynamic just works beautifully, and your Ron is 🔥🔥🔥 - gr8k8

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 18

An: Thanks for your patience, March is a really busy month for me! The tension is building and I can't wait for the next part (19 is looking steamy).

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 2800

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of knives, mentions of death.

I think of all the phone calls I’ve made throughout my life. The hundreds of hours I’ve spent talking to friends and family. Sharing the exciting news of getting into college with my childhood best friend who moved away in elementary school. Gossiping with my favourite coworker about an awful shift when she didn’t open with me in the morning. Listening closer to hear the whispers of shared secrets between the few people I really care about. Talking late into the night about that one person I couldn’t scrub from my mind. The conversation slowly dying down but neither of us ready to hang up. Neither of us ready for the silence after the line goes dead.  The relief of hearing their voice after days or weeks of nothing. All those conversations flicker through my mind as I stare at the landline sitting on Captain Price’s desk. It’s a clunky, faded, black thing with a rubber coil attaching the receiver to the phone and the numbers on the keys have long since rubbed off.

I’m not prepared to hear his voice. After learning all I know about him, I don’t think it’ll sound the same. There’s no way the man I’m about to speak to is the one I’ve known my whole life.

Soap was supposed to be here. Then five minutes ago, he was called out to demolitions by another sergeant who said it was “urgent”. I wasn’t sure what his specialty was until recently and after getting to know him better, it makes perfect sense. He spends almost every waking moment out there, yet won’t tell me what they’re doing. Whenever I ask, he sits up straighter and has to suppress his smile, but I don’t miss the excitement in his eyes when he says it’s classified.

Right now I’d rather be there with Soap than sat in front of Price and Ghost and some scrawny man with equipment hooked to that damn phone. I’d rather be almost anywhere than here.

The script crinkles in my hand. The Captain already gave the go-ahead. Now it’s all on me. I feel Ghost’s eyes on me. I want to find some comfort in them, but just can’t. After he left, he told Price about the mole. He had to, I get it, but I also can’t help the feeling that nothing I say will stay between us.

I wish I was back in his room, lying on top of the covers and reading his copy of Huckleberry Finn knowing that no one could get to me. Only Simon.

And then the phone is in my hand, pressed against my ear: ringing once, twice. And then it stops. Shuffling sounds fill the other line. Then, I hear his voice. That voice that softens when it speaks to me. That has always been so understanding. That ordered those men to mercilessly take the lives of innocent civilians praying for salvation.

“Y/n?” he asks, almost unsure – like the possibility of talking to me might just be too good to be true.

“Hi,” the word dad almost slips from my lips, but I know if it does, I won’t be able to keep it together. My hands don’t feel attached to my body. Like somewhere in the numb space of my forearms, they were simply disconnected. My mouth is dry and I eye the script, but can’t get the words to come into focus.

“Are you okay? Have they hurt you? Are you eating?” there’s just something to his voice, that I can’t quite pin down. Something disingenuous. Like he’s only playing the role of a concerned parent. When I meet Ghost’s eyes, I know he hears it too. He nods, urging me to speak.

“I’m fine,” my voice is strangely even. “They said I could see you again. That they’d make a trade,” the rest of my body disconnects from my mind and suddenly I’m standing beside Ghost watching myself talk on the phone. The hope in my voice is real. The girl on the phone is going to go home safely to her dad. And it sounds like she genuinely believes every word she’s saying.

“Oh my sweet girl,” he croons. “I want nothing more. Your mother and I have been worried sick.”

“Mom?” I latch onto the hopeful word. “Is she there with you?”

“No, but she’s somewhere safe, being guarded by some of our best. You’ll get to see her soon,” he purposely leaves out her location, unknowing of 141’s extensive intel.

“Dad, I-I,” just like in the script, Price audibly warns me we’re short on time. An intentional move to add more pressure to our conversation. My father will have heard him in the background. “They said I can’t talk much longer,” my tone is rushed and worried. I see a small smile tug on the corner of Price’s mouth. I’m convincing.

“Hey,” he says. “Soon enough we’ll have all the time in the world,” the ultranationalist who snuck into my room said he was displeased that I leaked the ambush info, but you’d never pick up on that while listening to him on the phone. He hides his cruelty so well. Even knowing what he’s capable of now, the man I’m speaking to just doesn’t sound like the type. “But y/n, I’m going to need to know what they want from us first. Okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble like a scared child. I smooth out the script across my thighs and read off their demands. I recite the names of five men. Two of their leaders and three of 141’s soldiers who were taken prisoner at one point or another. Neither my father nor my uncles are on the list. There’s no way they’d trade one of themselves for me. Even I know that.

“Those are the men they want?” I hear a newfound tension in his voice as he shifts in his seat.

“That’s what they told me to say,” my eyes are glued to the paper. If I look at Ghost or Price now, I’ll lose my concentration.

He sighs deeply, “I’ll need a few days little bird, those are some top dogs. But I’m going to get you out, don’t you worry.”

I sniffle as though this is too much. Like hearing his voice made me realize how much I miss him and now I might cry. “Love you,” my voice cracks.

“Love you too darling,” the line goes silent for just a moment. “I’ll be in touch,” with these words, his voice significantly deepens. He’ll be in touch. He has his ways of contacting me despite 141’s precautions. I should expect a shadowy visitor very soon.

Then he hangs up. I place the phone back on the mount. Horror creeps its way up my shoulders and I know I’m back in my own body.

“Well done,” Price congratulates me. He’s surprised I did so well. I don’t come off as the type of person to perform well under pressure – I normally don’t – yet the phone call was almost flawless.

“Thank you,” I attempt a small smile, but inside, I feel awful. Dirty. Blindsided. I can’t believe that is the same man I’ve known my entire life. Sinking betrayal anchors my bones to the depths of the Mariana Trench. The immense pressure makes my head feel as though it’s about to implode upon itself. But along with the shame I now carry because of our kinship, there’s also molten anger stirring within my core, threatening to erupt.

“Thank you, Sergeant, you’re dismissed,” Price turns to the man who recorded the call and waits for him to leave. Ghost hasn’t said a word almost this entire time. Yet he closely watches the man leave with his equipment as suspicious as ever. He doesn’t trust a soul. Especially now. “Within the next few days, your little friend will pay another visit. We’ve installed another camera outside your door and tapped the room. Tell him the truth, just like he asked, we don’t need to aggravate them further, but it is essential he doesn’t think you snitched again,” Price’s tone has turned serious. He understands the gravity of the situation.

The ultranationalist could decide to kill me if he thinks I snitched again. He would certainly order the execution of my friends back home. While Price doesn’t care about them, he needs me alive. They won’t have the opportunity to ambush the Ultranationalists without me alive for a supposed exchange.

“Any questions?” he asks. For once, I have none.

“No sir.”

“Right. Ghost, your request is approved. Take the afternoon to complete it. Return her to her quarters before 1800,” he nods once toward the lieutenant. And then we’re off.

I don’t know why, but I expected him to say something as we navigate the halls. However, like usual, Ghost is completely stoic.

When we first met, I was always silently instructed to walk in front of him. Ghost was suspicious of me. Despite being cleared by intel, part of him still considered the possibility that I could be an Ultranationalist. By walking behind me he eliminated any chance of a surprise attack. His analytical eyes would trail up and down my frame trying to decipher any hidden motives. He’d take note of the length of my stride. How I hold my head, my shoulders. How my hands fidgeted and I picked at my nails and then my cuticles once they were too short.

Something has changed since then. A lot has changed.

Now I walk beside him. Close, but not close enough that our arms brush. Not close enough to attract suspicion. He no longer glares at me like I could turn on him at any moment. There’s so much more depth to his eyes when they steal small glances my way. Sometimes – like now as we walk along the sparsely populated halls - I feel him step closer so we’re almost touching, the heat of each other’s body is just noticeable, before he reminds himself that someone could come across us at any moment. Then, after a brief moment of indulgence, he once again shifts away to a more professional distance. I sense the same kind of longing pulses through his veins as mine.

My thoughts are interrupted as we continue to walk past my room.

“Aren’t you dropping me off?” the confusion is evident in my voice as my pace slows. Ghost turns to look at me while keeping his pace.

“No. We’re training,” he says. Training? Is this the request Price mentioned earlier? What kind of training is he referring to? What is Ghost planning?

“We are?”

“Affirmative,” he confirms. His long legs are hard to keep up to as they stride with purpose.

“What kind of training?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” Ghost says. And if I’m not mistaken, I almost detect a hint of teasing in his voice.

Yet, Ghost doesn’t take me to a gym or shooting range, instead, he leads me right back to his quarters.

“Is this a joke?” suspicion is evident in my voice. I hesitate as he waits for me to enter first.

“Negative,” the curt response is typical. He isn’t about to volunteer any additional information.

“What could we possibly train for in your room?” my mind involuntarily wanders to a variety of things, but none that will help with the exchange. As I make eye contact with him, my cheeks flush almost immediately. Ghost’s gaze is strong and unwavering. He knows exactly where my thoughts have drifted.

“I’ll show you,” he motions to the door. A small ball of nervous energy forms in my lower stomach. The type that has no place being here right now. The type that’ll get me into trouble. “First, I want to know your thoughts on the phone call?”

“I don’t want to think about the phone call,” I say as I leave him behind in the hall. Once inside, he takes his vest off and hangs it on the back of the door. Facing away from me, he slips off the skull mask and quickly replaces it with a plain black balaclava. My whole body freezes at the sight. I can’t believe he just took it off in front of me. His hair is darker than I thought it’d be. The strands are a stark contrast against his fair eyelashes. He wears it clean cut like most men in the military, short on the sides and more forgiving on top. But it’s overall longer than I imagined. My mind drifts to what it would feel like to run my fingers through the delicate strands. To gently trace my nails along his scalp. To roughly grasp him by the hair as he–

“It’s not often Price congratulates someone on their performance,” Ghost’s head tilts as he gauges my response. I don’t speak, my mind still stuck on the fact he took his mask off in front of me, even if I couldn’t see his face. “You were almost as good there as you were during the interrogations,” he continues. Heat creeps up my neck. I don’t know if it’s a feeling of flattery or embarrassment.

“I’m not good at it. It feels like I’m not even there,” like the actions aren’t even my own. It’s a dangerous feeling. How far can a person go when they don’t feel responsible for their actions? How far could I go?

“But you know you are?” his tone becomes mildly concerned. Does he think I’m slipping from reality?

“I know I am. It’s just easier to separate myself from what I’m doing,” I think out loud, my voice slowly fading toward the end of my sentence. Maybe it’s my brain’s way of protecting myself?

“Y/n, if it’s too much let me know,” Ghost says seriously as a gloved hand reaches out and touches my chin. It has been too much since the moment they kidnapped me. But now all I can do now is figure out how to survive until the exchange is over. “For this too.”

The second half of his sentence catches my attention.

“And what is ‘this?’” what does he keep alluding to?

Ghost’s delicate hand on my chin leaves as he reaches for something strapped to his belt. The gloved hand unsheathes a steel knife. He flips it around and offers the handle to me. I hesitantly take it from him, all the while closely watching his eyes. There’s a glint to them. Something troublesome. At this point, his intentions could be anything.

“What’s your safe word?” his husky voice is suddenly a lot lower as he takes a step backward and squares his shoulders. There’s an ambiguous spark in his eyes. One that’s about to catch fire. I can almost smell the damp, smouldering smoke in the air.

“Safe word?” my breath catches in my throat and I try to force a swallow. I choke back a nervous laugh.  He’s joking, right? The knife feels unnatural in my hand.

“Think of one, sweetheart,” he rasps. There’s that damn name again. The one that makes it so fucking hard to think. My mind snags on it like a loose thread to a nail, pulling every thought out of order. Only he can mend me.

“Um, I don’t – Soap, I guess?” his call sign comes to mind first.

“Not Soap. Something different,” his head juts to the side with disapproval.

“Okay. Fine. Pizza then,” I’m still confused as to why he wants me to have a safe word.

“Pizza,” Ghost repeats to himself, burning it to memory. He takes another step back and I almost feel myself relaxing. My shoulders don’t feel so tense. The knife is no longer so heavy. I glance down at the mean little thing in my hand. I wonder how many people have died by this blade?

Ghost doesn’t wait for my eyes to return to his. From the edge of my peripheral, something large lunges at me. He’s incredibly fast. Just a flash of movement in the dim light. Fear hasn’t had the chance to take over yet. Instinct kicks in and I jump back out of the way, just narrowly escaping his first attempt at grabbing me. But there’s nowhere to go. The room is small and he’s closer to the door than I am. He wants me to fight. He’s forcing me to.

“The fuck are you doing?” I angrily spit at him as I corner myself between the dresser and wall, knife still in hand.

Ghost looks as terrifying as ever as he shifts to face me once more. His intimidating frame takes up the entire walkway between the bed and dresser. Those thick shoulders heave along with his chest as his breathing deepens. His gloved hands stay open at his sides, eager to grab at me again. Ghost’s sharp eyes look darker than before. He is completely locked in on me.

There is no escaping what comes next.

Pt 19: