#but i can barely get to sleep at all these days and just bed ridding myself

[skyeateyourdonuts]

weeoo

[eufezco]

BUCKY'S SECOND FIRST TIME

bucky x fem!reader (smut with plot) no use of y/n

All of this... Bucky hadn't had time to think about when it would happen again, he didn't even think it would ever happen again. He didn't even think deserve to have that kind of intimacy with anyone, didn't think that anyone would want to be in that situation with him.

It's been decades and now his head was full of bizarre thoughts. He had nightmares every time he tried to get some sleep, so the idea of spending the night with somebody was completely out of the table. He was witnessing a complete stranger take over his friend's shield and identity. He had not crossed a name off his list of amends for weeks, he had not answered any of Sam's messages and his psychologist was putting more and more pressure on him.

But in all that chaos there was you who always showed him a kind smile, who always asked him how his day was when you saw him come into the bar, exhausted. You who had his favorite drink ready before he arrived and who looked at him with hearty eyes. You thought you were being too obvious but it had been so long since anyone had looked at him that way that he didn't even notice it.

The day he took Sam to your bar was when he realized, and not even on his own. You were thrilled that he finally introduced you to one of his friends (his only friend in fact) and Sam was so funny and he was always picking on Bucky which made their dynamic even more fun to watch. They arrived almost at closing time so it was just the three of you. That night you ended up closing two hours later, inviting them for a few beers and being walked home by the two of them since it was already very late at night.

—Dude, she's so into you —. Sam huffed a laugh while they walked back from your house.

Bucky arched his eyebrows in surprise and then frowned. —What?

—Oh come on, you gonna tell me you haven't noticed?

Bucky was getting more and more confused. —Noticed what?

Sam stopped on his feet and looked at Bucky in surprise. —Steve told me you used to be a heartthrob back in the day.

—Yeah, back in the day. When I was seventy years younger.

Sam rolled his eyes. —Two things. First, as much as I hate to admit it, you don't look a hundred and seven, and second, I can assure you that this girl is head over heels for you. —Bucky was silent, thinking, so Sam spoke again. —Ask her on a date.

So yes, he asked you out on a date. Well, if inviting you to his house for a drink could be considered a date. He didn't like to be seen in public places too much and fancy restaurants didn't go with him, so while he thought of something better for the second date, his house would work for this time. Bucky shook his head as he found himself thinking about a second date.

Bucky always tried to keep everything tidy, clutter annoyed him and made him even grumpier. But now as he let you walk into his house first he realized how empty it was. He barely had any furniture, only one chair, a small sofa, and a TV. He hadn't even bothered to buy a bed because he slept on the floor. He wondered what was going through your head when you saw his home.

—This is nice —. You stated. At first, you didn't realize how empty his apartment was, you were just appreciating that he had trusted you enough to take you to a place as private and intimate as his home. Then you did notice that some things were missing but you assumed that's all he needed.

Bucky was relieved when he heard those three words come out of your mouth.

You noticed how he kept his jacket and gloves on while he took out two glasses to pour you a drink. Whenever he came home the first thing he did was to take those two things off but with you there, it was different yet when he thought about it, he realized that it was fair that you knew and ran away if you wanted to. So when he caught you looking curious, he first got rid of his gloves, and you could already see the metallic fingers of his hand. Then he took off his jacket, revealing how the metal shaped his left arm.

—You're not going to ask about it? —Bucky thought he was getting ahead of you, saving you from the awkward moment of asking about what happened to him. He poured some liquor in the glasses.

—Do you want to be asked about it?

Bucky looked at you and shook his head. You nodded, understanding his decission. You figured he wouldn't want to talk about it, much less on a first date. Your question caught him off guard yet his answer came almost automatically. He didn't want to talk about it and it was the first time he had been given the option of not doing so.

The rest of the night went great. Bucky was very interested in everything you said. He didn't talk much yet you managed to get some information about him. He had a sister, his favorite fruit was plums, he enjoyed 40s music, and he was a cat person. Every time he told you something about himself, no matter how irrelevant it seemed, you found it fascinating.

You noticed that he was very observant, his icy blue eyes never stopped looking at you for a second. You found it cute, intimidating at times not knowing what thoughts went with those long, intense stares. His eyes were beautiful, captivating, so you could tell every time he broke eye contact to divert his gaze to your lips and then back to your eyes.

Each was on one side of his kitchen island, that way you could look at each other's faces while talking. You were leaning more and more on the table that separated you, taking advantage of the moments of laughter to get closer to each other until that way you kissed him.

At first, you felt him a little stiff even though the sigh that he had let out when you had finally kissed his lips told you otherwise. You parted ways. —Is this okay?

Bucky nodded and immediately after, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours again. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone that he didn't know if his lip movements were being too clumsy, if the clash of his teeth with yours was bothering you, or if his tongue slipping past your lips was okay. He did not know how to control his breathing that's why he let out little moans against your mouth, trying to catch his breath without having to leave your lips.

He felt like a teenager again. The tingling sensation in his lower abdomen made him want to run away and hide but at the same time did not want to part from your lips for anything in the world. He was afraid of the way you made him feel but at the same time he didn't want that feeling to ever go away.

Didn't know how or when but he ended up sitting on his couch with you on his lap. Your lips and his had come into perfect synchrony and the kiss was getting deeper and wetter. Oh God and he wasn't gonna complain. Your hands were pulling from the root of his hair, your hips rolled subtly against his crotch, his right hand was resting on your hips. Bucky felt how his jeans tightened right where you were sitting.

Bucky tried to keep his left arm away from you, holding your body on top of his just using his right one. He was aware that the touch of the metal was not the most pleasant in the world. It wasn't soft, it wasn't warm, it was nothing like a flesh-and-blood hand.

—It's okay. You can touch me, James —. You moaned against his mouth. Yet he was still a bit reluctant to do so.

In the end, you would have to be the one to gently grab his metal arm and guide his hand to your waist. You kept your hand on top of his metal one while pressing down so he could hold you as tight as he was doing with his other hand, also to assure him that it was okay. You moved your hand from him once you felt his metallic fingers carefully close and grip your body. You smiled in the middle of the kiss, the firm grip of both of his hands encouraged you to grind harder against his crotch.

You pulled his t-shirt over his head and allowed your fingers to travel down his abs until you reached the button and zipper on his jeans. Bucky hissed at the sudden contact and held your hips tighter.

—Wait —. Bucky said against your lips. He pulled away and you were afraid that you had done something wrong. All you had to do was pull down the zipper, but your hands immediately stopped what they were doing when he spoke. You ran your tongue over your lower lip, already missing Bucky's, and you noticed how pink and swollen his were. —It's been a long time since I —. He confessed.

—Oh. —You said in a sigh. —We can't stop if you—

—No. I just— I just wanted you to know. —Bucky groaned. —I'm sorry. I've ruined it. —He let his head fall on your shoulder.

You giggled and you brought your hands to his cheeks so that he would raise his head and look at you. —It's okay, James. You've not ruined anything. I'm glad you've told me. —You gave a quick peck to his lips. —I was just saying that if you want to stop or need to slow down I'm okay with that.

—I don't want to stop.

—Good. Me neither.

And Bucky crashed his lips against yours again. You finished what you started and unzipped his jeans while he pulled from the hem of your shirt and threw it away. Bucky cursed and brought his mouth to the skin of your breasts, using his lips to suck and kiss on it and his teeth for small bites. You moaned and pulled harder from his hair, making him groan. His hands wasted no time and right after they were unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans while his mouth left a trail of kisses from your boobs to your neck and collarbone until he reached your mouth again.

Your lifted your hips from his lap so your hand could sneak inside his underwear. Bucky did the same with your panties. Your fingers wrapped around his hard dick and Bucky's found their way to your clit. You moaned and closed your eyes shut when he started rubbing your bundle of nerves and Bucky's lips parted and let out all the air that he had in his lungs when your hand moved painfully slow from the tip of his cock to the base of it.

You pressed your foreheads together. Your thighs closed around his hand but he continued drawing circles on your clit and his mouth reached for your lips again. Bucky's hips thrust into your fist while some of his moans died in your mouth. He felt a wave of heat running through his body and that sweet knot formed in his lower belly.

—I need you inside, please —You whined.

You didn't have to beg anymore. You moved from his lap so you both could get rid of your jeans and underwear. You straddled him again, using your hands on his shoulders for stability when your fingers brushed the scarred skin that connected with the metal of his arm.

You noticed the worried expression on his face. He was looking at you with his eyebrows raised as if he was waiting for a reaction from you. A reaction of disgust. He could feel his chest rise and fall slowly because of his deep breathing and he was wondering what was going on in your head at the time.

You pressed your lips against his one more time, your hands moved to cup both of his cheeks. —It's okay. Just focus on me —. You mumbled into his mouth and he hummed in response.

Without stopping kissing him, your hands began to travel down. First his neck, then his broad shoulders, feeling again those scars he was so insecure about, and then his arms. His right one was strong, with perfectly defined muscles and the softest skin. His left one was cold and hard, not at all unpleasant to the touch. Your lips moving on his kept Bucky from overthinking.

He gasped when you reached his well-defined abdomen. You would have spent the whole night caressing and feeling his body under your fingertips but you were getting impatient. Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock to line it up at your entrance and gently lowered yourself. Bucky's mouth opened in a perfect "O" form as he gripped your waist tightly. You had to wait a few seconds to get used to the sensation before you started moving, he needed those seconds as well to get used to your tight walls squeezing him.

You started by rolling your hips against his, it was the best way to adjust to his size. Despite how wet you were you could feel that sweet sting caused by his width. You rested your forehead against his, you both were panting when you began to lift your hips and drop them back onto his cock. The sounds that came out of his mouth were music to your ears, the grunts coming directly from his chest made you vibrate.

You hugged him to feel him even closer. Bucky tried to hold on as hard as he could, he kissed your shoulder and softly sank his teeth into your skin there, getting a whine from you, but it was too much. Every time he felt his dick going fully inside you, the knot on his stomach became tighter, every time he heard you moaning his name in his ear he did his best to last a little bit longer but in the end, he found it impossible.

Bucky emptied himself inside you while he dropped his forehead on your shoulder and apologized for coming so quickly. —Don't worry. We have all night —. You played with the hair on the back of his head and allowed him to come back from his high.

And you spent the whole night until you heard the birds chirping. The stamina he had thanks to the super soldier serum was truly something else and he made it up to you until you felt completely disconnected from your own body and Bucky had to snuggle you next to him on the couch to let you sleep.

Bucky didn't sleep that night. He was afraid that if he did, he'd hurt you or scare you with his nightmares so he stayed awake all night, but he didn't mind either. He had his right arm around you and he held you against his body, your head was on his chest as well as one of your hands. He felt the warmth of your naked body against his under the blanket.

[stars4ani]

i love ur blog ur writing is so good!!!! 🎀

Could you write for rafe x sub!reader who wakes up in the middle of the night crying for rafe bc she’s horny sjjskaks

thank u ur the sweetest ugh 🤍 and godddd anon this did something to me… i hope i did it justice

nsfw 18+

tw dacryphilia

maybe it was the weather, maybe everything was just too much, but today had gone so painfully slow. on top of that, rafe wasn’t home, out golfing with his friends all day. it was late and you decided to just sleep it off, but all you could do was toss and turn.

you awaken to the door opening, it’s still awfully dark out but you force yourself out of bed to greet your boyfriend.

rafe’s cologne intoxicates all of your senses as you hold him and take in his scent, the lump in your throat getting heavier. tears fall down your cheeks as you leave chaste kisses on his forehead.

“missed you so much, it’s so late now” you whisper, voice breaking.

he’s slightly taken aback by this, but he knows you’re emotional so it’s nothing he’s not used to by now.

“shit baby, was just a few hours…” he chuckles, raising an eyebrow as he takes in the way your nightgown rides up and hangs low at the neckline. “what’s wrong, you need somethin’?” his tone becoming more playful as he becomes aware of what’s really going on.

your lip quivers as you look up at him, pouting as he wipes your tears. “jus’ want you” you whine, barely audibly.

“cryin’ cause you’re horny? god, didn’t think it was that bad” he mocks in disbelief, large hands resting on your hips as he backs you up towards the bed, lightly pushing you down.

the feel of his slightly chapped lips against your warm plush ones sends butterflies straight to your core. you struggle to remove his pants as you claw at the zipper, amusing him even further.

“slow down, m’not goin anywhere baby” he smirks as he swats your hand away, getting rid of his own pants, followed by your thin nightgown.

you’re barely on all fours, your upper body immobile as rafe pushes himself into you, tight walls pulling him impossibly deeper. his large hand rests on your back, pushing you down and keeping you still. regardless, you find it hard to keep still because he’s just so big, tip abusing your poor cervix, causing you to cry out. you’re suddenly on your back, strong arms using your shoulders as leverage as he looks down at you, his coarse thumb wipes a tear off of your flushed cheek.

“wanted it real bad didn’t you?” he says, tone dripping with faux sympathy

you’re too fucked out to respond.. he pulls you up slightly by the neck, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

“didn’t you?” he repeats, his thrusts becoming sloppier

“yes- fuck rafe- yes, you’re the only one that can make me feel good” your voice trembling as you tell him exactly what he wants to hear

“good, keep talking, wanna hear your voice”

[werecreature-addicted]

i love the idea of a werewolf best friend who is totally in love with you and keeps trying to court you but since you're human you're just thinking he's being thoughtful or something

but he busts every night to the thought of you crying into the pillow, his heavy body pressing onto you and pushing you to the mattress, as he fucks his fat cock into you, trying to knot you and knock you up

want so badly to mark you as his that when he even gets a glimpse of your neck/shoulders he salivates and gets hard

werewolf courting is a subtle thing- really it's more about keeping others away from you than winning you over. you don't see all the sharp glares he sends to other people. or the way he snaps at his other friends for mentioning how cute you look.

he's sweet to you. he gives you bites off his plate. and almost always brings you a drink or snack when you hang out together. he'd be leaving kills on your doorstep but apparently it "freaks out the neighbors" and "you don't know what to do with a whole deer carcass" or whatever. humans are so hard to please. those silly little candies you like can't be very filling but he can't shake the urge to feed you. so he does.

He's also very protective. he always walks/ drives you home at the end of the night. he'll be by your side in an instant if you call for him and god help any idiot who tries to fuck with you.

Also, his home is always open to you. if you ever want to come over randomly or borrow something- what's his is yours. you don't realize how territorial he is with everyone else because he's always so generous and giving with you. especially with clothes!! if you want a sweatshirt or a pair of shorts, they're yours. he loves little things like that to make you smell like him.

To any other werewolf, any one of these things would be a clear indication of romantic interest. I mean- the guy lets you eat off his plate! do you have any idea how territorial wolves are with food? No! Of course, you don't you're human. all of it feels normal to you. there might be other things that you take for flirting that he's doing on accident. but really you think of him as a really good friend.

it's hell on your werewolf. He doesn't know what he's doing wrong. he's a perfect mate for you, but you never seem to acknowledge his flirting as something romantic. he hates it when you stretch your head to the side, baring your neck to him, it's like you're begging to be marked. and by "hates" I do mean it gets his mind spinning. it's like you have no idea how hard it is not to bite you sometimes.

He can't help himself. he will keep going until you accept him because he knows that you're the one for him. so he walks you home for the night then goes back to his place, alone, and lays in bed thinking about you.

at first, it's nothing dirty. he's just wondering what the two of you will do when you hang out next, then he's wondering what you're doing right now. did you take a shower? did you go straight to bed? what do you sleep in when you're all alone? what if you sleep in just your underwear- or naked.

he's hard. he always is when he lets himself think about you too much. he can't help it. so he starts touching himself while he lets his mind wander.

it would feel good to bite your neck. it would feel better to bite the soft sensitive skin of your inner thigh. he wants to mark you while he fucks you. he wants to own you inside and out. he knows you'd take his cock well. it's big but you don't mind, right? you'd like a little pain with your pleasure.

he thinks about all the different positions he could put you in. he thinks about you ridding his cock, about flipping you over and pinning your knees to your chest so he can see your face as he ruins you.

he cums all over himself imagining you screaming- begging him to knot you. he can only hope one day his little fantasy will become a reality.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[1:11 am]

Husband!Jaemin was certain he was going to love you until his dying breath. He loved you so much that being away from you for longer than a minute, and he meant it. There was a physical ache in his chest when you were both apart, or arguing, or mad at each other.

You were actually arguing now, and he should have felt that ache, but he didn't. If this were a cartoon, his pupils would be in the shape of hearts and he'd be kicking his feet back and forth.

"Do you realize how gross it is to go to the bathroom and fall into the toilet water?!" You exclaimed, running a hand over your sleep-mussed hair.

Yeah, oops. Jaemin had an unfortunate habit of leaving the toilet seat up. He was good about remembering to lower the seat after he finished his business, but could you really blame him when it was the middle of the night? He was tired, he'd reverted to his old, single guy habits and he went right back to sleep with you in his arms.

You continued to rant, your voice raising and you recounted how you'd already tripped over one of his haphazardly thrown shoes on the way to the bathroom. You told him that you didn't even want to get out of bed until the urge became too much and how you were in the middle some of the best sleep you'd had all week and the cold water on your bare backside was a horrible wake up call. "And honestly, it would have been fine if it were the daytime, but I was sleeping so well. Now, I just feel dirty and cold," you sighed, crossing your arms across your chest.

Jaemin nodded, "you're right, honey."

"You're not going to apologize?" You ask in a calm voice.

Jaemin pouted empathetically, reaching a hand out to pull you back under the covers and press his forehead to your own, "Love, I am so sorry. I will regret this misstep until the day I die and work every day to make up for it. Can you find it in that big, beautiful heart of yours to forgive me?"

You snorted, shoving his shoulder lightly, "you're forgiven. I just need to go shower to get rid of this icky feeling. I want my spot warm when I get back."

He heard the water in the shower turn on as he fluffed up your pillows. He fell back against his own pillows with a sigh, he knew better than to leave the toilet seat up. It was a bad habit that you'd kindly spent many months reminding him to keep in mind. He just hated that it had ruined your sleep. You'd been tossing and turning, waking up early, and going to bed late all week except for tonight. He really did feel bad.

You reentered the room in a new pair of pajamas, smelling fresh and still looking sleepy. Jaemin held a hand out for you and clicked off the bedside lamp while you got comfortable against him once again.

Jaemin rubs your back slowly, his voice quiet and low "I'm so sorry I forgot about the toilet seat, honey. I know how poorly you've been sleeping."

"I'm not upset anymore Jaemin, I promise. I know you were probably really tired too, just try to remember, alright?" You ask while nuzzling against his chest "I'm sorry I raised my voice. I shouldn't have but I was feeling really upset."

Jaemin hums in acknowledgement, nothing the way your speech is slowing with fatigue, "I like when you yell at me."

You laugh in surprise, "w-what?!"

He keeps you in a calm state, continuing to lull you to sleep with the slow circular patterns against your back. He responds quietly, "well, no. I like your complaints and our mundane arguments. It reminds me that we don't have bigger problems to be fighting about. We have a good life together, we're lucky. I love the reminder that I'm not some stupid, single guy living alone now. I'm a husband, I'm your husband and this is our home. I love it."

"You’re such a sap at 1 in the morning," you whisper, your words slurred from sleep, "I love you though."

Jaemin feels his eyes getting heavy and can't fight the smile when he hears your breathing even out. You're fast asleep again and his heart soars, "I love you more, honey."

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ take a seat ] q. hughes

day 3 of kinktober (face sitting w/ quinn hughes)

paring : Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

summary: Quinn grows a playoff beard and his girlfriend loves it. the day he decides to shave it after the Canucks get eliminated, she tells him how she really feels about it and Quinn gives her the moment she’s been wanting since he started growing it before he shaves it

warning(s) : smut ! face sitting / riding, oral (f receiving), fingering

author’s note : been waiting to write this one hehe. it’s on the shorter side but i hope y'all enjoy anyway

kinktober schedule

༺──────────────༻

The playoffs have treated her and Quinn so well. Quinn because he got to captain the Canucks to the second round after a short 3 year playoff drought. Her because Quinn grew a playoff beard over the past month or so and she's barely managed to keep her hands off of him while he was playing.

She loves everything about the playoffs, but especially the fact that Quinn hasn’t shaved in a few weeks. He looks so good with longer facial hair and she loves the way it tickles her lip when he kisses her. She kinda just wants him to go down on her for as long as possible to feel it against her core.

The thought of Quinn eating her out with the beard is enough to soak her. The feeling of his beard on her core is something she thinks about an unhealthy number of times over the course of three weeks. She’s gotten off multiple times just at the thought alone, especially when he's away playing in Nashville and Edmonton. She’s wouldn’t know what to do if it happened.

But the Canucks were eliminated by Edmonton last night so it’s time for Quinn to shave off the beard he has spent the past few weeks growing. He doesn't do it the day after their season ends because he wants to just lay around and have the laziest day ever, so she gets an extra day to admire him.

The morning of the day Quinn wants to shave his beard though, she wakes up before he does. He stopped setting alarms once the Canucks got eliminated two nights ago but she is naturally an early riser. She doesn't dare move because part of Quinn's morning routine is shaving. If she moves and wakes him up, he's going to go shave and that's the last thing she wants right now.

She softly sighs as morning Vancouver sun creates a muted orange glow throughout the room. Quinn already looks so good and he's not even awake yet.

All because of that stupid beard he grew.

Quinn begins to stir moments after she wakes. His eyes flutter open and look bright in the morning sunlight.

"It's creepy to stare at people while they sleep, baby," he tells her, his voice slurred since he just woke up. Also kind of raspy, which she loves.

"Not my fault you look pretty all the time," she replies. "I also just woke up a few minutes ago so give me a break. I wanted to admire my boyfriend before he woke up and started making comments that ruined the whole vibe."

He groans and rubs his face. He touches his facial hair and hums. "I gotta go get rid of this mess," he says. "Then you can admire me all you want, okay?"

Her eyes widen and Quinn begins to move to get out of bed. She quickly grabs his arm to stop him from getting any further.

"I like that mess," she finally admits to him. He turns back around and looks at her. She begins to talk before her brain can catch up to what she's saying. "I mean, you look really hot with that mess on your face. Except, I don't think it's a mess. I wish you wouldn't run off and shave it first chance you get."

Quinn blinks at her slowly like he's processing what she said to him. A smile grows on his lips and she presses her lips into a line.

"Come here," Quinn tells her as he lays back down. She blinks at him, confused. "I know you've thought about it. I've seen the way that you would look at me then excuse yourself to go use the bathroom." She feels her face get hot in embarrassment. She thought she was more subtle than she actually was.

She plays with her fingers while she watches Quinn get comfortable. "Quinn, I-"

"Come take a seat, pretty girl," he interrupts as he runs his fingers over his beard. "Sit on and ride my face. I know you want to so I am giving you what you want before I go shave."

Who is she to say no to him? He's offering so she might as well take it.

Without anymore hesitation, she moves so she's kneeling above his face with her knees on the pillow on either side of his head. Lucky for her, she's only wearing one of Quinn's Canucks t-shirts and a pair of underwear. Nothing else.

Quinn kisses the inside of her thigh right by her core while he pushes the fabric of the t-shirt up. She hums softly as her body finally begins to wake up. She feels the gentle scratch of his facial hair on her skin and she gnaws on her bottom lip. "Oh my God," she sighs.

"I haven't even done anything yet," Quinn laughs.

"Shut up and do something then," she retorts. "Please, Quinn." She's not above begging at this point.

He licks a stripe over her panties, which are soaked by now. Like she said, the thought alone makes her drip. His finger follows his tongue and she hums. Quinn pushes the fabric to the side and runs a finger through her soaked folds. She bites down on her bottom lip to keep from making any loud noises since it is morning and their neighbors are probably still sleeping.

She grabs onto the headboard above Quinn's head as he runs his tongue through her folds. "Fuck, Quinn!" She cries out. "Oh my God."

The feeling of the gentle scratch of his facial hair is almost too much for her. Quinn wraps his lips around her clit and hums, sending a shock through her body. It almost jumpstarts her own movements as she begins to roll her hips.

"That's it, baby," Quinn says against her core. "Take what you want."

His hands rest on her waist and he pulls her down so she's completely sitting on his face but he's still able to breathe. His tongue continues to run through her folds as she rolls her hips. Her core grinds across his face and she feels the scratch of his facial hair with each movement. She welcomes the new feeling. It only adds to her pleasure despite the beard burn she'll probably have when all this is over.

Quinn hums every so often, and she groans with every hum. Her grip on the headboard gets stronger the longer she moves. She's almost afraid that she'll lose her balance despite his hands keeping her from falling.

One of his hands slides up under the loose t-shirt and cups her breast. She throws her head back and lets out a borderline pornographic moan as she continues to ride Quinn's face. One of her hands flies to Quinn's messy hair, fingers finding a home.

He slides his other hand so his thumb can access her clit. He rubs the sensitive nub while continuing to run his tongue though her folds with each movement. "Oh my fucking- Quinn," she cries out. "Holy-"

"Look so pretty riding my face, pretty girl," Quinn mumbles. His words shoot straight to her core. "Fuck."

His thumb moves and slides into her. She gasps and her movement falters for a second while she recovers from the addition. "Quinn," she groans, holding the 'N' sound.

Between his tongue, his thumb, and his facial hair, she's not sure how she hasn't come all over his face by now. Her legs are shaking so she has to stop moving, but Quinn completely takes over despite being under her.

He speeds up his thumb for a second before switching fingers, using his pointer and middle fingers instead. She welcomes the familiar stretch.

His fingers and tongue are enough to bring her to the edge. She's white-knuckling the headboard with one hand while her other hand remains in Quinn's hair.

"Gonna come," she pants. "Quinn. I'm close."

"Told you to take what you want," Quinn replies. "So take what you want."

Quinn speeds up his fingers and curls them in a 'come here' motion. The gentle scratch of his facial hair turns less gentle as he speeds up his tongue movements, but she still loves it.

She throws her head back and cries out his name as she comes. She involuntarily rolls her own hips so her core grinds against his face again. Her fingers curl in his locks so she has something to hold on to as she reaches her climax. She loses her vision for half a second because of how hard her orgasm hits her.

Her body turns to jelly as she recovers. With Quinn's help, she's able to lie back down beside him. Her breathing is labored and she stares up at the ceiling, unable to move to look at her boyfriend.

All this morning showed her is that Quinn needs to grow out his facial hair more often because it made her come harder than she ever has before. She can't move for about ten minutes after her orgasm.

When she's fully conscious again, she looks over at Quinn. He didn't go and shave yet.

"I think I'm going to keep this for another day or two," he tells her. "Just for you. That is going to happen a few more times before it goes away."

She smiles and rolls so she can touch his face. "I'm going to need you to grow it out like this again soon because holy shit, Quinn," she giggles. "So hot. Felt so good."

Quinn matches her smile. "Maybe over the summer," he tells her. "No promises though."

"Gonna need my favorite seat back at some point."

"Next year when we make playoffs against for sure."

༺──────────────༻

MAIN MASTERLIST

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[slut4monsterz]

Yan!wolfdog hcs ᰔ

yan!wolfdog that practically towers over you, a big burly guy with a thick coat of black fur and huge fluffy ears.

yan!wolfdog that you picked up from your local shelter life was getting kinda boring so why not foster a hybrid?

The shelter informs you that yan!wolfdog probably wouldn't be the best choice. Something about not liking men and having aggression problems...but if you didn't take him who would? The thought of leaving him there all alone made you a bit sad, so even with the staff trying their best to advise you to pick one of the softer, smaller hybrid you walked out with him in hopes of finding him a forever home.

yan!wolfdog who has no intention of ever leaving you once he sets his eyes on you. he decides that day that you're his and he's yours. no human has ever been this nice to him before :(( he basically struts into your house like he owns the place and makes himself comfortable.

yan!wolfdog that refuses to sleep in the very expensive bed you bought him. he just likes yours better. the first few nights you let it slide..but then it becomes a problem. he basically takes up the whole bed!! so you start locking your door at night, he does not like that one bit. he scratches, barks, and whines at the door all night. for days. has a smug little look on his face when you finally give up and open the door, now contemplating buying a bigger bed.

yan!wolfdog that doesn't believe in personal space. he will he snuggled up to you 24/7, def makes you late for work all the time bc he likes to just flop on top of you and refuse to get up

yan!wolfdog that you tried to get used to men, but he absolutely hated it. every time you brought another man over he would bare his teeth and bark like a madman, but then they would leave, and his demeanor would completely flip and he'd be your sweet boy again.

yan!wolfdog that loves going for walks w you = scary dog privileges. people usually avoid you at all costs when you're out in public with him especially because you don't leash him (more like he refuses to wear one and you don't have enough strength to wrestle it on him)

yan!wolfdog who's just the biggest sweetheart ever!! how can you ever get rid of him now?

this turned out to b more fluffy then i wanted might write smth else later :3

[girlgenius1111]

nerves

sol's masterlist ☀️ 2nd grade shouldn't be as scary as it felt, but sol was quite used to things feeling scarier than they seemed to feel to other people. even if her parents weren't worried for her growing anxiety, though, ingrid was. [sol is 8 in this, and ingrid is 16] warnings: descriptions of anxiety + symptoms of anxiety.

------

Your chest felt tight, tears falling quickly down your face as you sobbed into your pillow. Fear was gripping you, making it so that you couldn’t breathe right. It wasn’t a new feeling, it was one you’d experienced before, though you couldn’t quite put a name to it. You felt sick, sicker when you remembered what the following day was. You’d only been able to get a few hours of sleep before the feeling woke you up, and soon after, you were trembling in your bed, clutching tightly to Snø. 

The feeling was becoming overwhelming, and you were suddenly worried you were going to throw up or stop breathing or something. It was this terrifying thought that had you pushing the covers back, and creeping out of your room. You went down the hall, passed your parents room as quietly as you could, before you pushed Ingrid’s door open. 

“Ing?” You whispered, the low volume of your voice not disguising how shaky it was. The light clicked on, and your sister sat up in her bed, hair all messy. She blinked at you groggily, and you took a tentative step closer. “Ca-can I sleep in here?” 

Your sister seemed to wake more, concern replacing the sleepy expression on her face. “Of course you can.” 

She’d barely gotten the words out before you were scrambling forward onto her bed with her. Ingrid’s arms were already open, and you curled into her, allowing her long arms to wrap around you. This was where you undoubtedly felt safest, and it wasn’t surprising when the bad feeling dulled, just a bit. 

“Solstråle, you’re shaking.” Ingrid murmured, frowning at the quiet whimper you gave in response. “What’s wrong, huh?” She wondered, tucking your head under her chin and rubbing your back. 

You were sniffled, hiding your face in her neck and gripping her shirt in your fist as you snuggled even closer. “‘M Scared.” 

“What are you scared of?” 

Only here, in the dark and curled up against your favorite person, could you admit what was really terrifying you. “Don’t wanna go to school.” 

“School is scaring you?” Ingrid wondered, not knowing you to have struggled with this in the past. 

You nodded, the steady thumping of your sister’s heartbeat in your ear grounding you. 

“Why?” 

A shrug, this time, with you only speaking when Ingrid tried to extract your face from its hiding spot. “Don’t know. Just scared.” 

You really didn’t know. No matter how much you tried to figure out why you were so terrified, nothing came to mind. There was no explanation. All you knew was that this feeling was sticking around, and you’d do just about anything to get rid of it. 

“Is someone at school bothering you?” Ingrid asked, her voice dropping to anger at the mere thought. 

“No.” You weren’t lying. Sure, the kids at school could be mean sometimes, but your biggest bully lived at home with you. You dealt with her every day, and the mean kids couldn’t hold a torch to your mother when she decided she’d had enough of you. The social aspect was a stressor, for sure, but it wasn’t the cause of the pit in your stomach. “It’s… it’s new. It’s different.” 

“It’s not new, not really!” Ingrid tried to rationalize. “It’s the same school, you’ve been there before. You know how everything works. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

“It’s still new. A new year and a new teacher and a new class and new people and… I don’t wanna go. I want to stay here. Please.” You looked up at your sister, eyes wide and watery, and her heart truly broke. She hated that you were so upset, and she hated that she didn’t have the power to tell you that you didn’t have to go. 

“School is important, Solstråle. You’ll be okay once you get there, I promise. It’s just the anticipation that’s causing you trouble.” Her voice was encouraging and kind, but you were merely puzzled, the word being unfamiliar to you. 

“What is anticipation?”

“It’s like the waiting before something happens. It’s always worse than whatever actually happens.” 

“What if it’s not better once I get there?” Ingrid was the person you trusted more than anyone in the world, but even she couldn’t put your nervousness to rest with just a few words. It was too intense for that to work. 

“You go to the nurse, and you tell them you don’t feel well, and they’ll call Mamma. She’ll come get you, and we can try again tomorrow.” Ingrid explained rationally, believing herself that you’d be completely fine once you got to school. 

“Mamma won’t come get me.” You murmured. At this point, Ingrid was used to the tension between you and your mother, and she knew that, likely, you were right. “She has a meeting with your manager. Pappa’s taking me in the morning because she’ll be gone all day, and then he’s going to work.” 

Your sister remembered now. She was supposed to pick you up after school, because no one else would be home. When her mother had told her, she’d been a bit sad; it was your first day of school, and neither of your parents seemed to care very much. 

“Then I’ll come get you.” Ingrid promised, making a mental note to cancel the plans she had with various friends, and the lunch date she was supposed to go on. If no one else would be there for you tomorrow, then she would make sure she was.

“Really?” You asked quietly, glancing up at her hopefully, and then looking away quickly, as if your hope would jinx it. 

“Promise. You promise me to try your best to go and stay, and if you don’t feel better by lunch, I’ll come get you.” 

Until lunch was a long time. A whole morning with the icky feeling in your stomach didn’t excite you, but Ingrid was already going out of her way to help, so the least you could do was accept her deal. “Okay. Promise.” 

“Good. Now it’s bedtime, okay?” 

“Kay.” You mumbled, closing your eyes tight to appease your sister, though your tight grip on her shirt didn’t relent. Ingrid turned the lamp back off and settled back under the covers, this time with you held close to her. She hoped that would be the end of it. When she woke the next morning, though, and you were already awake, staring at the ceiling with tears falling from your eyes, she knew it wouldn’t be. 

-------

Your hands were shaking as you brought the little spoon to your lips, and your tummy twisted at the thought of putting food into your mouth. You’d managed a couple mouthfuls of cereal, but suddenly, it felt like another would make you sick that instant. Putting the spoon down, you reached for your glass of water, only your hand was still shaking, and the glass slipped from it, shattering back down onto the table. You jumped, startled. The water quickly ran off the table and down onto your father’s lap, as he swore. You shut your eyes tightly, awaiting the inevitable yelling that was sure to follow. 

“Shit!” Your dad shouted, pushing his chair backwards and rising from his seat. His pants were soaked with water, and you knew he was wearing a new suit for an important meeting he had today. 

“Sorry!” You cried, grabbing a napkin and weakly trying to mop up some of the water. “Sorry, Pappa.” 

“Look what you’ve done!” He shouted, looking down to glare at you, only softening slightly when he saw your tears. 

“It wasn’t on purpose.” You mumbled, shrinking into yourself in your seat. If you’d felt sick before, you felt like you might just curl up into a ball and die now. 

“It doesn’t matter. You need to be more careful. Now I have to change, and you’re going to make both of us late.” Your father scolded, apparently oblivious intense distress. 

“What’s all the yelling for?” Ingrid wondered, walking past her father as he stormed upstairs to change. You were crying silently, cleaning up the water as best you could. You didn’t respond to Ingrid’s question, though your dad did stop and turn to address your sister. 

“Your sister is being clumsy, again. Can you take her to school, Ing? I have a meeting and I’ll be late if I take her.” 

“Yeah, I can.” Ingrid agreed easily, still looking between you both with uncertainty. 

“But… you’re supposed to walk me to my class and help me find my cubby. It’s my first day. Mamma said, you’re supposed to come with me.” You whimpered, your lower lip wobbling. 

“I don’t have time for this.” Your father sighed, turning around and walking out of the room without another word. 

“Pappa,” you called after him, really starting to panic now at the thought of having to manage everything all by yourself. Your Mamma had promised that Pappa would come with and help you get to class. It was the only thing that had stopped the absolute tantrum you’d thrown the day before when she told you she had to go to a meeting instead of taking you. You started to cry, for real now, bringing your hands to your face and instinctually trying to swallow your tears, to no avail. 

Within a few seconds, though, there were hands on yours, pulling them away from your face, and you opened your eyes to see Ingrid kneeled in front of you. Unlike your father, Ingrid was deeply concerned with the way you were acting. It seemed to her to be more than just the regular first day butterflies; you were properly panicking now. 

“Don’t want to go, Ingrid, I can’t do it by myself,” you sobbed, leaning forward until your sister wrapped her arms around you and pulled you into a nice, tight hug. 

“Shh, shh.” She soothed, running her fingers through your hair, noting that your father hadn’t even bothered to put it up into a ponytail like he was supposed to. “You won’t be alone, I’ll take you in. We’ll find your cubby, and meet your teacher, and everything will be fine, Solstråle.” 

Leaning back, you looked at your sister skeptically. “Really?” 

“Of course!” Ingrid said with a smile. She wiped a few tears from your cheeks, and straightened your shirt. Checking the clock, on the counter, she made an executive decision. “Let’s get your face rinsed off, and your hair braided, and then I’ll take you.” 

With your hand in hers, Ingrid brought you to the bathroom, and for the first time that morning, you thought that things might be okay. 

------

You walked into the school like you were heading for your own funeral, trudging along and dragging your feet next to your sister. Ingrid stuck by your side, though, as she’d promised to do, but the time for her to leave came all too soon. Seeing the tears welling in your eyes as the teacher called for everyone to say goodbye to their parents, she took your hand and led you over to the corner of the classroom. She knelt down in front of you, trying to seem relaxed and calm, hoping you could pick up on it. 

“I’m gonna go now, Solstråle, but remember our deal?” 

“I remember.” You mumbled, scrubbing your fist over your eye, desperate not to cry in front of your classmates. 

“Okay. Just try for me, yeah? Until lunch, and if you’re still feeling nervous, go to the nurse and have them call me.” You nodded dutifully, leaning forward for a hug. Ingrid gave you one, squeezing tight. “Just try your best for me. I know you can do it, yeah?” 

“Okay.” You didn’t think you could do it. In fact, you were almost sure you couldn’t, but disappointing your sister wasn’t an option, and surely she’d be disappointed if you didn’t hold up your end of the deal. 

“I love you. I’ll see you soon.” Ingrid said, kissing your forehead and giving your hand one last squeeze. 

“Love you too.” You watched your sister leave, feeling the lump in your throat grow as she headed out the door. You sat back down at your desk, fiddling with your pencil case instead of talking like your classmates were doing. 

Pausing in the door to look back at you, Ingrid had to force herself to continue to walk out of the room. You looked so small, sitting at your desk all by yourself. Too shy to talk to your classmates, having found yourself in a class with none of your friends this year. There was nothing Ingrid hated more than seeing you crying, and she’d have been lying if she said a few tears didn’t slip down her face on her walk back home. 

------

As it was, Ingrid hoped deeply that she wouldn’t get a call from the school. When she did, though, it wasn’t a call that she was expecting, aside from the fact that it was still hours until lunch time. 

 The nurse called your Mamma first. She didn’t answer, and then the nurse called your Pappa. He answered, quickly instructing the woman to call your Mamma again, and then Ingrid if she didn’t answer. He couldn’t come get you, he explained. He didn’t even ask to talk to you on the phone. Not even when he heard what happened. 

It was your worst nightmare come true. The horrible feeling had just grown and grown and grown. You just wanted to go home. That was all you kept thinking, repeating it over and over to yourself. 

Your teacher was going around the room, having each student introduce themselves and say a fun fact. You knew what to say. Your name, and then your fun fact, which was that your favorite color was green. Only, when the teacher called on you, and you opened your mouth, it wasn’t words that came out. 

Instead, you leaned over and threw up all over the ground. The class gasped around you, and a few of the boys began to laugh. You were mortified, sure you’d never been this embarrassed in your entire life. The teacher was trying to quiet the class back down, while walking over to you. Getting sick hadn’t made you feel better, either. You felt just as icky, and even more embarrassed. The assistant teacher led you out of the classroom, your gaze fixed intently on your feet as you were sure everyone was staring at you. 

You’d resigned yourself to silence once you arrived at the nurse’s office, only answering her questions with nods or shakes of your head. If you didn’t talk, you wouldn’t embarrass yourself further. All you could think about, as the nurse called your Mamma and talked to your Pappa, was that you hadn’t done as Ingrid asked, and waited until lunch to go to the nurse. You hoped she wouldn’t be too disappointed; you’d tried your best, it just hadn’t been good enough. 

Finally, your Mamma answered, telling the nurse that she couldn’t come get you either, but that your sister could. You breathed a sigh of relief at that, because you knew Ingrid would be the nicest of anyone, even if she was mad that you hadn't made it till lunch. 

Your sister practically ran the few blocks to the school as soon as she hung up with her mother, feeling absolutely horrible for you. She only felt worse when she made it to the school and walked into the front office, seeing you through the doorway, curled up in a chair in the nurse’s office. She couldn’t tell if you were ill or not, but you had a sickbag next to you, and you still looked very pale. Quickly, Ingrid signed you out, before she made her way over to where you were waiting for her. 

And though you were too old for it, the second you saw Ingrid you were launching yourself into her arms, wrapping all of your limbs tight around her body. 

“Oh, liten.” Ingrid sighed. She’d expected you to be upset when your Mamma had called to tell her what had happened, but her expectations didn’t prepare her for how completely broken you seemed. You sobbed quietly into her neck, holding on so tightly she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to get you to let her go.

“I think we might have a case of nerves on our hands. She doesn’t have a fever, or any other symptoms, and her teacher said she seemed very teary all morning until she was sick.”

At the reminder of what happened, you cried harder. Ingrid shushed you gently, her hand soothingly circling your back. The nurse continued, a sympathetic expression on her face. “I tried to explain to your mother, but as soon as I said I thought it was nerves, she didn’t seem to be very worried.” 

“And we should be worried?” Ingrid wondered, sounding much older and much more concerned than a 16 year old should sound. Exactly how worried the nurse had expected your mom to sound, though she’d been disappointed. 

The nurse nodded. “This is more nervous than an 8 year old should be for school. I think having your sister evaluated might be a good idea. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but anxiety can be hard for a child to deal with if they don’t have the tools to do so.” 

Ingrid agreed, internally, but knew it would be a challenge to get your Mamma on board with it. When it came to you, Mamma always seemed to be doubtful of the truth of any issue you might have. If it had been Ingrid, the older girl knew she’d have had the first available appointment with the best psychologist in town. But because it was you, and Mamma seemed to have so much less patience with you, Ingrid knew it would be a challenge to convince her there was a real issue here. 

“Ing?” You whispered, still attached firmly to your sister. She hummed in response, leaving a kiss on your temple. “I wanna go home.” 

“Let’s go home, Solstråle.” Ingrid agreed, moving as if to release you and stand up. You were having none of that, though, and Ingrid smiled despite herself, lifting your small body easily into her arms. You couldn’t bring yourself to care if your classmates saw you, if your teachers saw you, being carried by your sister out of the school building. 

Although school was only a few minutes walk away from home, you could feel the icky feeling coming back as you got closer and closer. Your Mamma was going to be so mad at you for not making it through the whole day, you just knew it. She was going to be mad, and yell, and Pappa was still going to be mad about when you spilled on him, and he was going to yell too, and home didn’t feel like the place you wanted to go anymore, though you’d been wishing for it all morning.

You knew it was going to happen again, this time trying to give your sister some warning. 

“Ingrid,” you whined, trying to breathe deeply in through your nose and out through your mouth, coming to a complete stop on the sidewalk only a block away from home. “Feel sick.” 

Your sister looked down at you in alarm, your face alarmingly pale as your lips pressed together tightly. 

As quickly as she could, Ingrid grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards the grass. 

You retched onto the ground, though there wasn’t much to come up other than bile that burned at your throat. You were crying again as Ingrid rubbed your back, handing you your water bottle when you were done. “Sorry.” You managed in between small sips, feeling guilty for probably embarrassing your sister by throwing up on the street. 

“Don’t say sorry.” Ingrd frowned. “Maybe you are sick, huh?” She brought her hand up to your forehead, not finding it any warmer than normal. You shrugged, not sure how to convey your fears. Ingrid seemed to pick up on your unease, though. “Are you still nervous?” 

You gave a small nod, slumping into your sister when she stood and pulled you in for a hug. 

“Why? We’re going home.” 

“Mamma and Pappa are going to be mad. About school and about spilling the water and for interrupting their meetings when the nurse called, and making you come get me and-” 

“Slow down, slow down.” Ingrid told you calmly, crouching down once again on the sidewalk, uncaring that several people had had to cross the street to avoid your traffic jam. “No one’s mad, Solstråle, you didn’t do anything wrong. Mamma’s coming home from the meeting early to check on you, she just wants to make sure you’re okay.” 

“She’s not mad?”

“No.” Ingrid promised. “We’re gonna go home, get comfy on the couch, watch a movie, and wait for Mamma. And then we’ll figure out how to make you feel better, okay?” 

You liked that. The ‘we’ Ingrid used. Sometimes it felt like you could do anything if she was with you. Privately, you hoped that you’d never have to do much without her. Ingrid was your very best friend, and best friends were supposed to stay together. 

She was with you when you walked home, did exactly as she promised and got all bundled up with you on the sofa and put on your favorite movie. She was with you when your Mamma came home, who fussed over you right away, only scolding you lightly for working yourself up so much that you were sick. 

It felt nice to be cared for by your Mamma, even if she seemed a little exasperated with you. Really, when was she not? After that comment, though, Ingrid decided to wait to talk to your parents until you were in bed. She was more sure than ever that getting you the help you needed would take a lot of convincing, and she didn't want you to have to hear her argue with your parents on your behalf. 

The raised voices coming from downstairs woke you, however, only a short time after you’d been put to bed. Intrigued, you’d followed the voices, freezing when you overheard your name. 

Sat on the top step of the stairs, you listened as Ingrid talked to your parents. Your head was swirling with contradicting and confusing emotions. On one hand, it felt good to hear Ingrid stand up for you. On the other, though, it felt like a punch to the gut everytime one of your parents said something that completely dismissed the issues you were having. 

“She is just nervous, Ingrid, don’t stress about it. All kids get like this, she’ll be alright.” Your mother sighed, annoyed with having to repeat herself; Ingrid just wouldn’t let up. 

“No Mamma. It is not normal! You didn’t see her last night when she came to me having a panic attack, and you didn’t see her today when I went to get her from school. She needs help, this isn’t fair on her. She shouldn’t have to struggle with this.” 

“Ingrid, there is nothing wrong with your sister. She just likes the attention.” Your father cut in, repeating something he’d heard his wife say over and over whenever you got into arguments with her, and ran off to him in tears. 

At the same time that tears began to well in your eyes, Ingrid snapped, her voice raising. “Quit saying that! It’s not true. She’s shy, she doesn’t like attention, and she certainly didn’t want the attention of her classmates while she was getting sick in front of them. Mamma, please. She needs help.” 

You could imagine your parents exchanging looks with each other, a silent conversation being had. 

“Alright. We’ll take her to see someone, if only so you stop stressing yourself out about this. I don’t want you to worry about your sister, Ingrid. She’s fine, we’ve got her. You need to focus on football.” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes. She’d never put football over you, never. It was her passion, her favorite thing, and while it messed with her social life and made things complicated, she would never let it tear her from you. Not when you needed her. 

“I will stop worrying when a doctor tells you that there is no problem.” 

“We’ll take her, Ingrid, I promise. Everything will be fine, your sister will be fine. If she needs help, we’ll get it for her.” 

You wondered if they were doing it for you, or if they were doing it for Ingrid. Like everything, like always, it was probably just for Ingrid. You were used to that; being less important than your sister. And as much as you wanted to be angry with your sister, you just couldn’t. Not when she was the only one who did things for you. 

Once, Ingrid had promised that she’d always be on your side. So, while you weren’t sure your parents would ever be on your side, or if they ever had been, you knew you could count on Ingrid. No matter where she went, no matter what you did, Ingrid would always have your back. She’d promised, after all. 

------

it's been a while! hope everyone hasn't minded the long wait, and enjoyed this sol installment 🫶🏻 she really is my favorite to write for.

[tell me if you see typos okay byeeee]

[feinv]

john wick is soo tired and youre just filled with energy for the most part, all virile and easily excitable like a puppy, leaving only the option of using john like a toy when he is laid out all exhausted and ready for bed, trying to help n wear you out for bedtime

lost in the fire. sub!john wick x femdom!reader. smut. unprotected sex. pure filth. legal age gap (40s and 20s). cowgirl position. edging. overstimulation. reader is deranged (reader is me). 1k words.

summery. john can be useful in more than one way ;)

a/n. itching not put a p!link at the end oh no wait what is that at the end is that a twitter link oh no how did it get there.

generally, the age gap didn’t play any role in your relationship since you two enjoyed the same things and had a lot in common. it was mostly evident when john was already exhausted enough to fall into everlasting sleep, and you were just starting your day.

he was under the covers, having stripped himself down to only his boxers, back resting on the pile of pillows propped up against the headboard, gaze buried in the book.

you were still feeling sooo energetic, knowing for a fact that you would be tossing and turning for another two hours if you laid down. and besides, the neediness in between your legs was not helping the situation.

your pajamas consisted of your lace panties with one of john’s cotton shirts pooling around your body, stopping just below your bottoms.

an idea popped in your head as you entered the dimly lit bedroom, smirking to yourself as you got on the bed before you accidentally ended up on his lap.

he looked up at you with no emotion in particular, just acknowledging your presence.

“what are you reading?” you asked, not actually interested in his answer, your fingertips lightly caressing his biceps.

“lovecraft. you would love this,” shooting you a tired smile before his eyes went back to the page.

you didn’t mind. you knew his attention would soon be on you again anyway. “mhmm, tell me about it later.”

you got rid of your his shirt, chilly air hitting your nude breasts, making your nipples harden before his eyes widened slightly. “what are you-”

“just do your thing. i won’t bother you,” you cut him off with nonchalant smile. bother him you absolutely would.

he cleared his throat as he shifted his focus back to the book, trying to ignore your bare form in the background. and he almost succeeded. almost.

you hand sloowlyy traced the outline of his cock, fingers sliding over the fabric so gently as if you were doing it on accident, but not before you squeezed your hand around it, making him grunt at your actions, hips jerking involuntarily as his head snapped to yours. “keep reading,” you half-demanded.

he tried. he reread the same sentence for about ten times already, physically unable to take in the words as your hands were massaging him more.

and it was under a horned waning moon that i saw the city for the first time.

and it was under a horned moon that i saw the-

and more.

and it was under a horned moon that i-

and more.

he knew he would be defeated no matter what he tried to do, so he threw his head back into pillows, closing the book and tossing it somewhere before he felt your fingers under his waistband. you shifted around as you got rid of his boxers, leaving him completely naked for you.

he was half-hard when you straddled him again, moving your clothed pussy forward and back, rubbing your inner lips against him and dampening the fabric further as he voiced out soft groans.

you continued your movements until you were literally soaked, taking his both hands and putting them on either sides of your hips where the thin fabric was. “will you help me, john?” you breathed so innocently as he craned his neck upwards, meeting the mischievous glint in your eyes.

tearing the lacy material was a no task at all for his strong hands, the reminiscence of it ending up on the floor.

you repeated your actions from earlier, whining at the better contact as you rubbed yourself more on him, your arousal making a complete mess out of you two. you stood up on your knees, shifting your entrance right above his hardened length as you sat back down. you were so wet you didn’t even need time to adjust, his mushroom tip smoothly gliding through your walls, both of you moaning as you took him to the brim.

your pelvis matched the chaotic thoughts in your head, moving back and forth, then in circles, then jumping up and down on him, sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room, his swollen end kissing your cervix at specific angles.

he was a grunting, whining mess under you, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist at the intensity when you pulled out of him almost completely, just to slide back down, so tight you could feel each popped up vein of his.

you hands wondered around his bare torso, scratching him here and there while you leaned down to place open mouthed kisses on his chest, before they turned into desperate flash sucking, his smooth skin now littered with red and purple marks.

“you’re insane,” you heard his raspy voice, your breasts bouncing up and down as you fucked him senseless. “you seem to enjoy it,” you panted, purposely squeezing around him, the sound coming from his throat proving your point.

you mewled when you connected your fingers to your sensitive spot, playing with the bundle of nerves, your high building and building and building, reaching it’s peak, about to burst, before you retracted your hand and slowed down your movement. you edged yourself hours on end, knowing that the reward would be completely euphoric.

but meanwhile you were having fun, john was about to cry out in pain, or perhaps pleasure. you made him confuse those two. “darling. i- ” gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white, unable to finish his own words.

“you feel so good, john.” you whined in your sweet voice, stretching your hands back to lay them flat on his thighs for additional balance, speeding your thrusts when you felt his seed shoot inside you, his deep, choked groans reaching your ears as you moaned at the feeling of being so full.

“s-stop. fuck-” he stuttered when your hips kept their rhytm, overstimulating his every sense as he helplessly buried his head back into pillows, eyes squeezing shut.

with your one hand back on your clit and your unrelenting thrusts, you felt butterflies dancing in your lower belly, this time not doing anything to prevent them.

with your final movements, your free hand wrapped around john’s back, right where his tattoos were, bringing him closer to you in a hug as your high came down crushing on you. your walls clenched impossibly tight around him, and you heard his high pitched hiss in your ear.

you bit down on his shoulder hard, leaving crescent teeth marks at the feeling of shockwaves of pure ecstasy pump in your veins, your legs shaking uncontrollably underneath.

your sticky bodies were limp against one another, sharing a comfortable silence as your breathings finally went back to normal.

you kissed along his neck gently, leaning back to stare into his hooded eyes before whispering “round two?”

p!link. :3 something similar to that!!

[ladybyakuya]

 ❝ ATLEAST WE SEE THE SAME MOON ❞ + ( sakusa kiyoomi, hinata shoyo, atsumu miya, bokuto koutaro,meian shūgo ) 

cw. | headcanon/scenarios about how they act while being away from you vs how they act when they actually get to see you; gn-reader, boyfriend headcanons, first-time long-distance relationships, fluff, brief mentions of smut, established relationship. || redirect to blog navigation.

notes. | recently rewatched hq so here's something to get rid of my nostalgic brain rot.

☆ SAKUSA KIYOOMI

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a man of less talk and more work most of the time. He is the kind to miss you day and night without diluting his efficiency in the game. Even texting seems hard for him a phone call seems a little too demanding. He will call you when he is at the far end of a high cliff yet not tell you how much he misses you, your voice, your touch around the house. . . everything in general. But after calling for onetime it starts to become frequent and his talk is full of: "Did you miss me?", " Do you even miss me?", " you rarely call me"; even though he is the one who has told you not to call when you feel like it yet he is the one to call you to say that he misses you a lot and most of the time it is out of context. Maybe you are talking about your day, or some local news but when you finish he just spurts "I miss you". There are two seconds of silence then he says again, "I miss you a lot." But when he is finally home, with you on the same bed and inside you, he would still say, "Did you miss me?" and then places open mouth kisses all over your body saying, " because I sure missed you a lot."

★HINATA SHOYO 

 Hinata is used to being away from his favorite people but he is not used to being away from you. His texts are frequent and regularly calls you to check on you but when he misses you he never tells instead he visits famous tourist spots and video calls you, shows you those famous tourist spots through video call and says, "i wish we could see this together," and then goes on autopilot mode of talking. You ask him to repeat what he just said and he does repeat except what you want to hear. It is a pulling-pushing game and the end results are embarrassment, laughter, and confession. He never gives a room to complain but time and place keep you apart from him. He often sends you parcels containing matching pieces of jewellery and outfits. And after such deliveries, he visits you and brings souvenier for everyone, even for you but says, "Don't worry this is not the only thing i came for to give you." So, when everyone is sleeping in the house and you two are awake and barely clad. He says, "I've more souvenirs for you," as he admires the bite marks over your body while hooking his arms around your thighs, getting ready for the next step.

 ✮ ATSUMU MIYA

Atsumu's way of telling you that he misses you is not very stealthy but if you tease too much, his verbal expression comes to a halt since he will build a cocoon around him. Sure, he wears his heart of his sleeve, sometimes on his face but he is never the one to be good with teasing especially coming from his beloved. So, he regularly sends you gifts with an endearing note and when he finally comes home unannounced, he is found in the bedroom with a box full of all those notes he send you, crying. He is crying for two reasons. one: his surprise did not go as he planned. two: he is missing you right now more than ever. When you finally come home, both of you get surprised at first and then he goes back to his whining self about how he wanted to surprise you, talking about his matches and food. Talking about food is a must because he will never admit how good Ongiri MIya is and as he keeps talking he follows you everywhere you go, every corner of the house, and gives you the puppiest face he can manage if you do not let him inside the shower with you. But you actually do, because the owner did miss this puppy.

★ BOKUTO KOUTARO 

 Bokuto makes time for you every day. He is the kind who tells you each and every detail of his each day before going to bed when he misses you. He tells you that he is coming over next weekend to see you and gets pouty when you are not surprised. It is not a wonder to you that it totally slipped his mind that he actually did mention that he is coming to see you but when you mention that you have specifically taken a day off since he was coming he is instantly is in his high spirits. Because he gets to spend time with you, He gets to spend each and every moment with you,he gets to go out with you, he gets to binge-watch shows with you. There are so many things he get to do wuth you just because he told you that he is coming to see you beforehand. isn't that great? Well, of course it is. As much as he is excited to do all these things, he ends up doing nothing instead spending the whole day in bed with you: talking and listening, talking and touching, touching and kissing, kissing and fucking and then fucking and talking again. If you say that you have to cook he says, "can't we order a take out today?" just so he could cuddle you just fiften minutes more.

 ☆MEIAN SHŪGO

 Meian has a reserved time for you, during weekends unless a match comes up. Everyone knows that even team-mates, parents and coach. He asks you to keep the video call on and do whatever you are doing. It is a nice feeling, almost having him like he is with you, around you even if it is through those rectangular screens. But late at night, he gets a little too sneaky and demanding asking what you are wearing? or says that there's something on your shoulder even if there is not. He takes the longest detour to tell you that he misses you. But all of that just sublimes when you say that you are going to shower. He keeps quiet for a moment and ends uo saying the most common reaction,"without me?" There are times when the answer is yes with a huge nod from your end but there are also times, when you say, "No. You can watch." But Meian does not survive your whole shower time. He even ends the video call just before you are fully naked yet deep down in his heart he believes he can improve with time.

[onlyrains]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐍, 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 | 𝐏𝐉𝐒

relationship is scary; what if your partner's room temperature doesn't match yours?

“babe?” jay's head peeked through the door gap.

“hi,” you smiled and plopped your phone on the mattress. “you're back!”

“oh, my god it's freezing,” your boyfriend winced as he set foot in his room.

he glared at you. “did you change the temperature?”

“it's so hot outside, jay.” you whined, his back facing you as he rushed to change his clothes. “and come on, 18 degrees is nothing.”

“nothing?!” he shouted playfully as the cold breeze brushed against his bare back.

you giggled watching him rushing to the bathroom to clean himself first. you knew after he came back, he would not letting himself out of the bed when you're beside him, so he needed to make sure he's ready (to sleep and cuddle for the rest of the day).

but as much as he wants you to spend time with him in his room, he couldn’t stand your gelidness. he just doesn't understand how could one needs to be cold all the time? and sleep in shiver? absolutely no.

“god, it is worse,” you heard him opened the door and his damp face instantly became stiff as the cold air greeted him.

you purse your lips together, holding your laugh at his frustration.

“can we change it?” he asked, pouting.

“what?”

“the temperature.”

you looked at him dearly. it was his room after all, and he had all the rights to do anything, yet he still cares about your own preference.

“hmm… how high?”

“25?”

“too warm!”

“it's normal!”

“okay, 19?”

“is that so different to you?”

you laughed at his sarcasm tone that started to pop up. oh, you love messing around with your boyfriend. he was too cute and he denied it which made him even cuter.

“20 then?”

“fine.” he sighed and gave in at 20.

you moved a bit and opened the blanket so he could fill the space. “c'mere.”

he obeyed and lied beside you just to see you back scrolling your screen again.

“babe, seriously?”

“hm?”

“i'm freezing because of you.”

you glanced. “and?”

“can you please hold me? it's very rare to see me at this hour in my room, you know?”

you chuckled and turned off your phone. “i know.” you brushed his hair. “so you wanna cuddle?”

his gaze remained flat at you and he didn't move an inch under the blanket.

you scrunched your nose, “come here, you grumpy baby,” you said, reaching his neck and pulling him closer to you.

“i’m joking, baby. i’m beyond happy we could have time like this.” you admitted while ruffling his hair.

“mmm i need to get rid of that annoying side of you.” he mumbled to your neck.

“me? annoying?”

“just admit it.”

“okay, okay, i’m sorry.” you held him tighter and kissed his cheek.

his hand mindlessly pulled up your shirt to rub your bare waist.

“you have your lunch, right?”

he nodded on your neck.

“vitamins?”

he nodded again.

“good boy.” you squeezed his cheek.

“stop playing with my cheeks.”

“it's the cuteness aggression, sorry.”

he bit your neck causing a loud gasp out of your mouth. “you're cuter, baby.”

taglist [open]: @llvrhee

[headkiss]

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

༄

The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

-

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

-

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

-

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

-

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

-

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

-

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

-

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

-

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

༄

hey you! if you enjoyed please consider leaving a reblog, it would mean a lot and helps a ton more than you’d think! help support creators like me <3

[xoluvx]

I adore every single piece of work u put out. If u still take requests I would love a fic where Billie and reader share a room on tour and reader waits for Billie to fall asleep so she can get rid of her bulit up tension. But Billie wakes up and kind of joins her and it turns into a quite relieving experience for both of them.

no bc i was ✨foaming✨ at the mouth when i saw this request. thank u anon this is all i ever wanted. i-

The one thing about sharing a room with Billie during tour was the inability to take care of your pent up sexual tension. It was a frustration you carried around daily. Slowly building from a small spark to an untamable forest fire. You’d smile through it, clapping and cheering her on, but all you wanted to do was go back to your room and just let it all go. But of course your room was her room and if you were there she was there.

“You okay?” Billie asked that night as she crawled into bed.

You were standing by the foot of the bed probably staring off into space. Every imaginable thought had ran through your head. It was wild.

Your glass was full, you were spilling at the seams. Your underwear was uncomfortable and you were aching. So when you got into bed and she drifted to sleep, you had to do it.

You sighed quietly, inhaling and exhaling fisting the sheets near your face. The internal battle brewing. You glanced at her side. You could hear her soft breathing, her back facing you. You wouldn’t take more than five minutes tops with the way you’d been feeling lately.

You slid one hand under the covers finding the seam of your shorts. Your hand wandered under the fabric pushing your underwear to the side.

The touch was electrifying.

Finally days and days of tension were unraveling right under your fingertips. It’s was so gratifying. Like a veil lifted, you felt lighter and fuck you were almost there. So close you could almost taste-

“Billie,” you breathed. Your hand frozen between your legs. The sheets pooling around your body. She was facing you. Eyes fixed on your face, shining even in the dim light sneaking through the curtains.

“Fuck,” you muttered taking your hand out of your shorts and pulling the sheets up to your chin. Oh fuck no. No, no, no. Your head was pounding with all sorts of possible outcomes.

All but one.

The one where she was inching closer. Her hot breath lingering near your ear. Lips brushing your skin.

Her hand found your thigh. Fingers spreading over your bare skin wrapping around the back of your leg. Sweaty and hot.

“Please,” you begged and you didn’t even know what you were begging for. But your body knew and so did Billie.

Her hand cupped your pussy and you moaned. There it was. What you were searching for. Billie smiled with satisfaction. She moaned when your arousal started seeping through your shorts. You opened your legs wider and finally her hand slipped under your shorts, finger separating your folds.

Desperate to touch her, you turned your body and your noses brushed. Your breaths mingled as your hand disappeared in her sweats.

A small moan passed between your bodies as you found her clit. Finger moving, eyes searching for signs on her face. When she bit her lip and moved her hips, you knew you had her. She slipped two fingers in your pussy as you rubbed her clit.

You gasped and moaned and whimpered in sync. Hips moving rhythmically. You both closed your legs feeling the burning desire ignited by your hands touching in places no hands of friends should touch.

“I’m gonna cum,” she announced first as your bodies pressed closer and your limbs tangled in the soft sheets.

“Cum with me,” you moaned rubbing harder on her clit, fingers wet and sliding. She whimpered and nodded her head curling her fingers burying them deeper in your pussy pressing on your g spot.

The room was hot like the temperature of your bodies.

And when your lips finally touched the whole world stopped. It was what you both needed to push you off that cliff into the trashing waves. Bodies shaking and tangled. Mouths clinging to each other as you shared this moment and orgasms.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

Can you write abt after care and acts of service jaemin ? I need a cute fluff rn (also i love ur writing so much )

thank you babes!!! hope you enjoy <333

(cw: implications of sex but not explicitly detailed)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Jaemin's arm was looped around your shoulders as you both laid back and tried to catch your breath while staring at the white ceiling of your shared bedroom. The cotton sheets felt fresh against your sweaty back, sheets that had just been freshly washed.

It shouldn't have been as attractive as it was to walk into the bedroom to catch Jaemin fluffing the pillows. It shouldn't have been so attractive to see all the pillows in the exact arrangement you liked them. Jaemin doing the bare minimum, changing the bed sheets, should not have been that attractive. Before you knew it, the sheets were tangled around the both of you in a heated intimate exchange, ruining his work.

Jaemin pressed a kiss to the side of your head, exhaling contently, "you through a wrench in my productive plans for the day. I was about to finish our vacation itinerary. Then I was going to start on dinner for tonight. Now, I just don't feel like leaving your side."

"But tonight is my turn to make dinner," you add while turning on your side to look up at him.

"Well, you did laundry all day and I had this great idea for those potatoes we've had sitting on the counter," he counters while running a slow, gentle hand down your bare spine.

"Jaemin," you drawl out, "I had to do the laundry anyway. Tell me what you have planned and I'll make it. Ok?"

Jaemin groans dramatically while kicking off the sheets and standing from the bed, "let me do something for you! Just this once!"

He grumbles all the way to the bathroom and has an angry pout on his face as he reenters the room with a warm towel to clean you up while you pull his discarded t-shirt over your head. Your head pops through the hole, hair a mess which he lovingly fixes. You keep your eyes locked on him, "you do stuff for me all the time. You changed the sheets, you refill the gas tank in my car, you put my phone to charge, you take over making dinner like 90% of the time. Let me do stuff for you too. I feel like I'm the lazy one in this relationship."

Jaemin's jaw drops in shock, "I do these things because I want to. I like helping you out in any small way I can because I love you. I'm going to love you until I'm wrinkly, old, and gray. You can't get rid of me-- ever. And you're not lazy, you do lots of stuff for me."

You raise your brows at him, asking him to continue, "well, you kiss me whenever I want, you play with my hair when I want you to, you cuddle me to sleep, you get me my favorite snacks when you go to the store even when I don't ask you to. I just like doing things for you because it makes me happy, and more importantly, it makes you happy. You're not lazy because we each have different strengths in this relationship."

"Geez, for a second there I was almost certain my love language was just acts of service but words of affirmation just climbed its way up. You are like the perfect man."

He shrugs with a laugh, "I'm your perfect man. Let me go get started on dinner."

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ top rockstar boyfriend x bttm male reader x switch naga boyfriend ꒰ kinktober: phone sex ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 1311 jingyi / reader / alessio ꒱ one of your boyfriends goes out of the country and calls you up. yet it would seem your other boyfriend is already taking advantage of the situation and fucking you as much as he possibly can.

𖹭. content warnings◞  explicit content . penetrative sex . hand job . phone sex . rough sex . degradation . dumbification . creampie . threesome . multiple orgasms . jingyi is playing switch & is whiney . 1.6k

𖹭. receipts◞  yk what I'm actually happy that I fucked the prompts up because then I got to write this amazing piece hellooooo

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

“Are you touching yourself, hermoso?”

The deep, grave rumble of his voice stiffles your own in your throat. You swallow, trying to get rid of the lump of mewls and whines that settled itself. Alas, all you could do was buck your hips meekly as your hand presses the phone closer to your ear.

“H-Huh? Course not - of course not. . . Alessio. . .”

You sure did a poor job at convincing him. The strain in your tone combined with your stuttered pants did little to shoot down his accusations. Well. He is still only half right.

“Yeah?” Muses the voice on the other end. You hear the creak of a chair and assume he’s settled in his hotel for the night. While you were less than keen at the idea of Alessio leaving for a few days to handle ‘business’ - you failed to realise what the ramifications of that would entail.

Your ass plaps softly. Just missing the line of the call. A large hand grips onto your hips and yanks you back again. So that your back flushes further into a cold chest. Another arm wraps tightly around your middle, holding you still as slow yet powerful thrusts shake your body and the bed.

Jìngyí always had quite the appetite. Especially now that Alessio was away and he had you all to himself. Of course he wasted no time in pushing into you when you were on the verge of sleep. What a way to wake you right up and keep you in his company for longer.

“So what’s with the panting then, amor? Or are ya that happy to see me, eh?”

Alessio’s croon makes you click your tongue. Bite on your lip and try to keep your hips still as your other boyfriend abruptly speeds his thrusts up. A feral wet slapping fills the room as his hand slips to your thigh, shoves it open - and the other reaches down to palm at your spurting dick. A whisper of hushes, hissed praises meets your ear to top it off.

With a gasp and a choked cry - you barely have time to answer Alessio. Instead, your head falls into the pillow and you whine out oh so loudly. A stammered - “J-Jìng - Jin - yí-!”

You hear the other’s breath hitch over the line and at last, Jìngyí speaks up with a breathless chuckle and words tightened by a clenched jaw. “Pretty lil’ thing’s so messy when you’re not here - fuck - you should see him.”

To accentuate the wet slaps - Jìngyí angles his thrusts and shoves your thighs together. A cold grin falling to his lips when you buck back into him and sob his name down the phone. He can already see Alessio burning green yet painfully hard. He knows his fiance well enough by now.

“Oh,” hums Alessio. You can hear the faintest clear of his throat and another creek of the chair over the line. “Oh I see how it is - you’re both having fun in my absence yeah?”

Jìngyí rolls his eyes. Hands promptly grabbing onto your body and roughly shoving you into the sheets. His weight cramped down on you so that you have no choice but to melt into the sheets as he starts pounding your pretty little ass. Until you are whining out sobs and hiccups through the room and down the phone. His cock stretches your rim out so perfectly - and his aggressive thrusts make you see stars.

A hand tightens around your head. Pushing it down into the plush of pillows as he pours the pure frustration of this week out onto your poor thighs and shaking body.

“A-Ah - ah - ah - ah!”

You slur into the casing. Fingers tight around the fabric. For a moment you had completely forgotten about your other boyfriend over the phone. Until you hear his low grumble.

“Jìngyí.”

The name makes the one above you falter. But he bites down on his lips and narrows his white eyes. Slamming his hips forward so that he might fuck into you shallowly. But it is evident with the sudden atmosphere dripping from your phone’s speaker - something has stirred within him.

The click of a tongue is what sounds through next. Followed by a tutting noise. “Tan lindo ( cute ) . . . what didya think you’d have us both?” Alessio grunts over the line. You hear the shuffling of fabric — and the idea of him sitting there. All alone and stroking at his hard dick leaves you drooling even more. If the way you were squirting over the sheets wasn’t doing enough for you.

“Shut up,” hisses Jìngyí. His body cranes over yours and he continues his movements without falter. Although with a few more whining moans. “You’re not taking lead when -” a clear of his throat. “Y-You are fuckin’. . . countries away.”

Another croon. This time Alessio’s voice takes on a sweet lilt. “Won’t I baby? You might be fucking him sore but I know that whine from anywhere. You’re not getting your way this time.”

That’s how it is with these two. A constant fight for domination and control. Suppose you expected that when you entered a relationship with two tops. If you were not sprawled out on the mattress and being fucked raw - you might have teased Jìngyí for losing this time.

His pace becomes a little sloppy. A bit haphazard the more that Alessio speaks to him. He has the need to claw at you. Control you. But he cannot help but abide by some of the commands thrown his way.

“That all you can do baby? Oh come on, know you can pound him harder. Or are ya playing the pathetic slut t’night?”

And so Jìngyí’s hips somehow gained even more power. Crushing yours into the sheets as he brings his forearms own on either side of your head. His noises both guttural and whiney all the same as he starts fucking into you wildly. Faster. Harder. In every way that makes you whine out his name — and Alessio’s while you’re at it.

All you can do is roll your eyes back. Part your lips and let out your own slew of whines when his rough, large hand cups around your jaw. Forces your head to the side so that he can kiss you all messy. His elongated tongue shoving past your quivering lips and down your throat. So that he might at least have some kind of advantage.

The thin sheets cling onto your body. Like a second sheen of sweat that coats you full. The front of your thighs roughly hump against the mattress, creating the perfect friction for your throbbing, wet dick.

You try to whine for him. Tell him to slow down a bit; but is that really what you want? After all it was you that sleepily grinded into him with all your little whines. It was you that started all of this.

“What ‘bout his cute little dick? You playing with it enough?”

A small rasp of air leaves Jìngyí from the voice of his lover. His hand immediately scrambling to hook around you. Palm and fingers wrapped around your quivering cock once again and pumping messily. His thumb swirling at your tip as though to apologise for his neglect.

The sudden sparks of pleasure to your already overstimmed body makes you cry out. A slur and confused mixture of both of their names pouring from your moist lips as you squirt into the sheets again. And again - and again.

All the while, Jìngyí refuses to let up his thrusts. His whines and groans catching the attention of Alessio who you can already hear palming at his own dick. Probably squeezing around his tip and trying his utmost hardest not to cream himself from the slew of lewd noises pouring out of his phone.

“You gonna cum, cariño? Yeah? Gonna stuff them full?”

“A-Alessioooo,” whines Jìngyí, he cannot stop himself from doing just that. His thrusts faltering and dick tensing for but a moment before he snaps and spurts ropes of icy, cold cum into your awaiting hole. The way he collapses into you with a gasp and starts aggressively, shallowly, humping into you again and again spurts out the thick substance down your thighs.

Not to worry. He’ll stuff you full even more.

Of course you follow quickly after. The feel of him painting your walls has your head dizzy and you can only clench. Squirt yourself. And whine down the call.

“Looks like the little whore couldn’t help himself either - hah,”

Alessio’s degradation makes you bite your lip. If only for your head to limp when another order meets Jìngyí’s ears and he’s following like an obedient puppy. Rolling over and pulling you onto his lap. His face flushed and eyes glossy but his expression ever as cold when he takes control over you.

His hips snap up in quick succession to his fiance’s command. Making you bounce like a ragdoll on his throbbing cock that forms a ring of cream at the base. The prominent veins thrumming against your gummy walls. Clawed hands dig into your soft thighs and he grunts up at you.

“Th-Thatt’ssss it - that’s it - yeah, th-that’s it pretty boy.”

His grunt strains a whine. You can all but limp into him. Try and fail to keep up with his rough pounds that send ripples through your plush ass.

Through it all you hear a stiffled sound over the call. A grunt followed by a long groan. You can only imagine that Alessio has stained his hand at last. His hips messily bucking into his own palm. But the both of you are well aware of his insatiable libido. So it is no surprise when his voice drips out of the speaker. Low and raspy.

“Put camera on. Wanna see you fuck and cream our slutty boy full.”

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𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[1800-lemonadeg1rl]

Shopping date

Dark! Wanda Maximoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary- how could you be so silly as to lose your cards?

Warnings- manipulation, dark! Wanda, obsessive Wanda, unhealthy obsession, potential Stockholm syndrome?, not proofread!!, coercion, gaslighted, darkthemes, I'd say some parts contain a little fluff

Wordcount - 1.8k

A/n-this is my first side part for craving you!!! This has little link to main series so can be read separately if you want but I would recommend reading all of it!! Inspired by a comment by @mrsmothermaximoff

You'd been meaning to pay Wanda back for something, anything really. Despite how casual she acted about you just living with her rent free and essentially doing nothing of any great contribution all day you still felt this nagging shameful feeling that tugged at your chest everyday, everytime she paid for you at a restaurant, bought you something she thought looked cute or let you borrow her clothes when yours seemed to go missing.

You felt awful.

Watching her pay for you and provide for you. Your whole life you'd never relied on anyone for anything. Never felt like you'd owed anyone anything. Rarely ever been in any kind of debt but now you owed Wanda everything. But she was so unwilling to ever let you pay her back, always insisting things were no trouble for her, of course they weren't have you seen that woman's paycheck? Telling you to save your money for better things. Making sure you never had to lift a finger for anything you desired.

This was different though. When you first moved in you'd practically begged Wanda to let you atleast pay for groceries and how she couldn't resist how you looked when you begged. So reluctantly, and with a backup plan, she agreed to let you do the weekly grocery shop and pay with your own money. Which for some stupid reason you'd been very responsible with and had a large amount in savings which could easily buy the two of you groceries for a few years.

Wanda did not want to wait a few years for you to come to the end of the money you had saved before gaining a little more power over you. She wanted it now. And Wanda gets what Wanda wants even when she has to play dirty, which she did often.

A rough plan she had concocted the day you'd practically forced her to let you pay for things was to get rid of your debit card in some way. It couldn't be too obvious but she still had to be your Knight in shining armour and save the day for you when you couldn't pay. She couldn't bare the thought of you embarrassedly leaving the shops after not having a way to pay, no she didn't want that for you. She wanted to swoop in and offer to pay.

Around two months maybe three had passed since you started buying groceries. You'd made a set schedule of it by now, you went Friday mornings around 10:30am when the shops were quiet so you could buy your groceries in peace without worrying about running over someone's child with your trolley. Occasionally Wanda came with you but not all that often. You assumed as ceo of her own company she'd have better things to do than go round the supermarket and also partly that she wasn't interested by it, that she didn't actually ever care what you bought as long as you liked it.

Wanda awoke early this particular Friday about 5:00am sharp and was careful as she got off the bed not to wake you, though she doubted she would, you were the heaviest sleeper she'd ever met. It was lucky she was looking out for you then, without her God knows what could happen to you while you were asleep. Before leaving the room she took a quick picture of your sleeping body, head firmly in the pillow and legs wrapped around the duvet half in and half out of it. How cute. She thought as she left gazing at the picture.

Once downstairs she located your handbag, a stylish one she'd gifted you when you worked in the office. Wanda took note of how tatty it was now. Scuffed and marked up. Definitely time to get you a new bag, she can't have her darling going out looking rough. Your bag was always fairly empty so she had no trouble finding your purse in it. Upon opening the purse Wanda took out any large bills and both your debit and credit card from within before closing up your purse and placing your bag back where it was originally sat.

Now the money was easy. Crisp paper bills burnt quickly in her ornate fireplace and brought warmth to the somewhat cold living room, you'd appreciate this warmth when you eventually woke up. Wanda knew this after all she knew everything about you.

The cards were a little tricker that the notes but nothing she couldn't handle as she quickly had another idea. Cutting up your card into tiny minced up indistinguishable pieces and then tossing them in a bin outside that you'd never look in. Wanda was left feeling... proud of her work. She felt like this was well a complished and you'd never be any the wiser. Not that you'd ever dream of accusing Wanda anyway, she was your saviour after all. Your were too clueless to ever once look past her charismatic facade. Too stupid, naive, gullible, dumb.

You woke up to an empty and cold bed a few hours later. Waking up alone always made you feel so awful but you could never guess why. It's not like you and Wanda were dating.. we're you? You brushed the thoughts away, she's just being kind she'd never think of someone like you like that, you tell yourself as you stretch and make the bed.

Later in the morning, you and Wanda were both being chauffeured to the supermarket. Whenever Wanda wasn't around to drive you or couldn't be bothered to drive she'd have you driven around by a private chauffeur who you knew little about. When you asked Wanda she only gave you vague answers saying the chauffeur called herself N and that was all you needed to know apparently.When you drove with N the car was always ominously quiet Wanda occasionally speaking in what felt like code to her and occasionally asking simple questions about how you felt.

Thankfully the supermarket was only a couple of miles away so the drive was over quicker than most.

When Wanda went shopping with you it was quite a different experience to shopping alone. She'd walk ahead of you almost protectively into the supermarket and then would make sure the entire trip round she was by your side at all times, leaving no room for you to sidle off or get lost. Despite what could be described as a dominant presence she never stopped you putting whatever you wanted in the trolley. If you believe the two of you needed that much dry spaghetti or fizzy sodas who was she to argue. I mean it was your money so she reasoned to have little to no input even if she despised some things you added to the trolley. She'd only really comment if you were going to hit something with your trolley, you were lucky you had someone to look out for your clumsiness, or if she also liked something you were putting in the trolley. Other than that she engaged in simple talk with you, she found your small world of excitements and thoughts cute. After all she had curated that small world.

Today was no different. If something was off, which it was. You'd be none the wiser as Wanda kept exactly to her act as she always did. Talking to you about favourite crisp flavours, laughing at your rant about creepy food mascots and helping you guide the trolley. Going round the shops together you felt some sense of domestic bliss even of you kept telling yourself you weren't dating Wanda it definitely felt that way and looked that way. The way her hand would occasionally glide across your back. Her lingering gazes. To anyone not so oblivious they would have thought you two had been dating for months.

Getting to the checkouts you placed your items in your own specific order on the conveyer belt. Wanda deciding to help out with the heavier things, she didn't want you to strain yourself for no reason. All was normal as it would be.

"Cash or card?" You were awoken from your daze of frantically bagging when the cashier spoke suddenly. Opening your purse it felt a little lighter than it should do usually.

"Cash." You responded while looking down into your purse. There was no cash. But you were so sure you'd taken cash out last week at the bank. Still the empty purse stared back.

"You alright darling?" Wanda's voice broke the panic building in you as you looked up at her calm smile while feeling instantly reassured. You nodded in response, a small but firm smile planted on your face as you spoke again.

"Uh.. can I pay card actually." The cashier smiled and nodded before pulling out a card machine. You sifted throught many a gift and reward card sitting in your purse many times awkwardly as a queue began to form before realising your cards weren't there. Your cards were gone. Gone. And you were none the wiser to where.

Your breathing began to pick up as you made eye contact with impatient customers behind as your braced yourself to have to put everything back. "I-..uh- I."

Wanda had been watching your small meltdown confidently until she heard your voice break. The moment she knew it was her time to save you, again.

"Don't worry I've got it." Before you could object she'd swiped her card across the scanner and begun picking up the bags for you and leading your slightly shaking figure away from the tills.

"Come on sweetie. What was going on back there?" She murmured in a tone so sweet you could've got diabetes. Before she could continue speaking you wrapped yourself around her arm. As if it was ab instinct more than a choice. "Oh.. it's okay darling we all make mistakes. I'm sure you'll find your money. You probably just misplaced it. Your such a klutz sometimes detka." You just dumbly nodded as she pulled you into the back of the car staying completely wrapped around her the whole way home, still shaken from the store.

Your cards and cash never did show up and at somepoint you gave up looking. It was clear for whatever reason they were gone and you weren't going to find them. Wanda gave you her card to keep buying the groceries on.. for now, I mean we can't have some klutz who loses her own money handling the ceos cards and shopping.. it'd be better if you stayed home. But Wanda wouldn't push it on you all at once, she knew you needed time yo adjust to using her money all the time. To being reliant on someone. To being reliant on her.

Taglist: @stayevildarling @reginassweetheart @alexawynters @your-my-mission @witchmaximoff @imjustvibingsworld @mrsmothermaximoff