#but i would Happily let her go for the right price

[gaphic]

any interest in a strawberry/vermilion/midnight gen1?

[luvdsc]

TIFU by getting hit by a car over labubus that i was trying to get for the girl i like.

a broken arm is temporary. labubus (and winning your affection) are forever.

pairing :: lee donghyuck x reader genre :: comedy, fluff ⋮ friends to lovers au word count :: 4,751 words warnings :: haechan gets hit by a car but it's not graphic playlist :: the cutest pair (regina song) ⋆ buy me presents (sabrina carpenter) ⋆ buzz (niki) ⋆ soft spot (keshi) ⋆ everything i want (beabadoobee) author’s note :: happy new year, honey bees !!! here's another f2l fic, like is anyone surprised at this point? happy 4 year friendversary (plus 4 days) to moon and me, it'll be 5 years on april fool's with lana, and luvdsc officially turns 6 on the 8th !! ily all sm and thank you so so much for all the support and love these past 6 years, honey bees ᥫ᭡ ↳ part of a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collaboration series.

i. if you were a wise man, (you wouldn’t put your life on the line for bug eyed dolls)

r/TIFU

u/ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 1d

TIFU by getting hit by a car over labubus that I was trying to get for the girl I like

I (24M) was trying to rush to be first in line at the Popmart grand opening and arrived at 11 PM the night before. The girl I like is really into Labubu and Dimoo, and the new store will be fully stocked, first come first serve. I got in line and was fifth in waiting to get into the store. But before that, I had to sit in my car until midnight when people started lining up outside the mall entrance. It got too rowdy though, so the security guard yelled for everyone to go back to the parking structure. Obviously, people slowly inched their way back to the entrance again after pretending to leave, so I made sure to nab a spot by hiding in the bushes closest to the mall doors. Finally at 8 AM, they let us inside and I sprinted into the mall past almost everyone else. I secured the goods (have a seat set, exciting macaron set, wings of fortune, happy halloween party, fall in wild, flip with me) and happily made it out. This was going to be the best Christmas present for the girl I like, and therefore increase my chances of her saying yes to a date. But there was someone driving at way more than 15mph in the mall parking lot and with no care for stop signs and pedestrian walkways. So they ran over a few orange cones before coming to a stop after hitting the biggest speed bump aka me. Now I’m left with a broken arm, a couple bruised ribs, and hopped up on pain meds in the hospital on Christmas day with nothing else to do except post on reddit

⥣ 2,548 ⥥ 280 Comments

farts-and-minecrafts205 • 16h did you secure the goods tho ??? are they ok ??

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.3k ⥥

ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 13h Yes right when I saw the car coming, I made sure to lovingly cradle the labubus in my arms. I didn’t let them hit the ground even after I was in the fetal position in the middle of the parking lot and my ribs acted like their airbags ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

smoothkriminal423 • 12h thank god the resale prices would go down if they got scratched

➥ Reply ⥣ 949 ⥥

ifyouseekamy-yn3435  • 3h gtfo of here fake ass mj stan ➥ Reply ⥣ 452 ⥥

T1NF01LH4T323 • 1h when you got hit, did you go hee hee or goofy’s chuckle ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

0rgasm-d0n0r813  • 9h can I have the labubus she doesn’t want

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.4k ⥥

pissrevolver1122 • 3h reselling labubus here!!! pm for prices 

➥ Reply ⥣ 331 ⥥

ii. baby you would drop, every other ho ho ho, and put me on top

Lee Donghyuck is down bad.

Actually, let’s circle back to that. He is utterly, horrifically, astronomically down bad. There is no other way to describe the situation unfolding in front of him right now because why is he letting you sit at his desk in front of his prestige, top of the art gaming set up, complete with the comfiest gaming chair, matching keyboard with rainbow lighting and teddy bear keycaps, and a personally customized Acer Predator Orion 7000 PC with a miniature arcane Jinx figurine inside it?

Meanwhile, he is seated on the edge of his bed, precariously balancing your MacBook covered in Sailor Moon and Nanami stickers on his knees and fighting for his life as he dodges attacks from Samira and Leona, quickly putting up a shield on his Lulu. Sure, it was stupid to play as Lulu when he’s in the dragon lane, but in his defense, he wanted to try a new AP setup and thought Mark would be a better support than this, what with the obscene amount of money he spent on all those Seraphine skins. If Mark had spent even half the amount of hours as the amount of dollars he blew on those skins, he would be doing better than 0:3:0 within the first five minutes of the game.

“Mark, dude, are you trying to lose on purpose or have you always been naturally gifted at sucking ass?” Donghyuck grits out between his teeth, his fingers moving across the keyboard at top speed, not even sure if his friend can hear him through his wired Apple earphones since he has so graciously let you borrow his top tier headphones, too (Maybe it’s for the better though. He has a permanent dent in his hair on the top of his head because of them).

You don’t even need the headphones. He has turned off the voice chat option for you because you didn’t need to be hearing the absolute scum that comes from the average league player anyway (Not that you would. Mark has been getting the brunt of it from the rest of the team, himself included). But he wanted to give you the full gamer experience, and you look so cute, perched at his desk and attentively scanning the map, his headphones resting on your head so nicely.

All he gets is radio silence from Mark before he sees K/DA Seraphine inching away towards the middle lane. “Are you kidding me? Y/N, can you move to my lane? Mark is too butt hurt to continue dying in the bot lane, I guess.”

“Yes, do I just follow you around?” you ask, carefully guiding your Ahri towards Haechan’s Lulu, careful to check the upper left map view to make sure no one from the enemy team is lurking around you. You stop briefly to admire her animations, her red nine tails swirling around her, making her look ethereal. “This skin is so pretty, thanks for getting it for me, Hyuck.”

“Oh, sure, anytime,” Donghyuck says as casually as possible, completely ignoring the fact that his wallet is now five hundred dollars lighter, all thanks to one Signature Immortalized Legend skin for Ahri. Even he doesn’t have that skin. But what else was he supposed to do? Not buy it for you after you mentioned liking it after he set up League of Legends on your laptop for you to try a few hours ago (nevermind the fact that he’s the one playing on your MacBook now instead)? You chose Ahri because you wanted to play a pretty champ, and of course, he was going to make sure you get the prettiest skin to go with her.

“Oh my god, did you see that?” you gasp excitedly after you hit E and the orbs from Ahri’s second skill swirl and hit Leona, effectively stealing Donghyuck’s kill. “I got her!”

“Yes, you did, congrats, that’s amazing,” Donghyuck struggles to maintain a happy tone, schooling his expression into a peaceful one with much concentration, but it’s alright. It’s perfectly fine. He’s fine. It’s not like he needed an eighth kill to get the legendary title. He can just go for Samira instead. “Can you aim at Samira and hit W please?”

You carefully follow his instructions, and Ahri’s charm move hits Samira perfectly with the heart, pulling the enemy towards your Ahri and Haechan’s Lulu. With a victorious cry, he takes out the enemy and secures the legendary title.

“You’re doing really well,” he compliments you, and your cheeks grow warm as you click at the screen, pretending to focus even more on taking down the opponent’s turret as you answer sheepishly. “Thank you, it’s really fun.”

“Maybe you can play support next time instead of Mark,” he muses, a satisfactory grin appearing on his face when the two of you finally take down the first turret of the game. “That bastard just stands around and looks pretty. He practically feeds the other team.”

He can hear faint cursing in his headphones from the bastard in question, but he ignores it, opting to focus on the sound of your giggling that makes his heart skip a beat and his cheeks take on a rosy hue.

“Mm, you really think so, Hyuck? I think it’s just all beginner’s luck right now,” you laugh softly, maneuvering Ahri around and following his champ towards the mid lane. “Plus, you’re hard carrying us.”

Your borrowed laptop almost slips off of his lap as your words register in his mind, the soft lilt in your voice making his stomach do cartwheels and somersaults that would even impress Simone Biles. Donghyuck very nearly lets out a high pitched giggle before he remembers to get a goddamn grip on himself and hastily clears his throat. “Nah, I think the jungle is doing really well, too. And you’re keeping up with us.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes light up, and he swears they’re even prettier and sparkle more than the one house that goes out all on the Christmas light decorations at the end of the street. “Maybe we can play together more then.”

He swallows hard, eyes zeroing on the screen in front of him so he wouldn’t seem as eager as he really is secretly. “Sure, that sounds great.”

“Great, it’s a date,” you say lightly, and Donghyuck immediately stops breathing and promptly drops the laptop onto the carpeted floor, his Lulu getting instantly KOed in the game while Mark swears loudly in his earphones.

ii. spend your cookie dough, dough, dough, spend it on my heart

It’s times like these that Donghyuck really has to sit and think hard about what the actual fuck he is doing with his life. It’s not like he has anything else to do anyway. He’s sitting in the nearly empty mall parking lot at 11 PM, preparing to camp out in front of the entrance just to make sure he’d be one of the first people to enter Popmart and buy all those Labubus you’ve mentioned that you’ve been wanting.

He’s tried for months now, obsessively refreshing the Popmart app on his phone and iPad in addition to refreshing the website on his computer at 10 PM sharp on Thursdays in hopes of snagging just one of them for you. He’s even made a whole account, added his credit card in for fast payments, and watched those stupid 24/7 TikTok lives from the Popmart accounts just in case they release any on there as well. All he ended up with was no Labubus and two hundred thirty dollars short because he discovered that they had a K/DA figurine collaboration and obviously, he immediately bought the whole set. 

But his prayers were answered in a convoluted way because news dropped that a new Popmart was opening nearby on December 24th, which meant it would be fully stocked with all the Labubus you want, and he’d be damned if he let this opportunity pass. It was both a curse and a blessing. What kind of corporate devil chooses their grand opening to be on Christmas Eve? So that leads to his current predicament: sitting in his car, about to brave the cold for the next 10 hours outside for some dumb dolls and fighting through the last minute Christmas shoppers during the hours after that.

Donghyuck puts on a couple more extra layers, including a giant Canada Goose jacket for good measure, and stuffs his pockets with an external battery charger, some power bars, and a water bottle. Finally, he makes peace with the fact that this is what his life has come down to, that he really is this down bad for you, and he gets out of his car, shuffling over to the entrance and standing in line with all the other men who are probably there to get Labubus for their girlfriends and wives. They all give each other the nod in solidarity, and so begins the wait.

He sits with his back against the wall, huddled up in his puffer jacket and pulling out his phone to play Wild Rift to pass the time. If one game averages between 15 - 30 minutes, then he only needs to play 20 - 40 games. That’s not so bad, he reasons with himself, tapping the screen idly while he waits for the matchmaking to complete. He can do this.

By 5 AM, there’s a large crowd of people waiting, the noise level going up and some shoving going on. He quickly steels himself and stays firmly planted in his spot. He will be getting those damn dolls, no matter what. When the security guard comes out to break up the rowdy crowd, he quickly slips behind the nearby bushes lining the mall, taking advantage of the commotion. Once again, he settles down in the dirt, hunched over and playing his game, dignity lost but his place in line still in sight. Donghyuck really hopes no one he knows sees him here.

At 8 AM, one of the Popmart store managers takes pity on the growing crowd (who returned less than an hour later after the security guard got tired of monitoring them) and opens the mall doors. He quickly pops out of the bushes, no doubt scaring a couple people but he couldn’t care less at this point, and sprints into the mall, beelining it to the figurine store and securing his spot as fifth in line. He hastily brushes off the dirt clinging to the seat of his pants and any twigs in his hair before waiting impatiently.

Finally, by 9 AM, Donghyuck has secured the goods at last, clutching onto four large bags filled with two full sets of Labubu blind boxes, two of the larger dolls, and three special plush keychains (he ignores the email notification from his bank asking if he had made this purchase). Strutting with his head held high, he would do a hair flip if his hands weren’t so occupied with carrying out half the store’s supply of Labubus. He proudly walks through the mall with his long coveted purchases, feeling even more triumphant than when he reached grandmaster in League and ranked in the top 200 for Master Yi.

Unfortunately, Lady Luck always gets to have the last laugh because Donghyuck barely makes it out the door before he finds himself lying flat across the crosswalk pavement. A loud yelp escapes from his lips as he instinctively grips onto his shopping bags, curling around them protectively as pain shoots up around his ribcage and forearm. He wants to laugh or cry or maybe do both simultaneously.

This has to be a joke. All that work, all that humiliation, just to be bested by someone’s god awful, hideous Cybertruck. He’s about to become the modern day Scrooge because all the ghosts must have come together to put up an even bigger middle finger salute to him since he just had to get hit with that fugly monstrosity to top it all off.

God damn it all, where the fuck was Edward Cullen when Donghyuck needed him the most?

The universe really didn’t want him to get those ugly dolls. He should have taken the L in defeat and read all the foreshadowing signs when he couldn’t get them every time he tried before that because now the universe is out of balance, and he had to pay for it. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction after all. Man plans, god laughs.

Jokes on the big man upstairs though because his Labubus are all still nestled safely in his arms in (hopefully) pristine condition, and they’d have to be pried from his cold, dead hands (which honestly, might be soon). Is this how Emily felt in “Devil Wears Prada” when she got hit by a taxi and all those Hermes scarves went flying (correction: floating) around her? He glances down just to see the fall in wild Labubu pendant smirking back at him mockingly, still in its perfect packaging and in his shaking clutches. He desperately wants to punch its smug little face, but his arm is unfortunately twisted in an unnatural position at the moment.

Donghyuck is knocked out of his stupor when he hears the sounds of the driver quickly clambering out from their seat, hurrying towards him and kneeling down, asking if he’s okay. Someone else is asking him if he wants them to call someone, and he faintly registers the excruciating pain in his ribs and the way he landed on his arm. Clenching his teeth, he closes his eyes before managing to croak out feebly:

“Are all the Labubus okay?”

iii. if you’re not gonna race here from the north pole to beverly hills the hospital, just to keep my stocking filled

When you wake up extremely late past noon on Christmas morning, you definitely do not expect the huge flurry of texts and missed calls on your phone. And more importantly, you most definitely do not expect to find out that Donghyuck is in the hospital. With your heart dropping to your stomach, you hastily get dressed and  grab your keys, entering the hospital address Renjun texted you into your Apple Maps as you rush to your car.

Making a quick detour to the bakery he likes, you get a couple slices of Mont Blanc for him before continuing on the route to the hospital. You haphazardly park your car before hurriedly speed walking through the automatic entrance doors, clutching tightly onto the box of baked goods as you get into the elevator and finally reach his room.

“Hyuck?” you say tentatively, knocking on the door and peering inside, relief filling you instantly when you see him seated upright in the hospital bed, awake and pouting. Along with all the balloons and flowers his friends must’ve dropped off earlier, there’s an unusually large pile of Popmart bags in the corner of his room, but you don’t question it at the moment. His heart rate spikes on the monitor, and you look at it in concern before his loud sigh brings your focus back to him.

“What took you so long?” Donghyuck huffs dramatically, trying to cross his arms over his chest as best he could with one arm in a cast. “I texted you this morning, didn’t I?”

“I just woke up like 45 minutes ago and rushed here,” you defend yourself lightly, dropping the cake box on the stand next to him, and his eyes instantly light up before he remembers that he’s supposed to be upset and turns his nose at you slightly.

“It’s 3 PM, what do you mean you just woke up? You forgot about me, didn’t you?” he huffs softly, peeking over at the cake for a split second and then resumes pouting at you, his lower lip jutting out slightly. 

“I, uh, I stayed up late, trying to catch up on my game,” you avoid eye contact, cheeks growing warmer as you try to excuse yourself, tripping over your words in haste. “There’s this Touring in Love event going on right now and I wanted to get the limited four star card for Zayne, so I had to get more game currency in the event store, not to mention, I needed to get more gems to pull on the current five star banner because I lost my pity to the Sylus card a—” 

“Is this that otome game you’re into?” Donghyuck interrupts, and your face feels like a burning furnace now.

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe it. I lost to a bunch of pixels,” he sighs a second time, flopping back against his pillows gingerly to not aggravate his bruised ribs but to also emphasize his sulkiness further. “You were too busy visiting your AI generated boyfriend in the hospital, instead of visiting  me.”

“I was asleep!” you protest lightly before picking up the cake again and holding up your peace offering, “The second I woke up and saw the texts, I drove over here. I even got you your favorite cake.”

“I sat here, cold, alone, and in pain, for hours,” he fake sniffles, unabashedly eyeing the cake for a third time before refocusing back on you.

“You’re acting like a real Rafayel right now.”

Donghyuck sulks even more. “He’s not even your favorite in the game.”

“Yes, my favorite works at the hospital, not makes the hospital work,” you tease softly, and he huffs slightly, puffing out his cheeks and making himself look even cuter (though you’re not going to tell him that and make his ego even bigger than it already is). 

“Wow, you’re bullying a gravely injured person on Christmas too. You’re cruel. I can’t even do anything, except lie here motionlessly on my deathbed,” he sighs once again, closing his eyes before opening one of them to peek at you and quickly shutting it again once he confirms he has your full undivided attention.

“Renjun texted me literally fifteen minutes ago that he just left your room, and you were asking him to bring you your iPad to do all the dailies for your games,” you deadpan, pulling the chair to the spot next to his bed and settling down in it.

“Renjun is a snitch,” he mutters, relaxing against his pillows and accepting the cake after you open the box and place it on the tray attached to his bed. He takes a bite of the sweet goodness, humming slightly in content. 

“So, your type is quiet, serious guys who work at hospitals?” Donghyuck says casually, scooping up another bite of the cake, and you nearly choke, fumbling over your words. 

“W-Well, yeah, I guess, but it’s just a game. And um, he’s quite pretty.” You clear your throat slightly giving him a mischievous smile. “Why? Are you interested?”

“In you? Yeah, I thought I made myself pretty obvious all the time,” he states matter-of-factly, almost as if he’s reading off today’s news headlines or the weather, and you choke for real this time, coughing slightly.

“Anyway,” Donghyuck continues, taking another bite of his cake after handing you a water bottle which you quickly accept and sip, calming down your throat. “Do you think you can maybe go for a Rafayel guy in the near possible future? More specifically, one minute into the future?” He gives you a small smirk, batting his eyelashes at you. “I’m also pretty enough, aren’t I? Once I’m out of this hospital gown and in my usual clothes, I’d be even prettier.”

You laugh softly, tilting your head slightly as you look at him, hiding your smile. “I guess I could be convinced. Why one minute though?”

“Because I’m about to ask you out,” he answers immediately.

Your cheeks grow exponentially warmer once again, and you swallow nervously before masking it with a confident expression, teasing him, “Then go on. Ask me out.”

Donghyuck’s cheeks turn a rosy color as the realization of what he’s about to do finally kicks in (and perhaps, the pain medication has started to wear off slightly, so the post clarity is hitting him). Once again, the monitor shows a spike in his heart rate, and he curses it internally when he sees you glancing at it with a knowing smile. It’s an even worse snitch than Renjun. He clears his throat, sitting up as straight as he possibly can in this state, “Will you, Y/N, go out with me and be the very first person to sign my cast?”

You giggle before nodding, sending him a giddy smile as your heart thumps loudly in your chest, an explicable warm feeling spreading throughout your body and kicking up butterflies in your stomach. “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

He immediately lights up, beaming at you. “Yeah? Wanna seal it with a kiss? I would if I could.”

Another peal of laughter bubbles up in your throat, but you oblige, leaning in and pressing your lips against his gently, the faint taste of caramel lingering on his lips. The kiss is sweet and smooth, fitting for him, and the loud beeping from his heart monitor increases almost immediately, much to his chagrin. You laugh softly against his lips at the sound, making his cheeks flush even redder if possible, and give him another soft kiss before pulling away.

“We should stop before we alert the nurses,” you tease softly, and he stammers, unable to come up with a smartass response for once in his life.

Your face is still warm as you busy yourself with uncapping the sharpie pen on the table next to him and work on signing his cast, writing your name out in pretty loopy cursive and a get well soon message, dotting any i’s with cute hearts that mirror the ones in Donghyuck’s eyes as he gazes at you.

“Didn’t the guys visit you? Why didn’t they sign your cast?”

“I wanted you to be the first one. Girlfriend privileges, and all that,” he answers lightly, and your heart skips a beat at your new title. You wonder if you’ll get used to it.

“Oh, really? I’m honored.”

“You should be,” Donghyuck says with a confident nod, and you can’t help but laugh, leaning in and pressing another kiss against his cheek. His cheeks turn crimson, and you notice, prompting you to leave another soft kiss against them and causing them to become an even embarrassingly darker shade of red as he stutters slightly, rendered speechless.

Yeah, you definitely can get used to these girlfriend privileges.

.

“So you won the real life boyfriend pity with me, right?” 

“Don’t push your luck.”

iv. well i know somebody who will

r/TIFU

u/ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 9h

(UPDATE) TIFU by getting hit by a car over labubus that I was trying to get for the girl I like

First off, let me get this straight - I am not reselling any of the Labubus so stop pming me about that. I already gave them to her.

Ok now for the actual update. She visited me at the hospital and insisted that she’d drive me home when I got discharged. She’s really nice and brought me my favorite food. She’s also been bringing me meals everyday and we’re having dates at my place until my arm is fully healed. We have another date later today and we’re gonna watch Tangled and bake cookies. She also got me into blind boxes so now I have another crippling addiction and a shelf in my room just for Dimoos. We have matching Labubus on our bags, and she dressed them up in matching outfits too. She made me install a car seat thing on my AC in my car too so now my Labubu son can sit there when I start driving again. Oh and she has a whole pc setup now to play league and a new game, Infinity Nikki and I started playing it with her too. The graphics are very pretty. I feel like a pretty princess in my full flutter storm set ଘ(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ ⭒ Wish me luck on the upcoming banners pls I’m saving up for the lunar new year set since she said the franchise usually goes all out for it. So yeah that’s it. We’re dating now! Happy new year to everyone except zayne from love and deepspace /:

⥣ 1,606 ⥥ 273 Comments

farts-and-minecrafts205 • 9h TIFU by asking him about his date and I was stuck on the phone for three hours

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.2k ⥥

pissrevolver1122 • 8h fr OP became even more insufferable after finally scoring a date ➥ Reply ⥣ 809 ⥥

ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 3h you're just jealous that the only affection you can get is by pretending to be a discord kitten ➥ Reply ⥣ 967 ⥥

mark-mywords-802 • 2h R U UWUKITTENBB69 ??!???! I BOUGHT U SO MANY AKALI SKINS ➥ Reply ⥣ 231 ⥥

John-Doe209 • 3h so is this a pity date or..? maybe she’s looking for a sugar daddy?

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.0k ⥥

ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 1h SHUT UP SHE LOVES ME ➥ Reply ⥣ ⥥ -204

demure-and-mindfull-of-nanami626 • 2h what did zayne do to you???

➥ Reply ⥣ 526 ⥥ 

ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 1h I got hit by a car for you and I still have to compete with that dude 😃 ➥ Reply ⥣ 153 ⥥ 

[withwritersblock]

When You're Ready

~When You're Ready by Shawn Mendes~

Author's Note: requested! not entirely proud of how this turned out but enjoy! italics are flashbacks as always Summary: Luke drunkenly confesses his feelings for his friend. Warnings: ermmmm idk Word Count: 4,275

Luke was drunk, probably the most drunk he’s been since the frat parties back at UMich. He was leaning against the bar, not sleepy but was definitely feeling dizzy. He was only allowed water because Jack was getting protective over him. 

Jack leaned against the wall, in the corner of the bar beside Luke. His phone was against his ear as he was listening to it ring and ring. 

“Jack?” Y/N let out sleepily.

“Hey! Luke is shitfaced right now, I would offer to take care of him but-” Jack paused as a giggle fell from his lips, “I’m also pretty fucking shitfaced and waiting for my girlfriend,” he explained. 

“Is that Y/N? Can I talk to her!” Luke shot up, a wide grin on his lips. Jack nodded, but kept the phone against his own ear. Luke whined as he reached his hand over. 

“I guess he can stay in my guest room. Just give me like twenty minutes,” she mumbled before she hung up the phone. Jack’s lips curled up into a grin as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Luke lifted up the glass of water and drank a long sip before he cautiously placed it back down onto the counter. “Y/N is taking you back to her place,” Jack offered as he brought his beer towards his lips.

“Aw man, I missed her. We’ve been traveling so much,” Luke offered as he shook his head slowly. His head moved delayed to either direction. 

“Are you going to tell her?” Jack drunkenly let out while he patted his hand against Luke’s back.

“Will not,” he said simply. 

“C’mon!” Jack pleaded as he continued to hit his hand against Luke’s back. “S-see I knew she li-liked you because she’s coming here at-” he trailed off searching for a clock, “What ever time it is.”

“Don’t want to talk about it, let me drink more booze,”

“No, Lukey you’re cut off,” Jack demanded.

“Me? You’re the one sl-slurring your words!” Luke said, pausing he realized he slurred too. The brothers began giggling.

Jack gasped as he scooted back away from the bartop. He smiled widely as he walked quickly towards his girlfriend entering the bar. “My girlfriend!” he let out happily as he shoved passed many drunk people. She giggled loudly as Jack happily wrapped his arms around her pulling her tightly towards him. “Come on, let’s go,” Jack muttered.

“Let’s wait for Y/N to get Luke,” she mumbled as she met his gaze. Jack groaned as he wandered towards Luke. 

Luke lifted his gaze, clenching his jaw as he smiled towards the pair. “He’s pretty drunk,” Luke observed. She rolled her eyes as she leaned against the bar. Jack rested his hand onto her lower back.

“I figured, thanks Luke,” she let out while laughing. 

Y/N was convinced that this party was going to actually ruin her whole mood. She was not a fan of giant crowds, especially a huge crowd of people whom she barely even knew. 

But Courtney was so sure that she would have fun, despite Courtney knowing everyone there. Well she’s only met a handful of the people at the party a few times but her boyfriend knew everyone. Which meant Courtney knew everyone. She never told Y/N who her new mystery man was. Even though the pair had been going on for months at this point. 

Courtney needed it to be secret, so secret that she would never tell anyone. Courtney and Y/N sat in the back seat of the car as they headed towards her boyfriend’s apartment. 

“So we’re going to his place and then the night club? Can’t we meet there?” Y/N groaned as she leaned her head against the headrest. It was safe to say, she was already tipsy and not in the mood for extra work. 

“You have to meet him,” she argued. 

The Uber pulled off to the side of the road, in front of a building that was definitely out of either of their price range. They stepped out of the Uber and Courtney began walking towards the building like it wasn’t her first time. Y/N stayed put as her eyes scanned the building.

“You forgot to mention he was rich,” Y/N mumbled as her gaze finally landed on Courtney.

“He’s not rich, he has money there is a different,” she explained while wrapping her arm around Y/N’s before she guided them towards the entrance.

“I feel like you just said the same thing,” Y/N mumbled while laughing. Courtney rolled her eyes as they stepped inside of the building. 

The walls were dark blue, with white tile on the floor. There was white curtains from the ceiling to the floor. The dark blue couches look like they’ve never been sat on but they were giant.

“Courtney, you can head straight up,” the doorman said excitedly. 

“Thank you, Danny,” she let out happily as she pressed the up button towards the elevator. 

Y/N leaned towards her, “How often are you here?” she whispered.

“Often,” she mumbled. 

The elevator ride was fast as they were only heading up a handful of floors. The fifth floor was the same decor as the lobby but less extravagant. The walk to the apartment was fast as it was only three doors down. She knocked four times. 

After a few seconds, the door was swung open and to Y/N’s surprise it was John Marino. “This is John?” Y/N let out quietly.

The music poured into the hallway. The music was not usual party music but it was loud and music she usually enjoys.

“Hey baby,” John let out as he reached towards Courtney, he wrapped his arms around her. Pulling her towards him, he smiled towards Y/N, “Y/N, it’s great to finally meet you,” John said as he motioned for her to step inside. Slowly, she walked inside beside John and Courtney. 

“Nice to-uh meet you too,” she let out shyly. Her eyes started to scan the room noticing two more Devils players sitting around the room. One with a gorgeous blonde girl in his lap and the other was sitting on a couch by himself. She wished she was not fan girling while in the room but she was. 

Luke Hughes looked up, meeting her gaze. She felt her heart jump in her chest as she met his gaze. His cheeks pinked up but he quickly shifted his gaze down towards his phone. 

Courtney slipped away from John’s grasp and walked back towards Y/N. She wrapped her arm around Y/N’s. “You should’ve brought up the whole Devils player thing,” she whispered, her gaze shifting around the room.

Luke’s eyes widened as a grin formed to his lips. He saw Y/N enter the bar. Jack’s girlfriend wandered towards her, leaving the boys to themselves.

“How bad is it?” Y/N asked teasingly. 

“They’re trashed,” she said simply. Y/N tossed her head back while laughing. 

“Alright, I’ll go take care of Luke,” Y/N let out, a smile on her lips. Jack’s girlfriend’s eyebrows raised as she held a smirk on her lips. “Oh shush,” she muttered as she pushed through the crowd to reach Luke. He was resting his head on his hands, his eyes starting to shut.

A sleepy smirk formed to his lips as his eyes were open slightly. “Y/N, you came!” he let out excitedly. “I’ve missed you,” he let out. She rolled her eyes as she stood in front of him. Resting her hand onto the bartop, she tilted her head to the side to try and meet his gaze. 

Jack and his girlfriend had already slipped out of the bar, leaving Y/N and Luke alone. 

“And you’re in your pajamas,” he observed, his sleepy gaze scanned her frame. Her body was covered with an old thin long sleeve top with a pair of sweatpants. She took a hold of his arm, helping him stand. He leaned against her, using her to help him walk.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” she mumbled as they continued through the bar, shoving through people to go to the entrance.

It was a quick and easy exit out of the bar, her car was parked directly on the street. Luke was still using her to help guide him as he walked. “You’re a great person, Y/N,” he mumbled.

“Thank you, Luke,” she mumbled while laughing. Slowly pulling away from him, he stood on his own. Stepping back, she tilted her head to the side meeting his gaze. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he leaned his head back. His lips curled upward slightly as he admired her frame. “What?” she let out shyly.

“You look beautiful,” he mumbled. Y/N smiled softly, knowing the words leaving his lips were drunken thoughts. “I meant as a friend, you know like because fri-friends can say that stuff. Can th-they say stuff like that?” he ranted nervously.

“Friends can call each other beautiful,” Y/N said as she met his gaze. He smirked as he ran his tongue across his lips.

“Well then,” he muttered as he took a step towards her, “How come you never called me beautiful?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes playfully as she pursed her lips forward, “You’re very beautiful, Luke,” she let out. His lips curled up into a toothy grin.

“Thank you,” he sing-songed. 

She met his gaze and watched the drunkenness take over in his eyes. With each blink it was evident he was getting more and more exhausted. She ran her fingers through her hair as she pointed towards the passenger seat door.

“You going to get in the car?” she asked him teasingly. He took a small step towards her. Biting his bottom lip, he was taking in a deep breath. “I mean I did practically carry you out of the bar,”

“You did not,” 

“I absolutely did, walk in a straight line right now,” she let out laughing. He straightened his body as he confidently walking towards the passenger seat of the car. 

His steps were definitely not in a straight line but as he leaned against the car door, he nodded proudly. 

“Wow, that was horrible,” she teased. 

Dropping his gaze to the concrete, he shook his head while chuckling. “Yeah, n-not my best work,” he said as he flung his head back up. He pulled on the door handle, opening the door. Smiling towards him she excitedly walked around towards the driver’s side of the car.

Y/N sat down on the couch beside Courtney. Her and John were not sitting close, almost on purpose to push her towards Luke. He lifted his gaze from his phone a handful of times to meet her gaze. Shyly, she avoided his eye as much as possible.

It started to feel like a set up. Everyone was in their own couple. It left Luke and Y/N to talk. Except they were not doing much talking.

Y/N was still freaking out that she was sat beside him and he was freaking out because if Jack and John were setting him up with someone, she could’ve been a little less hot. 

A little less intimidating because he couldn’t focus.

Or maybe it was because there was too much alcohol in his system, he couldn’t tell.

He knew he would get made fun of for the whole night if he didn’t speak to her but right now it was too intimate. 

“Okay, our Ubers are here,” Jack jumped up, keeping his hand loosely around his girlfriend’s waist. 

John did the same thing. Luke and Y/N stood up, sharing awkward glances. They both started walking towards the exit, side by side.

Reaching towards the door, he pulled it open, she smiled politely towards him. He slowly shut the door behind him and they continued down the hallway.

“Are we being set up?” she asked, pointing her finger between herself and him. Luke let out a nervous chuckle as he shoved his hands into his pocket.

“I wish I knew,” Luke rolled his eyes playfully, “With those two who knows.”

He pressed his lips together as he met her gaze for a few seconds. 

“I wish I knew my roommate was dating one of you guys, that would have been a nice heads up,” she explained.

“Wait, Court and John have been together for almost four months and you had no idea,” Luke questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. She nodded dramatically. “How did you not know, you guys live together?” he let out while laughing. 

She took a deep breath as she fought the smirk forming to her lips, “It just so happens that I grew up a huge Devils fan,” she mumbled. Luke’s eyes widened as he grinned. 

“Oh so you’ve been silently freaking out since you stepped into the door,” he teased.

“Have not,” she muttered crossing her arms over her chest.

“You want an autograph?” he teased. She shoved him away from her while laughing.

She happily sat down in the driver seat and quickly turned on her car. Heat blasted through the vents to warm the cold air inside of the car. Luke was watching her every move, his eyes dragged as he scanned her frame.

She stared towards her phone as she tried to find the perfect playlist. She played her own favorites mix before she rested it into an empty cup holder. Putting the car into drive, she pulled away from the bar. 

“You need my address?” he asked before swallowing hard. She glanced towards him, smirking slightly before she looked back towards the road. He pressed his lips together while shutting his eyes.

“I think I got it,” she let out laughing.

Furrowing his eyebrows harshly, he tilted his head back against the headrest, “I can’t believe you went to the bar in your pajamas,”

Her mouth fell open as she fought off the grin forming to her lips, ‘Clearly you’ve forgotten, I was asleep!”

“Right,” he muttered. He stared towards his hands as he took in long breaths. She pulled up to a red light, shifting her gaze towards him. 

“What’s on your mind?” she mumbled. He shrugged as he continued to stare down towards his lap, “Luke?” she asked again. 

It was a fast friendship. It seemed like out of no where they were inseparable. Ever since that night at the club, where they drunkenly danced together the whole night they’ve been inseparable. 

Tonight was no different, Luke was coming home from a game where they lost. He was not in a great mood but he knew that Y/N could make him feel better. Ever since he met her, he found himself gravitating towards her whenever he was in a bad mood. Whenever he was sad she made him feel better. 

He texted her that he was waiting outside of her apartment and she happily shot up from her couch. She walked towards the door pulling it open to reveal Luke. He was wearing a hoodie and a pair of sweats as he walked inside, holding his arms open.  She smiled towards him as he wrapped his arms around him. Sinking into his chest, she let the door shut behind him. 

“Is Courtney here?” he asked as he rested his hand onto the back of her head as he caressed her hair. Shaking her head, she slowly pulled away from him. “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” 

“Always,” she mumbled as she met his gaze for a few seconds before she began to walk backwards towards her bedroom, “Let’s watch a movie,” 

His lips curled upward into a small smile as he followed after her, digging his hands deep into her pocket. He followed after her, his gaze trailing her frame as she guided him towards her bedroom.

She pushed the door open as she dropped down onto the bed. Luke stood in the doorway, admiring her from the small distance. 

“You can lay down y’know,” she teased as she patted the empty space beside her. 

He walked around the bed and cautiously laid down beside her.

“Any recommendations?” she offered as she met his gaze. He pouted his lips forward as he shook his head. He turned his body to the side, facing her. Looking down towards him, she turned her head to the side as she felt her lips curl upward. 

“Harry Potter?” he asked softly.

Furrowing her eyebrows she shifted her body towards him. They laid face to face, their noses nearly bumping one another with how close they are.

“You can’t just watch a Harry Potter movie, you have to watch them all,” she offered as she found her gaze lowering towards his lips.

“I don’t have plans tomorrow,” he offered teasingly. 

“You know, I think you’re beautiful in like a not a-a friend way,” Luke let out, he lifted his gaze to meet her eye. Her eyes widened slightly as she continued to look into his eye. “That’s obvious to you right?” Luke let out.

She took a deep breath as she watched the light turn green through the corner of her eye. She began to speed ahead with her heart beating faster and faster. “Luke, you know, I don’t have time for a relationship right now. With work and school, I barely have time for a social life-”

“I know, which is why I never said anything.” he let out, he swallowed hard as he shyly shifted his gaze down towards his lap. He took a deep breath, “I know I’m drunk or whatever but you’re literally everything I’ve ever wanted, you know that?”

She took a right turn into the parking garage beneath his apartment. “Luke,”

“I’m serious-”

“You won’t even remember this conversation tomorrow,” 

“When you’re ready or when you think you have time for one, I’m right ‘ere,” he explained as he lifted his gaze again. She pulled into a guest parking spot and quickly put the car into park. “I’ll always be waiting for you because you cannot tell me you don’t feel the same way. You can’t look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to kiss me,” 

“Luke-” 

“But if it’s forever that I have to wait for you, I’ll wait because you are worth waiting a lifetime for,” he further explained as he looked deeply into her eyes. She took a deep breath as she pressed her lips together.

“You don’t know what you’re saying right now,” she expressed as she turned her body to face him.

“I know exactly what I’m saying because I haven’t stopped thinking about it for months. I mean come on, Y/N, look me in the eye and tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind,” 

“You know I can’t,” she mumbled. 

“So whenever you’re ready, I’m waiting,” he said as he leaned his head against the window.

“Let’s get you up to bed and then when you’re sober let’s have this conversation,” she explained as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door harshly. Luke unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. 

He stumbled out of the car, nearly falling over. “See-” she barked out a laugh, “How am I supposed to take you seriously when you are this drunk!” she took a hold of his arm, he looked down towards her as he allowed her to guide him towards the elevator.

~

The walk towards the apartment was fast while getting Luke ready for bed was another story. He kept making jokes about her taking his clothes off and helping him get into a pair of sweats to help him get comfortable. Or chug a bottle of water and eat a handful of snacks.

He laid beneath the comforter, shirtless and whining. “You have to stay,” he called out, reaching his hands towards her. Letting him take a hold of her hand, he interlocked their fingers. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel her heart flutter at the sudden touch.

“Luke, I want to sleep in my own bed,” she told him as she looked into his eyes. 

“But you’ve slept in my bed before, what’s wrong with doing that tonight? I me-mean you’re already in your pajamas it’s perfect,” he explained, swinging their hands.

“Well you brought up some things that make this weird,” 

“Only weird if you make it weird,” he offered teasingly. She took a deep breath as she continued to look into his eyes, they squinted slightly as he leaned his head back against the head board.

“You’re the one that made this weird, by the way,” she said sarcastically as she climbed over him to lay beside him in the bed. Slowly, she climbed under the comforter and rolled onto her side to meet his gaze. 

“I just put the truth into the universe,” he teased while pursing his lips forward. She rolled her eyes dramatically as she rolled onto her back.

“Good night Luke,” she mumbled. He took in a sharp breath as he fell onto his back as well. 

“Good night,”

~~~

The following morning, Y/N woke up before Luke. She tiptoed out of the bedroom towards the living room. Which was always surprisingly clean. It was early enough, she figured Luke would be asleep for several more hours, especially with how drunk he was towards the end of the night.

She walked into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee, it wasn’t the first time she would wake up before Luke and make herself at home. Luke would be more upset if he found out she stayed in bed waiting for him to wake up to get ready for the day.

She leaned back against the counter as she watched the Kurig pour into the small red mug. Her mind wandered around the words Luke said last night. There was no way Luke would remember everything he said. 

Maybe he would remember some of it but she was convinced he didn’t. She barely had time to spend with him as a friend let alone the effort a relationship has to have.

She couldn’t put that effort in right now, but was he genuine with saying he would wait? She didn’t want a relationship until after school, she still had a year and a hlaf left.

She took the cup from the Kurig and she secured it with both of her hands as she wandered towards the couch. 

It was another hour of her scrolling on her phone and finishing her cup of coffee when Luke stumbled out of the room. His hair was slightly messy but he did not look worse for wear. He stood at the start of the hallway, watching her for a moment.

Lifting her gaze she saw him standing there, she brought her hand towards her chest as she giggled. “Scared the hell out of me,” she muttered.

“Sorry,” he let out as he walked towards her. He sat down beside her, keeping a whole cushion between them. 

They stayed silent for a moment as they let the awkward tension fill the air. 

She swallowed hard as she delicately placed the mug onto the coffee table, “So, how hungover are you?” she questioned, trying to break some of the tension.

He chuckled as he ran his hand across his chin, “Actually not that bad,” he mumbled. She nodded as she kept her gaze towards her lap. He pressed his lips together as he took another deep breath, “I’m waiting,” he let out as he tilted his head to the side. She furrowed her eyebrows. He smirked as he looked into her eyes. 

“Oh, yeah, that conversation we had last night; that you swore I wasn’t going to remember. I remember every word-well okay, not every word but I remember it all-most of it. So-um I guess it’s-yeah you’re turn,” he ranted.

She smiled as she continued to look into his eye as she took in a sharp breath as she stood up from the couch and walked towards him. Standing over him, she started to climb into his lap. He leaned back, cautiously hovering his hands in the air. 

“I don’t know about a relationship,” she began as she rested her hands on the base of his neck, her thumbs grazing the side of his neck briefly. “But I’ve been dying to kiss you,” she muttered. He smiled as she leaned towards him, kissing him urgently.

The kiss was electrifying as Luke finally rested his hands onto her hips. Leaning into him, the kiss was everything that either of them were waiting for. 

“Yet,” she muttered against his lips.

“What?” he mumbled as he leaned towards her, desperate to feel her lips against his again. She returned the kiss for a few seconds before she pulled away.

“Can you wait a little longer?” she mumbled against his lips.

“Can we at least do this?” he pleaded. She leaned towards him kissing him urgently, pulling his bottom lip into her mouth as she ran her fingers through his hair. 

They stayed in that position for a long time as they were enjoying being that close to one another. It didn’t matter that Jack was probably on his way back or that friends with benefits was always a bad idea or that anything in between friends and lovers was a horrible idea. Right now all that mattered was that their lips were connected and that they both felt the same.

[charliemwrites]

Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:

Part 1 here

No Content Warnings

Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.

“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”

He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.

He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.

“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”

Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.

“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”

He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).

“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.

He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.

“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”

You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”

He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.

“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”

“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”

He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.

“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”

“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.

You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.

—

Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.

Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.

That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.

Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).

There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.

And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.

He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.

Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.

All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.

(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.

“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.

You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”

“Cheers, luv.”)

There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.

Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.

You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.

“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”

“MacTavish,” Price snaps.

That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.

“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”

“Thought I told you?” Price says.

“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”

He blinks. “Scheduling app.”

You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”

You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[angel5ofp0rn]

Young!Price x f!younger!reader

where u and ExHusband!Price first meet 🤭

TW (?) age gap. legal (21&30-something), but still an age gap

got a lil lazy at the end; just a dash of secks

“Jus’ one more.” You giggle to your friends, making your way through the crowd and over to the bar.

Another one more.

The bartender shakes his head when you approach.

For the fourth time.

“What’ll it be this time, kid?”

“Dunno,” You shrug animatedly. You giggle again, your cheeks warm from the alcohol. “How about…”

You turn to one of the men sitting at the bar.

“What’re you drinking?” You point a manicured finger at a tall, balaclava-wearing man with dark eyes.

He glances towards you for just a moment before looking straight ahead again, mumbling a “whiskey” under his breath.

“Eww.” You scrunch your nose. “No, not that.”

You lean over a bit, hands on the bar, looking past the scary masked man and to the man next to him.

The… gorgeous, blue eyed, clean shaven man next to him.

“What’re- whoa.” Your eyes widen for a moment. “You’re, like… whoa.”

The man exhales a small, slightly amused chortle.

“Would you, like, ‘scuse us?” You ask the scarier man.

He stares you down for a moment.

You blink, waiting for him to move.

“F’r fuck’s sake…” The big guy grumbles, standing up from the barstool and disappearing somewhere in the bar.

You happily hop onto the stool once he’s gone.

You extend your arm to the gorgeous man, your tipsiness making you more fearless than usual.

“Hi. It’s m’birthday.”

“Is it, now?” His smooth, English voice drawls out as he shakes your hand.

“Mhm!” You nod, your grin growing.

The man nods, seemingly amused with your young, drunk self.

“Are you, like, an army guy or something?” You ask, glancing up and down at him in his fatigues.

He snorts.

“I am an army guy or something.” He confirms. “John Price.”

“John Price…” You tilt your head to the side, your long hair falling over your exposed shoulder in that tiny going out top you decided to wear.

“Price is cute. Y/N Price sounds good, right?” You ask aloud, not really to anyone in particular.

“Already planning on taking my last name, are you?” He raises his eyebrows at you, entertained by all of this.

Women come up to him all the time. Can’t really go anywhere without a few flirting with him, batting their eyelashes, playing coy about how badly they want to fuck a man in uniform.

But they’re never this bold.

Usually not this young, either.

You’re a good ten years younger than him, at least; the hell do you want with him?

“Y’know,” You continue, ignoring his question. “You have the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

He smirks.

“Y/N!” Your girl friend calls out, waving you over to her from across the room. “Let’s go dance!”

“Oh!” You grab John’s bicep. “I love dancing. Come dance with us!”

John shakes his head, dismissing the idea.

“Don’t dance.” He takes a swig of his beer. “But, eh… Kyle here-“ He pats the shoulder of another, younger, man on the right side of him. “-Kyle likes to dance. Don’t ya, Gaz?”

“I don’ wanna dance with him.” You shake your head with a frown.

“He’s a handsome young lad.” John continues talking up his buddy as if he’s a car salesman trying to sell you the Buick. “Why don’t you-“

You cut him off, rolling your eyes as if that was the dumbest suggestion you’ve ever heard.

“What’f I dance with Kyle and he r’lly likes me?” You slur a bit.

Kyle grins.

John snorts.

“Then he likes ya.”

“No!” You groan.

Drunken you really resembles a fussy toddler.

“I don’ want Kyle’s babies, I want your babies.”

John laughs.

Kyle chokes on his drink.

“You wanna have my babies, eh?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod confidently. “I wan’ a hundred blue-eyed babies tha’ look Just. Like. You.” You poke his chest in sync with the last three words.

John raises his eyebrow at that, taking another sip of his beer.

Your friends pull you to the dance floor by your arm.

You stumble off with them, looking back at John Price and what’s-his-name.

The men don't even glance back at you once you're gone.

They just laugh it off and continue chatting.

But you? You're not giving up that easily.

You let yourself be distracted for a while; dancing, shots, bathroom selfies, whatever.

But when you see John standing up from the bar, slapping some cash down for the bartender and heading towards the exit; you follow.

"John!" You grin, arms outstretched for a hug once you meet him in the parking lot.

"Christ, you're persistent, aren't ya?" John rubs his hand over his jaw.

Your arms hook around his neck, stumbling into him. He places his hands on your waist, steadying you so you don't completely fall.

“Can’t help it,” you sigh. “I go after what I want.”

You tilt your head back to see those crystal blues that made you talk to him in the first place.

John takes a step back, gently disentangling himself from your embrace. His expression is a mix of amusement and something else…

Perhaps a hint of concern.

That’s fair; you’ve just drunkenly followed a strange man outside at night.

"You're a bit too young for me, sweetheart," he says softly. "I think you should go back inside and enjoy the rest of your birthday with your friends."

"But I like you," you protest, your arms crossing over your chest.

He sighs, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I appreciate the sentiment, love, but it's best if you forget about me. I'm not the right guy for ya."

Your lower lip juts out. A proper pout.

“Ah, c’mon. Don’t give me that.” John chortles, crossing his own arms over his chest now. “Look, this isn’t what you want. Tomorrow mornin’… you’re gonna wake up without a single thought of me in your pretty li’l head.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You ask, missing the point completely.

John looks as if he could laugh, but he doesn’t.

“I do.” John nods curtly. “I think you’re fuckin’ beautiful… but you’ve had too much to drink, haven’t you? Why don’t you let me get you an Uber, at least. Make sure ya get some safe ‘n sound.”

You reluctantly accept his offer, standing by his side as the two of you wait for your rides.

Ride.

Because you might as well share one, right?

And once you get to your place, he might as well walk you up.

You’d just be plain rude if you didn’t invite him in; he’d be a jerk if he didn’t accept the invitation.

Sure, he’ll help you remove your heels, but then he really should get going.

But then your hand touches his face when his head is near your knees.

He looks up. You rub your thumb over his jaw.

“Look-“

“‘m jus’ looking at you.”

He really, really should get going.

“Stay with me.” You beg.

“I can’t stay with you, love. I’ve gotta go now.”

He pulls the covers over you, brushes the hair away from your face, he has you text your friends to let them know you’re okay, and he’s gone…

…until the next morning, when he knocks on your door bright and early because, wouldn’t you know it, he accidentally took your phone home and he’s here to return it.

(He totally didn’t pocket it so he’d have an excuse to see you again.)

Since you’re both awake and have no plans, you might as well go to breakfast, right?

“I’m not going anywhere.” You groan, rubbing your puffy eyes.

“Go on. Get showered.” He sits on your sofa, hands folded behind his head. “I’ll wait.”

You didn’t even make it to breakfast.

Ended up having him pull over behind some trees along the way, straddling him in the driver’s seat, bouncing on his thick cock while he murmured praises about how well you’re taking him.

<< prev next >>

[blvdheart]

TIARAS AND TEACUPS

→ just some fluffy drabbles and headcanons on leon being a girl dad

NOTE: listen i don’t even want kids in the future but for this man?? if he was real and mine then trust i would change my mind real quick ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

this is pretty short, less than 1k words hehe

i.

Leon would never hear the end of it from his coworkers if they saw him like this. There was a plastic tiara with fake pink jewels resting atop his hair. He was sitting criss cross applesauce, for he was a little too big to sit on the tiny chairs his daughter had placed her plushies on.

“Daddy, here’s your cup!” She chimed happily, placing a small toy teacup right in front of him.

“Thank you princess, it’s a pretty set.” His hand could easily cover the entire cup, but to be graceful, he held the handle with his thumb and forefinger. “What’s on the menu?”

“Brownies and…and cookies.” She had a small container of them, having gotten some from the batch you baked the other night. “I’m gonna go get mommy, make sure Mrs. Teddy doesn’t drop her tea!”

Leon looked so out of place, but he was happy, watching with a smile as his daughter ran out of the room to go get you. And surely enough, you joined the tea party a couple minutes later, a matching headpiece on your head and your daughter giggling as she tugged you by the hand and took you to where she wanted you to sit.

You couldn’t help but stifle back a laugh when you saw Leon, and he seemed to catch on, grinning at you. “Look who’s late.”

“Fashionably late.” You corrected him as you pointed at your crown, taking a seat on the floor.

“Yay all my guests are here! I’ll hand out the food but don’t eat without me, okay?”

Leon was always emotional when he was in the same room as the two people he treasured the most.

He could still remember when his daughter was just a newborn baby. He almost broke down that day as soon as he heard her first cries, he never thought he’d get the blessing of parenthood.

ii.

If there’s one thing about Leon as a dad, it’s that he really has no backbone when it comes to his adorable daughter. Lecturing wasn’t his strong suit, he just wanted to spoil her. Thankfully, she didn’t have a knack for finding trouble so he didn’t have to worry all that much.

Here Leon was opening the letter he had gotten from his daughter’s elementary school, skimming through it only to see all the positive commentary the homeroom teacher had left. He was a proud father, and he took her on a trip to the store so she could pick out something nice.

“Don’t worry your little head about the price, okay? You deserve something special, you’re doing so well at school.” He gave her head a gentle pat, staying close behind her energetic form as she scanned the aisle for toys.

Toys. Great. Leon was sure he would sob when his little girl started asking for electronics and cosmetics. God, how he wished these years didn’t fly by so quickly. He had to make the most of them.

“Anything? Even a scooter?”

“Uh huh, even a scooter. Want one?”

“Yeah they’re awesome! Can we go look at them? I wanted to ask for one last Christmas but it was really cold so I wouldn’t have even been able to play outside much to use it. But it’s almost summer now so it would be nice and…”

She continued rambling on and on while Leon smiled happily. He held her hand and walked her over to where the scooters and bikes were.

Though he was a little concerned. What if she fell one day and scraped her knee? Or what if she hit her ankle with the scooter? Worst pain ever. Either way, he’d have to buy her a helmet and some knee pads.

Being a dad was kinda stressful.

iii.

Leon would try to be there for major milestones as much as possible. Yeah, sometimes he couldn’t be there because of the spontaneity of his demanding job, but he made sure to make everything worthwhile when he was present.

Whenever her birthday came up, he’d let Sherry babysit her for a few hours so she wouldn’t be at the house while you and him were decorating the place.

“Our little girl is growing up so fast. She’s already wanting to sit in the passenger seat, can you believe that?”

“You big ol’ softie.” You laughed a bit at his sulking, but you felt the same way, going over to hug him and comfort him. He held your hips, nuzzling against the crook of you neck. He loved you so much, he’d know nothing about happiness without you.

“I think I finally understand what the adults in my life would say when I was younger.”

“And what’s that?”

“That when you’re a parent, your children don’t really get older in your eyes. Yeah she’s about to turn ten but…she’s still our baby girl. I feel like she’s still three.”

HEADCANONS

𐙚 Leon would definitely be the type to look up some tutorials on YouTube so he could learn how to do his daughter’s hair. Doesn’t matter if it’s straight, wavy, or really curly. He’ll get all the products and get as much practice as possible

𐙚 For bedtime stories he’d just make up child friendly versions of his missions. B.O.W’s would become dragons, he’d be some sort of knight, and the setting would be a magical forest instead of some isolated and creepy location. And of course there’d be a happily ever after. In a way, this also helps him cope with his experiences

𐙚 Even in a modern world where cards are used more than cash (much to his dismay), he carries around lots of quarters just in case his daughter wants to get something out of a sticker or candy vending machine

[capitanoidyll]

Cracking open a book while using your little reading light, you hoped that the flicker of it wouldn't disturb your seatmate too much as you felt the plane jolt forward, the engines slowly revving up as it began to take off down the runway.

"You need the overhead light, love?"

Jumping a little at the little tap on your shoulder, you glanced to your seatmate, "o- oh, uhm, no. I'm good. Thank you, though."

He took a glance at the title when you held it up a little. A smile gracing his lips, "you like the book so far?"

"W- well, i like it, but it's not one of my favorites... I actually like a different book from this author way more."

The man hummed as he leaned back in his chair, "which one?"

You gave the title, your voice a little meek, a little quiter and less confident than a few moments prior. Almost as if you were trying to see if you gave the right answer or not to a question asked by a teacher.

"That's one of my favorites too. Which part of it did you like more?"

"Probably when the detective realized that the villain was playing around with him during the aquarium crime scene."

Chuckling softly at your response, he clasped his hands in his lap, "i can definitely see why that would be good, and love, I didn't catch your name."

You gave it to him, your face slightly heating up, "and you," you managed to ask.

He held out his hand for you to take, which you hesitantly reached for. His hold was firm, surprising you slightly, "it's John Price."

Now, with a name to a face, you found yourself happily chatting away with him. The four hour flight seeming to fly by as you talked about your favorite books and whether or not you're going home or not.

Even when the plane landed, you found yourself wanting to talk to Price some more. (You also found yourself calling him Mr. Price, but it wasn't your fault! He was just older than you!)

"Here, let me."

When you had stood up (you had the aisle seat) to reach for your carry-on luggage, Price had offered to get it for you. Which you ended up letting him despite feeling a little bad for it.

"Thank you," you said, as you looked at him, but just as you did so it seemed the crowd of people wanted to get moving so you had to move along with them off the plane as Price got his own bag.

And just as you made it off the plane before him, you thought about waiting. Is it considered weird to wait for him? Biting the inside your cheek to pull over the thought, you felt someone tap you on the shoulder. And when you turned, you immediately grimaced at the one disturbing your thoughts.

A man with greasy, long hair tied into a low ponytail was shifting from foot to foot. His gaze was on you as he gave you a nervous smile.

"Hey, I thought I wouldn't see you again."

He was referring to when he saw you in the security line. Regrettably so, you think this is one of those times when someone gets an "airport crush" you just didn't think it would be happening to you...

"R- right. Well, it is good to see you too, but I need to get going."

"If you want," he started quickly before you could leave, his hand grabbing onto your wrist, "we could hangout this weekend, or maybe i could drive you home?"

"Oh, uhm, well-"

"She's with me."

The man holding your wrist was immediately forced to let go as you felt someone throw their arm over your shoulders and pull you back.

Looking up to see Price, you relaxed instantly in his hold, something that didn't go unnoticed by him as he gave your sholder a light squeeze.

"And I would very much appreciate it if you left her alone."

The man huffed, but got the memo as he readjusted the straps of his backpack on his shoulders and skulked away down the hall, most likely where the baggage claim area was along with the other people heading their as well.

"Sorry about getting handsy with you there, love," Price said as he took his arm off of you.

And before your brain could give a proper filter to your words, your mouth already said them, "i would rather have you touching me, then him."

You heard someone whistle off to the side, "aye Captain, you going to let that remark slide?"

Glancing over, you noticed three others.

'Captain?'

"Don't mind them, love, they don't know how to keep their noses out of my business."

"He has a point though," you wondered where you managed to get the courage, but pushed the thought aside, "are you going to let what I said slide?"

[moonstruckme]

Idk if you’re still taking requests for your bake sale (which is the cutest idea btw) but if you are… apple pie, prompt number 31 with Steve? (three people sat on a two-seater sofa)

I was! This probably wasn't what you had in mind but I thought it would be silly so here you go :)

cw: alcohol

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 693 words

“Stay still.” Steve’s voice is low, a smile teasing his lips. “I’ve almost got it.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but your own smile is just as poorly repressed. You still love it when he flirts with you. Even when you’re at one of his friend-of-a-friend’s parties where everyone wants to talk with him, Steve only has eyes for you. 

“I don’t know how you missed it the first three times.” 

“Does it seem like I’m fucking around? It’s tricky, babe.” 

“Seems like you might be fucking around a little bit…” you tease.

Steve swipes at something under your eye. “Got it. What’d I tell you?” 

You beam at him. “Okay, I take it back. My hero.” 

His grin widens, but he squints at your face. “Yeah, except now you’ve got makeup on your cheek. Sorry.” 

“Really.” You frown, wiping at where he’d touched with your finger. It must have smeared your mascara. “Can you get it off?” 

“Yeah, just a sec, you’ve gotta make a wish first.” Steve holds up his finger in front of you, your eyelash balanced on its tip. 

You roll your eyes again, but neither of you are buying that you’re anything other than totally besotted with him. You inhale, holding your wish in your head. 

You blow the lash harder than you mean to when you’re jostled from behind. 

Steve frowns over your shoulder. The guy behind you has found a new and innovative way to make out with his girlfriend, him leaning over the edge of the couch and her on the beanbag below. The two of them set up camp long after you and Steve had been sitting on this couch, and the limited space means he occasionally bumps you in his enthusiasm. 

“We should move,” Steve says, not for the first time. 

“No way,” you reply again. “We were here first.” 

“This couch wasn’t made for three people.” 

You huff, irritated. “Yeah, but all the other seating is taken.” 

“I’ll get us a nice patch of carpet,” he bargains. “We’ll treat it like a picnic.” 

You shake your head. You know you’re being stupid, but it’s the principle of the thing. You want the guy who’d squeezed onto your couch to have to share it with you. “It’s not fair that we have to be the ones to move,” you say. 

Steve sighs, but his expression is fond. “Fine. At least swap places with me.” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Your funeral,” you say, but you scoot into the spot he leaves vacant when he stands.

Steve presents a stronger front than you had, sitting up instead of leaning away from where the other guy is infringing upon his space. 

“Alright, c’mere,” he says, reaching for you. “Let me get your makeup.” 

You lean forward happily. Steve uses the condensation from his beer to wet his thumb, rubbing at your cheek concentratedly. It’s then that your couch companion chooses to sit up. Evidently, he really had forgotten he was sharing the couch with two other people, because he knocks right into Steve, causing your boyfriend to lurch forward and for a bit of his beer to spout over the lip of the bottle and into your laps. 

You press a hand over your mouth, laughing, while Steve expels an incredulous breath. 

The guy looks back as though surprised to find him there. “Sorry, man.” He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, wandering off. 

“Quick,” you urge, “scoot back!” 

When Steve doesn’t move fast enough, you get up and move behind him, taking up the other side of the couch and stretching out your legs so there’s no space for anyone else. 

“What an ass.” Steve still looks in shock. 

“At least we held down the fort,” you say gleefully. “We won in the end.” 

“We won?” He laughs. “You’ve got beer on your pants, baby.” 

You shrug, ignoring the cold on your legs. “A small price to pay for victory.” 

Steve huffs, but he’s grinning, crawling across the couch to meet you. “You are so—” he kisses you firmly “—stubborn.” 

“Mhm, yeah. Now get back in your place before somebody takes it.” 

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 19

Moniker: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz Risk Level: Low. Brief: Airtight Safeword: Refer to first brief.

I know you had some idea who was in my team, but this is it, the four of us make up task force 141. We work incredibly well together sweetheart - Price

Can’t wait to get our cunts wrecked <3 - Soap

I’ll be on cameras just incase, but none of these men will hurt you (in ways you do not enjoy) - Ale

“Slower.”

“I can’t go any slower!” you snapped back in frustration, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes.

Ghost smacked your ass in warning for speaking to Price like that and you could die from how it made your pussy tighten around his cock. You were straddled on top of him, slowly sinking down on his dick. Too slow. Tortuously slow. And Price kept telling you to go slower.

You wanted to just drop your weight, be so full of him that you could feel him in your lungs. But Price was in charge and you did not think disobedience with him came at the cost of a well spanked arse. No, he had watched you be spanked before, he knew how you enjoyed it. He had watched so much of what you had done, knew your body in that intimate way that you knew the people you had been tasked with getting intel on. Better than themselves and to a level that would likely horrify them if they ever knew.

So it wouldn’t be a spanking if you sank down on that gloriously thick cock. You suspected it would be the exact fucking you needed but without being allowed to actually get off the entire time. So you fought every instinct you had to just take it all in your greedy pussy and tried to go slower even though it was driving you insane.

If you were paying better attention you'd have noticed how Price and Ghost kept eyes pinned to the bandages on your ribs, making sure the cuts had been superficial and weren't about to cause you trouble.

“Behave luv” Gaz said, sweet and kind and like he was looking for you to sink your teeth into his fucking throat.

You glowered at him but the heavy weight of Ghost’s hand squeezing your ass kept you from snapping. It was easy for Gaz to tell you to behave given he was currently balls deep in Soap’s cunt while Soap drooled onto the bed, face down arse up and panting happily at the railing he was getting.

“Aye, behave. Fuck, Captain make her play with her fat clit, spank her arse more, spit in her mouth, oh fuck!” Soap babbled through getting the air pounded out of him by Gaz’s hard and heavy thrusts.

"Settle Tav" Gaz said, punctuated by a smack to Soap's ass that had you keening pathetically, blinking big puppy dog eyes at Price.

He sighed and ran his knuckles across your cheek. Nikto was a maniac yes but he knew his way around a body with a blade. Price had tended those cuts himself, he knew they were done right to not do permanent damage and that they were being overly cautious.

“Go ahead Lieutenant.”

“You’re going soft Captain” Ghost replied.

And then he sunk his fingers into your hips and speared up into you in one smooth, violent thrust.

“Oh fuck, yes! T-thank you Captain, thank you sir!”

“Going soft might not be the right term for it Ghost” Gaz chuckled, eyeing Price’s hard cock twitching up and leaking at the sight of you going brainless.

Gaz let up on Soap’s hips when he started to desperately shuffle in some lewd version of a cock filled army crawl towards you and Ghost. He shuffled on his knees along with him, each thrust pushing him further forward as he really put momentum and weight behind it.

You were still catching your breath and getting used to being skewered on Ghost’s cock given that he had stilled entirely to sit deep inside you when Soap’s head flopped onto your thigh and he started to desperately mouth at it.

There was a decision then. Could you really let yourself go the way he did, just fully descend into being a creature of purely pleasure with no shame, no embarrassment or ego? Even with the other three men around you who would keep their heads, would probably coo at you and make fun of how far gone you were?

But then Price’s hand came to scratch at Soap’s mohawk affectionately and he gave a happy little whine about it.

“Feels good Captain. Want tae taste her proper.”

“Not stopping you Johnny, get your face in that pretty cunt” Ghost said and Price confirmed by giving another little scratch.

Gaz easily moved around to facilitate Soap’s chin resting on Ghost’s pubic bone so he could lap at your clit.

Yes. Fuck the way they treated him sent a rush through you, a longing. You wanted that. You wanted to just let go and know they would catch you, let them use your body while your brain just switched off anything but sensation and want. In that moment it went from a humiliating and horrific concept to something freeing.

You let go.

“More, please! Please please! Ghost need you to ruin my pussy, want it so much. Captain, sir, daddy please touch me!”

They were happy to comply. Ghost started to move your hips to have you bounce on his cock while Price’s hands ran up your belly to come fondle your tits, his chest pressed against your back and his prick throbbing against your ass. Soap was messy between your legs, unbothered that he was being battered by the wet slap of your pussy sinking down on Ghost over and over again.

“Ye look so fuckin’ pretty like this. Want tae climb inside and never leave.”

“Suck, please Soap!”

He started sucking your clit, struggling to move along with you to keep latched on. Gaz groaned from the extra stimulation from Soap’s body frantically shifting to keep up.

“Fuuuck, you sure we can handle two of them?” he said with the edge of a manic laugh.

“Buckle up Gaz, we’re going to fuck them until they tap out or we’re going to die trying” Price said in a gruff command as he went to go reach for the lube.

You whined loudly when he took hands off of you and he just swore under his breathe and got one hand back kneading your tit to keep you happy and stretched the other to grab the lube. Simon laughed underneath you and the sound make your cunt clench around him, you liked his laugh.

“Little slut” he said, the degrading words dripping with fond affection.

There was no more guilt, no feeling like the words shouldn’t rile you the way they did. You were his little slut and you loved that, you loved him using your body as a toy to bring him pleasure.

“Yes, yes more!” you cried out as he kept fucking you and Soap kept drooling all over your clit and catching it with his teeth from desperation and Price had one hand tugged and pinching your nipple while he popped the lube cap with his teeth so he could start prodding at your puckered hole and Gaz, beautiful, gorgeous, sunshine Gaz leaned over Soap’s body to shove his tongue past your teeth to dominate yours.

So much and not enough. Never enough. More more more. Price worked his fingers in and out and you tried to beg him for more around Gaz’s tongue. Even when his cock pushed in, the stretch of him in your ass while Ghost was still in your cunt impossible, you wanted more.

“Fuckin’ Christ! Take it you stupid slut, you fucking love it don’t you? Love being stuffed overfull with big cocks in your sloppy holes, going to beat that pussy up until it's fuckin' ruined” Ghost growled.

“Doing so well sweetheart, such a warm arse for me to sink into, nice and tight and squeezing me perfectly” Price cooed almost immediately after.

They pounded you like a ragdoll between them. Soap was crushed when Price pushed you down to Ghost’s chest so he could grab your hips and have more leverage to shove his cock in and out. You whined when Soap was moved, practically growled when Gaz pulled away.

His cock replaced his tongue and you dove in as much as you could from where you were sandwiched, needing your throat to be full, needing to feel them everywhere. Every so often his cock would slip out to rest on your cheek so you could tangle your tongue with Soaps who was busy at Gaz’s ass, rimming him out. And then when he lost patience he'd smack his thick cock hard against your face until you took him again.

Everything was wet and you were dripping with sweat but none of it mattered, you just needed it.

The first orgasm never seemed to stop. The clench of your body around the cocks pistoning in and out just caused more pleasure, another wave. Their moans and the fingers sinking into you were delicious, you loved making them feel this way.

You thought you may never be satisfied, that your thirst would never be quenched as you fucked and fucked and fucked and you still needed more.

And then finally it was enough. Price was beneath you, his cock squelching in and out of your pussy. Behind you was Ghost sharing your ass with Gaz who was squatted over you. Three cocks in your holes, ruining you. And then Soap grabbed your head, wrenched it as much out of the sandwich you were in as he could so he could fuck your skull, his soaked cock a welcome intrusion as he ground his cunt against your face.

"Captain I can't hold it, need to cum in this thick arse" Gaz hissed, the stimulation from your tight channel, Price's cock thrusting against his and the feel of Ghost's through that thin barrier all too much.

"Be a good girl sweetheart, strangle our cocks and we'll give you what you want."

"She couldn't stop it happening if she tried, little slut is gagging for us. Drown her pup, I've not given her leave to scream so you'll need to keep the bitch quiet."

The final orgasm had everyone moaning in chorus as your body strangled them all, finally full and wanting their cum deep inside. You barely felt the flood, your body spent and your screams muffled by Soap's sopping wet cunt. Their cocks kept pounding to get to their own completion and then pulled out to leave you leaking with cum and lube and spit and arousal. Soap kept humping your face even as you collapsed onto Price’s chest, even as he came and squirted into your mouth.

“Fuck sweetheart, absolute bloody perfection” Price grumbled quietly, rubbing your back as he panted. “Gaz, our boy still has some brain cells left.”

Gaz’s cock did not have the energy to fuck Soap again, but he yanked him away from you so he could feast on his puffy, abused cunt. You were floating, vaguely aware that as you made little noises of contentment against Price’s chest that Gaz and Ghost worked together with tongues, fingers and fists to finally wear Soap out enough so he could collapse down next to you.

Price gently extracted himself to stand and watch next to Ghost and Gaz as you and Soap, barely coherent, clumsily tangled together and kissed.

“Think they broke my dick Captain” Gaz said as he slumped against Price’s side, knackered.

“You’ll live” Price laughed.

He gave a hand signal to the camera and soon after Ale came to scoop up your exhausted body, smiling at the pathetic little whine you gave over being separated from Soap. But everyone was ruined, they weren’t going to be able to look after the two of you properly in this state. Plus Soap hadn’t stayed worn out for long, the boy was already fingering himself again, begging for you back.

Looked like Ghost had a long night ahead because Price had to go get Gaz fed and cleaned up. There was a slight undercurrent of discontent about you being taken away by someone else from his entire team which made him sigh.

10 more days and then you’d be gone.

At least if Price kept his word.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Bonus Part — Fin x Reader.

Summary: A reimagining of how things would have gone if Reader had decided she wanted Fin — despite him being her friend’s father.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Heavy on the smut. 18+, minors dni. Some jealous and possessiveness. Mentions of forbidden relationships/affairs. If the choices Reader makes in this are something you’re against, I urge you not to read! 🫶🏻

Rita’s is like no other place you’ve been — or seen — before.

Is this what you’ve missed out on, trapped within the frozen maw of Windhaven? There is no place like this there, of such vibrancy and euphoria. The music, the coloured faelights, the energy — it all makes you feel…on top of the world.

Like there’s life outside the misery you’ve known.

Mor knocks a shot back, grimacing as she slams the empty glass onto the bar. A sudden burst of giggles leaves her as she says, “My father would have my head if he could see me right now. Literally.”

You don’t doubt that for a second, because Mor looks resplendent, not just in her natural beauty, but her joy. She has danced and drank and kissed and danced some more. And seeing her like this…it makes you glad that she convinced you to come out with her tonight.

“My father would have my head, too,” you tell her over the music. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

At that, she rolls her eyes, and she reaches for two more shots. “Here’s to saying fuck the males,” she knocks her glass against yours. “May they all perish.”

You’ll happily drink to that. With the alcohol that has you in its grip, you’re buzzed on thoughts of storming back to Windhaven and confronting all your demons. Confronting anyone and everyone who has ever hurt you and made you feel less than you are. Your father. Lord Devlon. Azriel—

You banish that thought as the liquid slides down your throat with a satisfying burn. You are in Velaris, not Windhaven. A new place with new people, where anything feels possible. The thought is heady and dizzying.

Someone calls Mor’s name, and she glances over her shoulder, her beautiful eyes lighting up again. You truly don’t know how often she’s able to escape the Hewn City and get away to Velaris, but judging by the amount of friends she’s introduced you to tonight, she’s certainly made her mark here.

“Let’s go dance with them!” Mor yells over the music, grabbing your hand.

You think that dancing might be the answer to everything you’ve never known, and so you gladly follow; gladly throw yourself into the thrall of the busy floor.

But that’s when you see him.

Something…some deep power…compels you to look up. Coaxes your eyes to that area a level above, where the city’s VIP guests spend copious amounts of money on copious amounts of alcohol and drink it from their cushy velvet booths. They’re reserved for associates of the High Lord, a not-so-formal place to meet to discuss not-so-casual things.

But none of that matters. There could be an entire circus up there right now, and still all you would notice is — him.

He notices you, too.

The High Lord’s eyes zero in on you from up above. You watch, rooted to the spot, as he takes in the sight of you, from your braided back hair, to your painted face, your dress and the legs exposed by them. He looks like…like he’s finally setting his sights upon an image that was merely fantasy up until now.

He braces his arms on the balustrade. And he just stares.

You want to know what he’s doing here. Whether he’s at Rita’s for business or…or for pleasure. You’ve heard that there are rooms upstairs for people willing to pay the price. Perhaps there’s a lover up there with him somewhere, waiting to explore every last inch of that glorious, sculpted body—

The bleating jealousy that makes your heart twist is…unexpected. And not ideal; not one bit.

He is Rhysand’s father. Things may have been fucked up royally with Azriel, and you may have been burned by the experience — but Fin is Rhysand’s father.

Your friend’s father.

Your friend’s father who has just so happened to help keep you feeling alive these past weeks. With his layers-deep allure, the sweet, sweet words that roll off his tongue. His hospitality, his generosity. His kindness. All of it, you’d attributed to him being a natural charmer, a High Lord who knows precisely what to say, what to do.

It strikes you in that moment — just how much it’s all sunk its way into your bones and made you feel…dangerous.

He watches you like a cat with a mouse. Watches as somebody grabs your hand and yanks you into the tightly knit dancing bodies. The music pulses through you from head to toe, a frenzied tune of strings and keys that somehow come together to create the feeling of being borne aloft. Being on top of the world.

As you become lost to the sensation of dance, you’re glad to forget all your thoughts about Fin. You don’t want to wonder what he’s doing here. You don’t want to imagine what those strong, rough hands might get up to, where they might venture.

You become sandwiched between two males who dance with you in a way that makes you forget your wings were ever stolen. They touch you and touch each other, and you welcome it all, happy to be someone, somewhere, else. At least for a while.

But there’s suddenly a foreign touch to your shoulder. That of a cold, meaty hand that stills your movements and draws your attention. The two males happily slink away and begin grinding on each other, and you spin on the spot to find a tall, stocky male who looks like he punches people in the face for the hell of it.

“Y/N?” He checks, and you nod. “The High Lord wishes to speak with you. Upstairs.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes searching for Mor and finding her just as she’s following a male and female to a cloaked-off area at the back. That’ll be her occupied for the remainder of the night. You’re officially going solo.

But not for long. Not as the bouncer juts his chin in the direction of the staircase and begins to lead you there. Perhaps it makes you a fool, but you follow without a word.

He pulls back a rope and gestures for you to go on up, and then he’s refastening it behind you and turning back to train a keen eye on the dance floor. It’s purely the alcohol that hits you with enough of an ego to climb those stairs like you belong amongst the chandeliers and velvet booths.

But you look good — amazing, even. You know you do. And looking like this, things like scars and other insecurities seem so trivial. You’ve taken back the right to feel as beautiful as you are. You wear your Illyrian features proudly, and you’re pretty and lithe and graceful—

And your heel catches on the top step of the staircase, almost sending you sprawling to the floor — if not for the warm hand that catches your elbow.

“Easy.” Fin rasps into your ear, setting you steady on your feet.

Your numbed, inebriated senses are not immune to the effect of his voice, it would seem. The deep baritone, rough as jagged rock, pushes its way into your skin, your veins, and spreads far faster than any alcohol could.

“Pardon me, my Lord,” you answer, and you’re unable to shove down the hysterical giggle that claws up your throat. “Fuck, you’re the High Lord.”

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “And you are drunk.”

“The whiskey they serve here is immense.”

“I’ll be sure to extend your compliments to Rita herself.”

Is that, you wonder, who he’s up here meeting? Perhaps the elusive Rita is a close associate of his. Perhaps they do deals in both business and pleasure.

And taking in your fill of the High Lord right now, in a dark button-up shirt and fitted breeches of a slate grey, you would not blame Rita one little bit.

Gods, he’s exquisite. Rhysand may resemble Roza more than he does Fin, but…with two parents of such stunning beauty, it’s no wonder your friend is as handsome as he is.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you make no secret of the way your eyes linger on him. Tonight is dangerous, and you’re enjoying it.

“Nor I, you,” he narrows his gaze down at you. “Imagine my surprise, considering that when I left the palace earlier this evening, you were curled up in the library with a book. And yet, here you are. Wearing…” mahogany eyes take in the short cut of your dress, “…that.”

“Mor surprised me with a visit.”

“My niece ought to be more careful not to press her father’s buttons too much,” a muscle in his chiselled jaw ticks. “And I think you ought to be more careful not to push mine.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Bold. So foolishly bold of you. You’ll regret it once sober, you’re sure. “Was there a particular reason you summoned me up here, my Lord? I was rather enjoying dancing.”

“I noticed. And I’m taking you home.”

“What—”

Before you can even finish the word, Fin’s gripping your elbow again, and darkness sweeps you away.

Being winnowed while drunk is not a fun experience.

You feel the cosmic, air-light step from one place to another. Your stomach lurches, your head spinning. You can barely get a hold of yourself as you cling to Fin and prepare your feet to touch solid ground.

And then the darkness is gone, and you’re back in the toasty, warm glow of the palace’s library. Your knees buckle, trying to drag you to the floor, but Fin keeps you upright.

“What the…” you gawp up at him. “Why did you bring me home?”

He ensures you’re able to stand on your feet before pushing away from you. Doesn’t even look at you as he commands, “Get to bed.”

“I was enjoying myself.”

“Just as those males were enjoying you, too. You’re drunk and you need to sleep it off. Get to bed.”

He strides towards the door, his knuckles white from how hard he grips the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side. But sword or no, you refuse to give up so easily.

“No,” you say simply. “I will not.”

Fin stops. Goes still. And then he turns back to you.

His temper is clear on his face, but he doesn’t storm back over like you’re half expecting him to. Instead, his eyes shutter, and he seems to take a deep, soothing breath. When he’s looking at you once more, he flicks his wrist in your direction.

And immediately, gone is the haze of the alcohol.

Immediately, you’re completely lucid, completely steady on your feet. Not a lick of inebriation remains, as if you had, indeed, slept it off.

“Did you just sober me up?” you’re outraged by the mere idea.

“Yes.” Fin admits shamelessly. “Now you won’t fall victim to a hangover in the morning — a favour from me, to you, and I ask you in return to get to bed. And don’t even think about trying to venture back out. I’ll know.”

Your blood boils. And the anger isn’t simply because of your ruined fun, but because…because it stings, the way Fin is treating you with such contempt. Scolding you like you’re little more than a petulant child. He’s been nothing but wonderful since you came to Velaris, and yet now, he speaks to you like…like most of the males back in Windhaven do.

It makes you see red.

“What right have you to dictate how I spend my evening?” you snap. “I was under the impression that my free time is my own, and if I wish to go and get drunk and dance like a fool, that is up to me.”

Cold, beautiful anger hardens Fin’s face. He stalks closer, squeezing the hilt of that sword so, so tightly. “What right have I? This is my home. My city. My court. I am your High Lord, and you choose to behave in such a way when I’ve opened my home to you and offered you refuge? When I’ve given you a place to run to and left my resources at your disposal?”

You rock back on the heels of your feet, staring at him. Every word lands a hit — as good as if he’d nocked them in a bow and fired them right at your heart. It stings. Gods, it stings. You want the careless oblivion of the alcohol back.

Because you grapple daily with the pain, the anxiety, of feeling unwanted. And you…you had begun to think that Fin actually cared for you. Actually enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.

You’d begun to care about his thoughts and feelings where you were concerned. And begun to believe that it wasn’t just the hospitality and courtesy that he would dole out to any runt on the street.

His eyes seem to track the way your expression changes, your shoulders slump. You swallow. The anger is replaced, simply, by hurt.

“If I am a burden, my Lord, I apologise,” you rasp. “I don’t intend to be one. I appreciate your generosity, and I…I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

You hope you can keep your tears at bay long enough to escape to your room. You’re pelted with shame, embarrassment, hurt. You step forward and hurry past the High Lord, desperate to book it out of there, to get to bed.

But his hand encloses around your wrist, tugging you to a stop. And he says, quietly, “wait.”

That hand on your wrist holds the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

You pin your gaze to the ground, unable to look at Fin. You hear him swallow.

“That isn’t—” his voice is gravelly. “I didn’t mean that.”

You don’t think you can speak. You remain a statue beneath his touch.

But so gently — such a contrast to the whirlwind of his actions before — he’s walking you backwards. Slow and careful. You feel your back hit the wall, and he lets go of your wrist and seems to curl his fists at his sides. There’s a desperation to the action that only then coaxes you to look up at him.

His expression is…pleading. For what, you’re not sure.

“You are the furthest thing from a burden,” he says, quietly, on an exhale. “Your presence here is very much welcomed, I assure you.”

You don’t dare breathe a word. Every last bit of your very sober courage is being thrown into maintaining eye contact. There’s none to spare for speaking.

But your lack of response seems to trouble Fin. His eyes rake over your face, searching for something. He swallows again.

And then his eyes shutter, and he whispers, “Mother above, what are you doing to me?”

You don’t know how to answer him — whether he’s even talking to you at all. He takes in a very slow, very deep breath, as though it’s the only thing that’s stopping him from…doing something. What, you’re not sure.

But you can feel it, sense it — the ferocity with which he’s swallowing down words and holding himself back. Like he wants so badly to say something, but can’t.

His eyes open, clearer than they were seconds before, and he says in a far gentler tone, “Get to bed, Y/N,” he inclines his head. “Sleep well.”

With tense, squared shoulders, he turns — and it’s you, this time, that stops him. You halt him with a hand on his arm, and you could swear you feel the muscles flex under his touch.

“Wait,” you say, not ready to let him go, not prepared to leave things between you like this. “Stay and talk with me for a while.”

His jaw clenches like he’s gritting his teeth. “That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why? We talk all the time, you and I. And there are clearly things you’re holding back from saying—”

Your words are cut short as he suddenly meets your gaze with the intensity of a blazing fire. You think it might burn you. You hope it will.

“It’s a bad idea,” he grounds out, gutturally, “not because of what I want to say. But because of what I want to do.”

“What—”

“You are my son’s close friend. You are Roza’s guest,” he tugs his arm out from under your hand. “You are far younger than I am. I am trying my hardest — I have been trying my hardest — to be a good male. And right now, a good male would take his leave and go to bed, so I bid you goodnight, Y/N.”

“Fin—”

“I hope you sleep well.”

“Fin,” you grab for him again. “What if I don’t want you to be a good male?”

Beneath your touch, he stops. Goes preternaturally still.

Words punch out of you with terrifying gall — and truth. “What if I want you to do those things—”

Quick as a flash, he’s pivoting, and he has the upper hand. Has you pressed so tightly up against the wall, his body boxing you in.

And gods, the feel of it might set you on fire. A brush of your hands, a kiss on the backs of your fingers — they’re nothing compared to the weight and press of his muscles against your body. You want your clothes to melt away, and his, too. You want your hands on his bare, hot skin.

“I don’t think you realise what you’re saying,” he growls.

“I do,” you breathe. “I am completely sober. Completely clear of mind. And I am telling you, Fin, I want you—”

A strangled noise is the only warning you get before the High Lord’s mouth is on yours.

The kiss is pure power. It passes from him, into you, roils through your veins and makes you feel like somebody remarkable. It’s the cloak of darkness and the kiss of sin. Of somebody capable of very, very bad things.

And it’s immediately addicting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to get enough.

You claw at his shirt, tugging him closer, closer, and his broad hands cup your face as his mouth devours yours.

This kiss…it’s been building. The need for it has been working its way beneath your skin for a while. All the heated glances, the late-night conversations. All the thoughts, in the dead of night, of what Fin might be doing in his own bed. Wondering whether he was thinking of you.

It’s so, so forbidden. So wrong. But it feels so godsdamn right.

And the way Fin’s tongue slides between your lips and strokes into your mouth — it tells you that he feels it, too.

Your hands glide from his waist, round to his back, and you yank him harder against you. So desperate are you to feel him. Feel what you think you do to him.

He makes another low noise. And then he’s tearing his mouth from yours. But he lingers close, your foreheads touching.

“Better than I’ve been imagining,” he pants, his hands still clutching your face. “Much better.”

“You’ve imagined kissing me?” You know he has.

“I have imagined,” his thumbs sweep your cheeks, “doing all sorts of things with you, Y/N. Things that would make even the most salacious of a person blush.”

Such a relief — to know that it’s not all just some wild fantasy you’ve cooked up in your mind. That you’re not just some wayward, longing young female who craves the affections of an older male to patch her deep wounds.

No, it’s not that. It’s desire. It’s need. And it burns inside your veins until you think you might erupt into flames.

“I’ve imagined them, too,” you say, without a lick of shame.

Once again, his eyes are shuttering. Once again, he takes that slow, steadying breath. And as you watch him do so, you can’t bear the thought of him still grappling with right and wrong. You can’t bear the thought of him squaring his shoulders and walking out of here, leaving your lips bruised, your body aching, your heart hurting. You can’t bear it—

“I want you to do those things,” you lift your chin, gaze unflinching. “I want you to touch me.”

Fin’s eyes reopen.

He stares at you.

His throat bobs.

You have never seen somebody look so wild, so ravenous. There is heat everywhere, in his stare and in his taut body. His eyes flick down to your lips.

That mere glance at them is the deciding factor, it would seem.

He growls, the sound not at all one you’ve ever heard from a person, and he yanks you up into his arms and kisses you again.

So naturally, your arms twine around his neck, your legs locking around his waist. You can feel the strength of him against you, in the way he holds you. You can taste his crackling power.

He doesn’t falter in the kiss nor his steps as he carries you away from the wall, and you’re suddenly being placed down on the library’s desk, sending books and parchment and pens and ink pots flying. They all clatter loudly to the floor, and neither of you care.

But Fin does pull away to look at you, and there’s wicked, boyish charm in his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitch up. He merely says, “Oops.”

You surge up and kiss him again.

He sighs into it, like your mouth is the answer to all his questions. And when heated hands land on your thighs, you part them, allow him to slot his body in between. The mere feel of it has you pushing up against him, finding him hard—

But again, he pulls away. He scans your face and rasps, “Tell me you’re sure.”

You do not balk from his intensity. From the fact that this is the fucking High Lord of your court, who was changing this world and building a reputation long before you were a mere thought in your parents’ minds. You do not balk from the fact that there are a million different reasons that this is wrong.

You think only about the fact that it feels right.

And that translates into your voice as you say, firmly, “I’m sure.”

You think you see the words course through his body. They change something — forever.

“This isn’t about Roza,” he breathes — breathes heavily, like it’s taking everything to tamp down on the desire to devour you then and there. To say what needs to be said.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Nor is it about Rhysand.”

“No.”

“It’s about me and you.” He destroys what little gap exists between your bodies, his hardness pushing through his breeches, right up against your centre. His hands brace on the desk, either side of you. “And gods, I want you, Y/N. I want you so much, I can scarcely bear it.”

“Have me,” is all you manage — before he strikes.

You think, hope, that his mouth might find yours again — but he’s barely brushing it before his lips settle on your jaw. His hands travel up your legs, fingers biting into the flesh. They find your hips, thumbs delivering explorative sweeps. They tug your dress up as they climb, exposing more of you to the warmth of the room. Exposing more skin that you know he wants to lay claim to.

And when the hem of your dress is ruched around your waist, you smile — at your little wildcard exposed. That he finds no underwear hiding what sits between your legs.

Your choice to forgo a pair seems almost foretelling, now — like some part of you knew the night would end like this, and you wanted to be ready.

Fin’s eyes dip to your slick, exposed cunt. The hunger in them is almost intimidating. You open your legs just a little wider—

But his rough hand is gripping your chin, almost hard enough to hurt. And he snarls deeply, “It drove me to madness — seeing those two males dancing with you. Touching you.”

Pleasure bolts down your spine, and from the way his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your arousal is consuming him.

“Did it?” you stare back at him, welcoming the discomfort of his brutal grip.

“I wanted them dead. I wanted to draw my sword and gut them for even looking your way. For touching what I want to be mine.”

That pleasure again — skittering over your skin. His words do something to you. You bite down on a moan.

“It is yours,” you tilt your chin up to him, smiling when he immediately glances to your lips. “Take it.”

“I warn you,” he lowers his face to yours, “I don’t like to share.”

“And I warn you, High Lord,” you watch as your words land, drawing a deep, raw scent from him. “Neither do I.”

With a growl, he snaps. The kiss he gives you is not slow or sweet. His hand continues to grip your face, and his mouth attacks yours, his tongue sliding between your lips. You can’t help your moan, this time, as his taste overpowers you — a taste that you can only describe as pure thunder.

But it ends too soon, as he begins to leave a trail of heated kisses and bites and sucks along your jaw, down your neck, your collarbones. Your head falls back, and the touches are like little zips of lightning — lightning cleaving through the night sky.

“Pretty dress,” he hums against your skin — and that’s all the warning you get before that dress is ripped apart. Torn to ribbons.

No part of you is left to Fin’s imagination.

He tears his mouth from you and steps back to drink you in.

Instinct roars at you to curl in on yourself and hide. To remember that you are scarred, and flawed, and not to the liking of many — including yourself, a lot of the time.

But something about Fin’s weighty, scorching stare stops you from moving a muscle.

You lift your chin and hide nothing as he takes his fill. His eyes travel a journey from the top of your head and down — down your face, your neck, your breasts. Down your stomach, your waist, your hips. Down to that fine dusting of hair on your pelvis that tracks a thin path to—

Fin drops to his knees with a low noise. His hands wrap around your legs and prise them further apart.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he levels his face with the very centre of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight.

The sight of the High Lord on his knees before you — on his knees for you.

As though he senses the direction of your thoughts, his eyes flick up, and he smiles.

And then he dives in.

His tongue wastes no time in sinking between your folds, licking a broad stripe right up the centre of you. At the first stroke, your head falls back, your arms wobbling where they’re braced on the desk.

“Look at me,” Fin growls. “Only me.”

His voice of pure High Lord power drags your eyes back to him. And thank the fucking Mother it does.

You see everything in the way he feasts on you. His tongue laps at your wetness, and it coats his lips, his chin, coats him in you. The damp heat of his tongue is liquid fire. It promises to scorch you, end you, and rise you anew like a phoenix from the ashes.

Your fingers sink into the strands of Fin’s hair and tug. Judging by the noise he makes, the way his pace picks up, you think he likes it.

He utterly fucking devours you, like he’s fought a centuries-long wait to do so. And whatever magic commands his mouth — you know you cannot possibly last against it.

“Oh, gods,” your moan breaks from you, hips bucking up. You think your voice might be loud, but you don’t care. “Fuck—Fin.”

It all happens at once — his name falling from your lips, the growl rumbling in his throat, the flicking of his tongue against your clit and the finger he plunges into you, curls inside you. Every part of it is lightning strikes to your veins, and you come apart, utterly break.

Your climax slams into you and steals your breath. You’re nothing but a gasping, panting, trembling shell. Your mind is somewhere else entirely.

With your head falling back, eyes pinned to the ceiling, chest heaving, you don’t catch the swiftness with which Fin stands, licking your wetness from his lips. With which his clothes are gone in a blink of an eye.

But then he commands, “Look at me.”

It’s the second time he’s said it. Your head lolls forward once more.

You swallow the breaths you’re still trying to get down. Try to stop your body fucking shaking.

But it’s no wonder it does, as you look at him.

Your High Lord is nothing short of exquisite. He is art. Your fantasies have done him no justice.

That golden skin of his seems to attract the glowing light of the room. It bathes him, but it does not steal the attention. It outlines every fine plane of his body, the sculpted muscles on show, the nicks of injuries that have scarred and silvered over time.

There is not a single part of him that isn’t pure, refined power. And when your gaze drops to below his waist…a shudder wracks through you.

His cock stands hard and leaking at the head. You watch, your mouth watering, as he wraps a hand around its length and gives a long stroke.

“Fin—”

“When you look at me like that,” he prowls closer, “there is no way I can consider this forbidden.”

He’s within reach. Your fingers inch towards him. You want to touch him, taste him—

But he curls a hand around yours and stops you in your tracks.

“Not tonight,” he says. Pure promise is laced within the words. “No playing tonight.”

As if he hadn’t just played with you. You want to protest, to get your fucking mouth around that considerable length, but his hand tightens around yours.

And then he’s flipping you over, so fast that you don’t have time to even register it. You land on your front, your belly and breasts pressed against the desk. Fin lays his palm against your back and drags it slowly down. And in the wake of his touch, he leaves kisses. Kisses to your shoulder, your back. They’re…soft. Tender.

“Have I disappointed you?” he murmurs against your shoulder, folding his body over yours. You don’t think it’s an accident that the head of his cock nudges that sweet area between your legs.

It’s all you can do to breathe, “I wanted to taste you.”

“And you will,” he drops the brush of a kiss to your skin. “But now is not time for that.”

You don’t need him to tell you what now is the time for. Not as his hands find the flesh of your hips, and he yanks you to the very edge of the desk, moving with you. The feel of him so close to where you want him is downright cruel.

“Have you thought about me fucking you?” he asks, those hands travelling to rove your ass.

Your nails bite into the desk as you answer, “Yes.”

“Did I make you scream?”

You bite down on your lip at the feeling of him spreading you apart, opening you up to him. “Yes.”

You feel it — his cock sliding between your folds. Not pushing in, but dragging torturously against your sex. From your entrance, up to your clit. The head of his cock pushes against it.

And the moan that rips from you is downright filth, as he rolls his hips and allows your wetness to slicken his length. It feels so fucking good. To you, and to him.

A breath shudders out of him, and he purrs, “Are you going to scream for me now?”

“Fuck yes,” the words tumble from your lips. “I want you, Fin.”

Just like that, his restraint snaps. The High Lord strikes.

He drags his length through your folds and enters you with a single, powerful thrust.

A shout leaves you, and you’re clawing at the desk, trying to keep your grip against the pleasure that courses through you. Fin fills you and stretches you. He pulls out and slams back in to the hilt.

“Fuck me, you’re tight,” he growls, his hands sinking back into your hips. He begins a steady thrusting, sliding in and out of you with a drag that makes you feel every glorious inch of him. “Gods.”

“So good,” you pant. “Want you harder.”

The plea seems to make him groan, and he wastes no time in picking up the pace. His hands bite into your skin as he fucks you faster, harder, your moans and pleas and curses falling from your lips without any nudging from you. The pleasure is all-consuming. In seconds, it’s buried within your veins.

“You like that?” The grit in his voice has you clenching around him. He’s so fucking filthy, so fucking sultry, as he snarls, “you going to be a good girl and come for me?”

Gods, yes, you are. Already, release is coiling tightly within you, and it’s a force entirely of its own right, inching closer and cresting the hill, ready to sink its claws into you. Fin’s cock hits deep, and out of nowhere, his palm is flying through the air and making contact with your ass cheek. That is all it takes.

The pleasure of it all is too much — the sting of the slap, the depth and thrall of his thrusts, the way he growls and grunts as he lays claim to your body, your pleasure.

You cry out, your orgasm blasting through you with unstoppable force. The long strokes of Fin’s cock fuck you through it, through earth-shattering pleasure, through what feels like a mind-altering experience.

“My filthy girl,” he pulls out of you suddenly, and though your cunt still clenches and twitches, desperate for more, more, more, he flips your trembling body onto its back once more and tugs you up, slipping back between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t tell you how relentlessly I’ve thought about making you scream for me like that.”

Past words, you can only reach up and pull his head down to yours to capture him in a kiss. Your taste still coats the tongue that he slides between your lips. It spurs you on to deepen it, luxuriate in the feel of it. And you become so lost in it that you tug hard at the strands of his hair when he enters you again in one great, sweeping thrust.

His arm folds around your back, hand grasping at your shoulder, and it seems to afford him perfect purchase to pound into you. Sounds fill the air of his skin slapping against yours, of the breaths and moans you huff into each other’s mouths. You think the two of you, together, might be loud enough, forceful enough, to bring the City of Starlight to rubble around you.

Fin’s lips tear away from yours, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts are growing quicker, sloppier, reaching a feverous pinnacle that will surely break.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come, Y/N,” his sweat-slick brow presses against your neck. “Taking me so well like this. Squeezing me like this. You’re going to make me fucking blow.”

You want that — more than anything. To feel the power of him spilling into you.

You squeeze your thighs against his, dragging your free hand — the one not sunken in his hair — down the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his waist — to his ass, where you dig your nails into the tight, toned flesh and encourage him to pump into you harder, faster. The feel of it makes Fin shout.

“Come for me,” you choke around your pleasure. “Please, Fin…want you to come.”

An animalistic growl rips from him, and he slams into you one, two, three more times, and then stills, throwing his head back with a roar that shakes the library. Hot, thick ropes of his seed seem endless as they’re unleashed inside you.

The force of it shatters you both, you think. With his trembling as thorough as yours, your nails are still raking over his skin as his brow presses to the crook of your neck. Strands of hair stick to the back of his. Your fingertips smooth over them tenderly.

It feels like eons that you stay there like that, holding each other up from collapsing under the weight of your mutual release. You want to hold him like this, always. You don’t care what others may have to say about it, what they may deem to be wrong about it. You want him.

He pulls back, as though sensing the thought. Meets your eyes. For a beat or two, he simply studies your face, something like clarity on his own.

And then he dips down and drops a kiss to your brow. Such a tender act, in the wake of such passion.

 No words are needed. Not as he scoops you up into his arms, leaving behind the mess the two of you have created. There’s a flash, and he’s winnowed you to your bedroom. A fire roars to life immediately. Fin places you down on the bed.

You watch through hooded eyes as he makes his way into the bathroom. Moments later, he’s returning with a warm, damp washcloth, and he perches beside you.

“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, and you do.

The High Lord of the Night Court is gentle as air as he takes care of you, wiping between your thighs and delivering soft, soothing strokes to your skin. A pleasant soreness sits in your lower belly. He leans down and presses a kiss there like he knows just that.

And then he’s sitting up, and it frightens you — the thought of him walking away, of this ending here and now.

So you lay a hand on his arm, breathing, “Stay with me.”

He pauses, eyes roaming your face like he’s assuring himself you mean it. And then he dips his chin.

“I would be honoured,” he rasps.

And thus, the affair begins.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The need you and Fin have for each other is…insatiable.

Every moment he’s away, you’re thinking of him, longing for the moment he’ll appear in your room and rip your clothes off. If anyone else in the palace — staff, servants, associates — are aware of what’s going on, they don’t give it away. And that suits you just fine.

You can’t get enough. You’re giddy with it. Giddy from the multiple, interesting circumstances you’ve landed yourself in.

Like when you lured him out of a meeting and dropped to your knees in a fucking broom closet, taking his cock into your mouth until he was canting his hips forward and spilling down your throat. Or when he fucked you on the balcony of his personal quarters, your body pressed up against the balustrade, the two of you open to the elements and your moans loud enough to reach the stars above you and the city below you. Or when he took you to watch the ballet, and up in the cushy surrounds of your private viewing box, you watched the performance with him deep inside you, his fingers indolently playing with your clit, his low voice in your ear reminding you to keep quiet.

It’s…exciting. Enthralling. It changes everything.

And as he pulls out of you now, sweaty and panting, and collapses beside you in his bed, you’re not sure you could ever tire of this feeling.

He wants you. He wants you so ferociously, like nobody has ever wanted you before.

As you catch your breaths, he props his head up with his hand and stares at you through hooded eyes, glazed with lust. He leans down and grazes a kiss to your mouth.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” he ponders as he pulls back, moving a hand to brush his fingers over your breast. “All this need — wanting you constantly.”

You lean up on your elbows, tilting your head, “Do you want it to stop?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Never.”

Never. Never is a very long time. It makes your stomach flip — the enormity of it.

Fin circles the tip of his forefinger around your pebbled nipple, watching with predatory fascination as he adds, “But this will, inevitably, blow up in our faces at some point. We haven’t exactly been secretive — not that I want to be. But people will talk.”

You lean up to brush your mouth over his. “Let them talk,” you say, and kiss him.

Immediately, he melts into the kiss. Your mouth seems to have an effect on him that you never thought yourself capable of. Always draws a long, pleasured sigh from him as he sinks into it, welcomes it.

He kisses you and kisses you, so greedily, so desperately. His hand snakes up to cup your cheek. He’s already hardening against your leg.

But he pulls away, dropping his forehead against yours. And he breathes, “Make a bargain with me.”

You trace a thumb over his bottom lip. You’ve never made a Night Court bargain before; never had reason to. “What bargain?”

“When this blows up in our faces,” he grips your hand, folding his own over it, “we face it together. You and I.”

“You and I?”

“You and I” he kisses your hand. “I don’t claim to be perfect. I don’t try to be. I can be brutal and callous, and I can lie and play games,” another kiss. “But not with you. Never with you. I will look after you. Take care of you. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

Words that you’ve always longed for someone to say to you. Words that should not be taken lightly, should not be said without meaning.

But you know he means them. You can tell he does.

You watch closely as your fingers interlace with his. And you whisper, “Together?”

Fin’s thumb sweeps over yours. “Together. We’ll face it together.”

“Then it’s a bargain.”

A flash of splintering pain zips around your midriff. You glance down to find the tattoo now inked there. The black line that draws a perfect circle around your waist, like a trail of night-kissed lightning.

You look up at Fin to find a roguish smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I like that,” he hums.

And then he’s leaning down and pressing kisses to that circlet signifying your promise to one another. Kisses the entirety of it, flipping you on your front in the process.

And kisses lower, until you’re screaming for him again.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Love on the brain

Ch 2.

Series Master list

CW: check the main master list for warnings.

It has been three days since the fight you had with your husband. During that time, the police interviewed you, asking if you would like to press charges. You were on the fence but, in the end, decided not to go through with it. There was an inkling of hope that him having the cops called with the threat of ruining his career would be enough to get that damn divorce and from there you'd figure it the fuck out. The clinic had given you information on domestic violence and different hot lines to call for help. There was the option of going to a women's shelter but you weren't going to put your children through that indignity. All three of them have had enough of that.

Kenny's mother had come by the house on day two. She had with her a roast and a sorry apology on behalf of her son. The woman was detestable, who could raise a man so cruel and then say “Maybe if you did your wifely duties right, he wouldn't act this way.” After she said that Kenny would stay at her house and that she would bring the pastor and him by so everyone could come to Jesus.

It had taken every ounce of your being not to swing on her. If you stayed, you were sure you'd be meeting Jesus face to face, so that he could ask you “Child, why didn't you take the boat we sent you?”.

At the same time, though, you knew you were in a rock and a hard place. You and your children were immigrants. You were a stay at home mom, which in hindsight was stupid. Until you knew for certain how you were going to house and feed your kids, you were stuck because money was a thing, and children couldn't live off of hope and love.

“Mom!” Jabari came running into the kitchen, he was out of breath and had a big fat grin on his face. “Mr Price is at the door!”

You stopped chopping the celery for dinner and wiped your hands on your apron. John Price had been nice enough to come to you and your family's rescue three days ago, and you felt bad that you didn't have the time to thank him. You peaked out the back door window to check on the girls, both of them happily playing with dolls together. Jada was busy trying to explain to Jayla the little storyline that was being played out, and Jayla was only too happy to just be included. After making sure they were okay, you followed the sounds of Jabari excitedly chattering away by the door.

“Actually Mr.Price, I'm like the best when it comes to rugby. It's sorta like football except without the padding!” Jabari laughed.

“You play football?” John had asked.

“The American football, sir.” He answered, “but honestly, I'll play any sport as long as it has a ball. I tried to get mom to let me play hockey once, but she said her pockets could only take so much.”

“Jabari, don't have this man thinking we're poor.” You scold as you scruff him by the neck. Your voice doesn't match the scolding, though. You sound absolutely smitten by your son and how he's in a good mood again. The last three days, he's been hovering around you and his sisters and insisting that you all should sleep in the same bed. He only wiggles out of your grip and laughs.

“Run along so the adults can talk.” You tell him.

“But mom” He whines loudly, holding onto your arm.

“Listen soldier,” John smiles at him, “how about you give me and your mum a few minutes and after I'll get the guys to play a game with you, your choice.”

Jabari doesn't need to be told twice, and he is dashing off to his room, saying that he is gonna teach the Brits about real football. You only laugh and shake your head before turning to John. Your body feels warm from embarrassment, which is more like shame, to be honest. Shame that he had seen you and your children at your lowest, and that was his first time meeting you.

“Uhm…” You search for the words, the right words that convey how thankful you are. “Listen, thank you for-.”

He stops you before any more words could be said, “You don't need to thank me for doing the right thing, miss.” His eyes, so pretty and blue and surprisingly warm. When was the last time you even had someone look at you with such warmth and understanding?

You can't bear to hold his gaze any longer, and you look away. “John, I have to pay you and your friends back for intervening. It would make me feel okay.”

He doesn't say anything else and just hums once. “Is he coming back?”

You don't say anything and cross your arms around your stomach. You want the ground to open up and swallow you whole. When the silence is loud and clear, you expect judgment. Instead, he just hums in thought again.

“I never got your name miss.” He says.

“It's Imani.” You finally look back at him. He's now leaning against the frame of the doorway, a thoughtful look on him. John nods his head once and smiles. There's still no judgment.

“Well, I want to leave you my number and the boys’ number so you can call us no matter what.” He's already pulling out his phone.

“Oh, John, I couldn't-” You're shocked, that's for sure.

“No choice, Miss.” He is firm on this decision, and somehow that makes you flustered. “I already spoke to the guys, and we very much want to make sure you and the kids are safe, at least until the bloke is handled for good.” His voice drops low at the mention of your husband.

You don't say anything else as you pull your old little phone out from your apron pocket and let him input his number and his roommates numbers into your phone. He then gets your number just as Jabari comes running back to the front door. He's got his football, and he's pulling on John's hand to take him to the backyard.

“Come on Mr.Price!” Jabari is insistent, “we just gotta make sure we stay out of Jada and Jayla's play party. The girls get testy when you bother them.” He laughed.

“Sure thing, soldier, just let me call the guys over, and we can get to it.” He looks to you asking for permission.

You only nod with a smile, “I don't mind, stay out of my flower beds…” you bite your lip between your teeth, deciding to take a risk, “We're having chicken and dumplings tonight, you all can stay over for dinner.”

John is clearly surprised, but Jabari is already answering for him. “Yeah, Mr. Price and his friends would love to stay!”

“Jabari.” You warn, but your son is already pulling John along to the back kitchen door.

As soon as the two of them were outside, your son could be heard yelling over the fence. “Don't worry about the front door, Mr.Johnny, just hop the fence!”

“I hope that boy doesn't make it a habit of hopping the fence.” You mumble and get back to working on dinner.

When dinner comes, your dining room table has the leaf put in, and four extra chairs pulled up. Each one of the very solid men at the table is covered in grass stains and is laughing (well ¾) with your children about the impromptu football game.

“You really are quick on your feet.” Kyle says to Jabari, “you must be a right terror on the field.”

“Jabari is quick because mom says that he got his speed from out running Nana's switch.” Jada is busy sitting her doll in Simon's lap, ignoring her brother's squawks of protest, “you two have to share a seat since that's where Anni normally sits.”

Simon, to his credit, takes it all in stride and only grunts in agreement. He isn't wearing the skull mask from before, just a plain black one. It's ridiculous really, seeing him hold the raggedy Anne doll so politely.

“So Imani lass, ya’ve been here for a few months, ya likin’ it's far?” Johnny (who, for some reason, Jabari has been allowed to call Soap).

You bring out the large pot as he's asking this and set it down on the table, “I like it so far, but doing any type of conversion for temperature, shopping and my personal enemy asking for tea and getting hot tea and not cold has been an adjustment.”

Kyle raises an eyebrow, “Cold tea?” There's a look of something on his face. It's the same look you get from Kenny's mother when you put ice in a cup and poor hot sugary tea over it.

By this time, Jabari had brought out the two pitchers of iced tea and set them on the table. “Well duh, how else are you supposed to drink tea?”

“Manners love.” You pinch your brows together, “don't forget he's still an adult.”

“Yes ma'am.” He says and takes his spot right between Johnny and Kyle.

“Kid's alright.” Kyle laughs, “I forgot for a moment that Americans do tea differently.”

You smile and avoid eye contact with him, “The fact that we are having chicken and dumplings with corn muffins should say everything about my thoughts on hot tea versus cold tea.”

“Daddy says when you make tea, mommy, it's enough to give a man diabetes.” Jada pipes up again.

“Sugar in a cup.” Jayla whispers, it's so quiet she giggles.

Everyone is laughing at your exasperated sigh and look that you give your daughters. The cultural differences are cute and funny, and as you look around your table, there comes a sense of peace. It feels for a moment that this is a normal family dinner with which the neighbors just happened to stop by. All the fellas got along just well learning touch football and in a hilarious turn of events Simon was the one roped into the game of tea party.

You're sad that this isn't your reality.

“You all have a good night, and don't hesitate to call if you need anything.” John said as he and his boys left the house. He was pleasantly surprised when Jabari was asking if they could play again soon, and the next time, they would play soccer.

“Aye, it's called football ya wee terror.” Soap had ruffled his hair.

“Well you're on American soil when you're at our house, and we call it soccer!” He ducked from under the man's hand. He was all smiles.

You shook your head and looked back at John, “I will, and thanks again for everything. Jada let Mr. Simon go so he can go home, I don't think he wants to babysit Anni, so you can have me time tonight.”

Poor Simon was bogged down with a pink backpack, a baby's bottle, and a pink stroller. Jada crossed her arms and stared up at you, “But Mr. John just said we could call them! You get me time every time Daddy leaves, why can't I?”

“Okay! Enough talking young ma'am, in the house!” You laugh nervously. You can feel the tension and shame creeping up your spine, but mercifully, none of the men comment on the mention of ‘me time’. After you send your son and daughter into the house, the only one clinging to you is Jayla. Her big wide brown eyes are staring up at John and flickering between him, Johnny, Kyle, and Simon. She waves shyly before darting back into the house.

“I don' mind keeping her doll for the night.” it's the first time that Simon has spoken all evening. You are taken back by both his accent and how deep his voice is.

“Really you-” you begin to say, but he's already taking the doll and all of the doll's things across the lawn. Johnny is cackling, and Kyle is just pinching the bridge of his nose. They both bid you goodnight. John gives you one last lingering smile and a nod.

“Get some rest tonight.” His voice is warm, and it's sweet like the tea that he politely drank at dinner without complaint. They all didn't complain about the dinner and rather enjoyed it quite a bit. It was a far cry from how your husband often critiqued (if calling some of the nastiest things said about your cooking can be called as such).

You watch until John is in his house across the lawn. The fantasy is over and you're hoping to enter that dream-like world again.

“Lass can cook. A shame she cooks fora bastard.” Soap says as he plops down on the couch. “Her weans are ‘dorable though.”

“Jabari can sure dish out a hit.” Kyle sat on the couch next to Soap and put his head in his lap, “that last tackle may have given me a bruise.”

John quietly listens to the guys as they talk about you. There's a thoughtful look on his face as he watches Simon carefully put the doll and its things on the armchair.

Simon looks at him just as he is taking off his mask. “Something on your mind?”

“She isn't leaving him anytime soon.” John goes into the kitchen.

“After he almost tried to kill her three days ago, she isn't leaving?” Kyle seems incredulous.

“It's not that simple.” Simon explains, “She's a foreigner with children, in a strange country, and she is a stay at home mum who depends on her husband's income. She can't leave unless she knows for sure her children will be safe.” Part of Simon feels ill with first hand knowledge of that reality.

It's quiet between the four of them, John speaks first, “We'll just have to help her.” He is ready thinking about how this will all play out if done right. If you're gonna be tied to anybody in a foreign country, it may as well be him and his boyfriends.

You don't know it yet, but the four of them are getting you out safely. And you're going to be safe in their arms.

Chapter 3

Tag list: @leahnicole1219 @uraeus56

[devil-in-hiding]

Got a LONG GhostPrice x reader fic for you 🫣

being married to Price and one day he asks if when he’s back from deployment he can bring his lieutenant back with him. Says he’s a real nice lad without any family of his own, he’s got nowhere to go home too after the mission. And of course you agree, how could you not? This man would (and has) killed to keep your husband safe, you owe him so much, of course you’ll let him stay over with you and John.

When they arrive, you welcome Simon with open arms. John watches happily as you take care of his lieutenant just as well you take care of him. You know how stressful deployment is for them so you’re than happy to cook warm meals for them, get them the snacks and beers they ask for, and make sure they’re as comfortable as they can be while they’re back.

Simon’s nervous around you at first. As much as John tells him he doesn’t need to be he can’t help it. He doesn’t want to take off his mask, worried you’ll judge his scars. But after the first few days he feel so much better. His stomachs full of warm food, you and John are keeping him entertained, and he’s so happy. So on the third day he finally comes down for breakfast without his mask on. Even though he’s so much more comfortable around you he still feels a bit nervous, but when you see him come down the stairs you’re so happy to see that he feels safe enough to share this part of himself with you. And when he sits down at the table his nerves are cured fully when you come up to give him a plate of bacon and eggs, and place a little kiss on his cheek right above one of his large scars. 

After the first week passes, and John sees how close you and Simon have gotten, he’s so happy. To see his lieutenant finally getting the love he’s long since deserved, and getting it from his wife no less, he couldn’t be more proud. You see how happy John is, so it’s really no surprise when he comes to you with a slightly… unusual request.

That evening, after you all finish the meal you prepared, you excuse yourself to go upstairs and let John and Simon talk.

“You’re lucky, nice bird like tha’, don’ think I’d ever be able to go on deploymen’ again if I were you” Simon grumbles while picking up his beer.

“Heh, yeah. She’s mighty fine isn’t she?” Price responds, to which Simon nods while taking a sip.

“You wanna fuck ‘er?” John asks, causing Simon to spit out his beer and choke, to which the older man lets out a small chuckle. “I mean it. She’s upstairs righ’ now gettin’ ready for ya.”

Simons mouth hangs open, and he’s completely at a loss for words.

“Course there is a little term to this arrangement,” John says with a smirk as he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, eyeing his lieutenant up and down, “I get to watch the two of ya’.”

When Simon John finally ascend the stairs to get to the master bedroom, they’re greeted with the sight of reader wearing a dainty lacy two piece lingerie set, and a soft smile. She walks over to Simon, and gently takes his hand, pulling him towards the bed.

John plops down onto the armchair conveniently placed by the bed, and lights a cigar as he watches the show.

“If you change your mind just let me know, and we’ll stop.” She coos to Simon as she crawls onto the bed, laying her head on the pillow and spreading her thighs slightly as she beckons him forward with a finger, “I’m all yours tonight Si, what do you wanna do?” You ask him with a smirk.

-🫧

[authorpanda15]

thinking about being denki kaminari’s tutor...

-> final exams are coming up, and denki unfortunately didn’t want to couldn’t find the time to study again. he begs his class vice representative to tutor him once again, but yaoyorozu’s got her hands full this week! all hope is lost for him... at least, it seems to be— fortunately, yaoyorozu has a solution!

“a student from the general studies department owes me a favor. if you’d like, I could set you two up,” she said, and denki happily agreed. the words “thank goodness for yaomomo!” circled his mind.

-> introducing, you— the general studies student who happens to have the highest marks in your class! judging by yaoyorozu’s praise, denki speculates you’re just as smart as her, īda and bakugō!

-> after a quick number swap, denki texts you. you reply fairly quickly, texting him your price and when you’re available. once again, thank goodness for yaomomo!!

-> the day of the first tutoring session comes, and denki finds himself heading to the school library instead of the dorms. he recalls your specifics on where you’ll be sitting, and finds you in a corner of the library with ease.

yaoyorozu didn’t mention you were cute... is what denki wanted to say when he caught a glimpse of your face, but he held his tongue. focus, denki! you can’t afford to goof off right now!

-> denki tried to focus on the practice problems on the sheet in front of him— he really did! but, every time you’d explain a certain solution or a particular method, he’d find his eyes wandering...

-> ...not towards your body! (c’mon, he’s not that bad! ...right?) but towards the subtle hints of personalization scattered throughout your belongings— like the buttons on your bookbag, and the charms that dangled from your phone case. and... okay, so maybe he found himself glancing at the subtle embellishments you’ve added to your uniform once or twice! can you blame him?! he also took note of the paper cup you placed off to the side, containing your choice of drink. (he’s seen that logo before, on the front of the cup... he’s gone to that cafe a few times himself. he wonders what you ordered. would you tell him if he asked? do you have a ‘usual’ that you always order? maybe, he could get it for you before his next session! he’d seem so cool, wouldn’t he?! “don’t mention it,” he’d say after you thanked him. “I just wanted to treat ya’, as a show of thanks...” would you think he’s cool? or would you think that’s creepy? or...)

“kaminari.” your voice snaps him out of his train of thought. oh, no... did he lose track again?! judging by your annoyed expression, the answer’s probably yes! “were you not paying attention?”

denki rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “...no. sorry! but,” he tries to come up with an excuse, quickly, and the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, “you’re just so cute, that I lost focus!”

denki nearly slaps his hand over his mouth as he watches the way your expression shifts. shit! he didn’t mean to say that— not out loud! you probably think he’s a creep now! and a weirdo! you’re probably gonna cancel this session, block his number and avoid him for the rest of your lives—!

“pfft, hahaha!”

...huh? was that giggling? you, giggling? he drags himself from his spiral back into this moment, and sees you covering your mouth with your hand. you were laughing! (at him?)

“nice save, blondie. now, let’s go back to work, yeah?”

denki sighs internally. nice save, indeed!

[misguidedasgardian]

I would like you to write a fic with Dark! Cregan Stark x reader

😏

Dark you mean... like this...?

Price of War 

part 2!

Dark!Cregan x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: You are send to the North to rally Cregan Stark to your side, 

Warnings: cursing, misogyny, medieval setting, war, usurpation, smut, loss of virginity, a bit of blood, dub-con (reader feels pressured), coercion, hints of a threesome (mfm), breeding kink, breeding, might miss some warnings 

“your sister will go North!”, said Otto, talking to Aegon and Aemond, Alicent just shook her head

“No, she is the girl, she will not travel the longest distance, it makes no sense!”, Otto just looked at his daughter

“Exactly, she is the girl, Cregan Stark will only answer to soft and innocent words”, he continued. Alicent then looked more scared than before

“You want her to whore herself to that pagan?”, she whined, her mouth twisted downwards 

“If she must”, he said dismissively, Aegon only smiled wickedly, Aemond looked to the floor in front of him, grabbing his hands behind him tightly, controlling himself 

“No…”

“I must go”, the four of them turned to the girl that just entered the chamber, silent like a little mouse, “Grandfather is right, if a marriage alliance will grant us the North, I must try”

“No”, whined Alicent

“Sush mother”, said Aegon, and that surprised even Aemond, “if our little sister wants some northerner cock who are we to stand in her way?”

“You will respect your sister!”, grunted Otto, Alicent just whined, covering her mouth in a horrified glance

“i will offer my hand in marriage, for after the war”, she muttered, with a hopeful smile, trying to ignore her brother, and she looked at her twin, Aemond, she wanted him to be proud of her, “and then I will come back, sooner rather than later, to protect the capital from the blacks”

“Oh my sweet”, Alicent grabbed her daughter and hugged her tightly, caressing her silver hair 

“I’ll be back soon mother”, she offered, and with no time to waste, she grabbed the letter her grandfather had written, and went to get dressed.

She wore the thickest riding gear he had, if it gets cold up there in the skies, the skies of the North would be even colder

She braided her own hair in a single braid

She wanted to do this, she wanted to make her family proud of her, she had to show determination, she had to protect her family, so with a hopeful smile, the kingsguard escorted her to the pit

Aemond wanted to speak to her, but she wouldn’t let her, she would lose her determination if she heard the soft words of her brother, besides, he was supposed to be betrothed also, she couldn’t take the same liberties, not that something ever happened…

Her dragon was waiting for her, happily, it was the only dragon that hatched for her or her siblings, so it was small, like Vermax, Jacaerys’ dragon.

She took to the skies quickly, she wanted to go and come back as soon as she could

She had heard stories about Cregan Stark, that he was young, and honorable, and as a Stark, he was joust and kept his word

He was going to support the King, your brother, or at least that is what you wanted to believe

You smiled hopefully

It took you two days to reach the capital of the North, and you knew when you got there because it was magnificent

It was a huge castle that looked like it had been there for a thousand years, and was going to be there far after you are gone as well.

The snowy mountains, the frozen lakes

It was beautiful 

Your dragon landed heavily on the snow, and when you touched the snowy ground, you heard another growl, you looked up to thee your nephew’s green beast, growling and snapping. Your dragoness growled back. You let them smell and growl at each other, without a rider to command them, they wouldn’t attack

 You were received by a soldier who after hearing your introductions, guided you inside the huge fortress, unimpressed and weary. The castle was huge, but you had no time to look at it, as you followed the men with fast feet. They led you to the great hall, it was filled with people, lords and ladies, but there, in the center of it all, you couldn’t miss him, stood a twenty five years old Cregan Stark.

“Princess (Y/N) of House Targaryen, daughter to the dowager Queen Alicent HIghtower”, and sister to the new King, you thought.

Everything went quiet, and all of them them walked away from you, to give you a huge space, for now there was nothing between you and the guardian of the North 

“Lord Stark”, he was an impressive man, dressed in wolf furs, his face serious to be so young, his eyes a piercing blue, his hair a dark brown, a strong beard on his chin and jaw

“Princes”, immediately you saw Jace, standing a few feet away from the Lord

“Jacaerys”, you greeted, and you wanted to smile, you liked Jace, but unfortunately, now you were enemies, he looked at you with a mean frown, you tried to clear your throat, your eyes to the ones of the big Wolf, sitting on the Northerner throne

“My Lord”, you said, “I bring word from my brother, the King”

“The King?”, he asked, Jace smirked, “forgive me, princess, because I believed Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen was supposed to sit the Iron Throne after her father, King Viserys”, he said, you paled, you got here too late, but still, he stood up from his throne and walked towards you, taking the scroll from your hand, he read it hastily, not before giving you a last heavy look, to then turn to the paper 

“I see” he whispered, looking back at you, he then looked at Jace, “my allegiance and my swords, for you”, he said smirking

You don’t know how long Jace had been in here, you guessed it couldn’t be that long, but the way that they looked at each other, it seemed like they had formed some sort of friendship, that they were in an alliance together, leaving you out in the cold

It was too late 

“Why would I support your brother’s claim?”, he asked then, sitting himself again, “My father sworn allegiance to the Queen, and you must know, Stark’s words mean something”, he said, “unlike the words of Hightowers and Lannisters”, you swallow thickly, but you couldn’t rid of the knot in your throat 

“The Queen was there, in the last moments with the king…”, you said, unconvinced, “she heard him muster his last words, that he desired Aegon to seat the Iron Throne after him”

“Lies”, said Jace

“So the only one there, to testify, is your mother”, he said, unimpressed, it sounded bad, it did, very convenient, but you knew your mother, and she wouldn’t lie with something like that… she wouldn’t, she was to good, too pius, you heard the lords and ladies snickering

You felt his deep gaze on you

It was true what they said, you believed, the Starks were more wolf than men, he looked like he wanted to eat you, you felt a lightning bolt traveling down your back, you started playing with your fingers, you were so cold and nervous 

You missed the way Jacaerys and Cregan smirked at each other 

“Clear the room, leave us”, commanded Cregan, and in seconds, the rooms as empty, even Jacaerys had left, only then you dared to look up at him

“Say it again”, he demanded, “why would I accept your brother’s claim?”, he asked

“He is the King’s first born son”, it was a justification, but it sounded like a question. He stood up front he throne, making you jump, he walked slowly, circling you, like a hunter

“They offered you up to the wolf uh?”, he asked

“Yes”, you said shakily, feeling his hot breath in the back of your neck 

“Show me how much you are willing to give for me to support your brother”, he whispered huskily

“What?”, you asked, looking at him, “I don’t understand”, he grabbed you by the hips and draw you back to him, now your back was to his chest, his mouth lingered over the side of your face 

“I am in need of a wife”, he purred, you felt like your heart beating so strong you believed he could hear it 

“But… would you support my brother?”, you asked, so nervous, you knew this was wrong, but you had to do something, or else, you would lost the North

“You’ll have to earn it…”

“How?”, you asked, when his big hand traveled from your hip, to your belly to one of your breasts, making you whimper

You whimpered, hiding your moans on the sheets underneath, but Cregan grabbed your by the hair roughly and made you crane your neck back

“I want to hear you”, he growled, pounding into you, over and over, “as I breed you”

“You already did”, you whined grabbing onto the sheet

This was wrong

You were not married 

And yet Cregan was cumming inside of you yet again, the dirty, squelching noises resounded over the room, your cunt, creamy and weeping, dripping the Stark’s seed, and yet he didn’t tired, you had been at it for hours

It hurt

Not much as it did when it started, when he took you for the first time, making you bleed, stealing your maidenhead, but now you were sore and tired, he hadn't stop 

“Cregan please”, you whined, you reached back, managed to grab his side, “I’m so full, I’m tired and sore”, you cried

But it felt so so good

“I have to teach you a lesson”, he growled, grabbing you greedily, he had you face down on the bed, your thighs bend, giving him complete access to you, “coming here, thinking a Stark’s word is feeble and weak, that we forget”, you cried out, his big cock reached a spot inside of you that made your eyes roll to the back of your head, “The North remembers little one, you are traitors and usurpers”

“I-I’m sorry”, you babbled, your thoughts, because of the pleasure, melted in a cloud, “I didn't mean it”

“You only wanted this, didn’t you? whoring yourself, searching for a real man for a husband”

“Mmm”

“Answer me little dragon”, he whispered teasingly, his hot open mouth in your cheek, you felt his teeth teasing your skin, threatening to bite you

“Yes”, you said barely

“I will marry you, you will stay here with your dragon like the good lady wife you are”, he growled, “they won’t take you back, with my seed dripping down your thighs, you will marry me won’t you? you will give me many children?”

“Yes”, you accepted your fate, closing your eyes and feeling his thick, fat cock pumping you full of his cum again, it felt so good

He was finally over, after hours and hours, he dropped himself to the bed right next to you, he grabbed you a bit rough, but accommodate you by his side

His fingers caressed your shoulder, then your back, then your bump, and then

You whined pitifully when you felt his thick fingers entering your creamy pussy, his seed mixed with your cum…

“So full of me, so good”, he purred, “You will stay here and bear children won’t you?”, he continued, “you have to eliminate from your pretty little head thoughts about war and alliances, the only thing in your mind from now on will be to take care of my child, and bare me more, is that understood?”, you nodded, “you are usurpers and traitors, so you will have to work hard for us to forgive you, won’t you?”, you looked at him even is it was a question he wasn’t really asking, you barely nodded, as his finger continued to play with you, “answer me little dragon”

“Yes Cregan”

“My lord, I’m your lord now”

“Yes My Lord” 

Then the door of his chambers opened, you jumped trying to cover your nakedness, but Cregan prevented you

Jace entered the room, with a wide smile on his face

“Our dragons are mating, isn’t that appropriate?”, he teased

“Jace?” you looked back at Cregan who was smirking, “what are you doing here?”

“Your family usurped my mother’s throne, I think you have to make us up for it”, he teased. YOu whimpered, looking at him wide eyed 

You watched the Northerner army march south, from the Lord of Winterfell’s rooms, against your family, you were so worried tears welled in your eyes, as you touched your five moons old baby bump

More notes: Well, technically he didn’t promise her anything hehe, I don’t know if it was THAT dark, but even though we haven’t met Cregan yet, I can’t picture him being cruel and very dark with a lady… anyways… hope you liked it noonie! ❤️

[amandav09]

COD-Sut up challenge

hello everyone! Yes I’m still alive

Summary : For this post I had the idea to use the challenge in which a child says "shut up" to his mother (with the accod of the parent) to see the reaction of the father

Warming : Very slight sexual incinuation, implied violence

Word count :8,5k

Gif not mine - I speak bad English and I am dislexyque, so sorry for the inconvenience

Ghost

Simon sat quietly in front of his computer. Her son ran into the living room, while you drop your husband a tea, you kiss his forehead and send a quick look at your son, the signal.

«(N/B) Stop running please» you hide somehow the phone that filmed the reaction of Ghost.

«Shut up mom»

The reaction is immediate, Simon grabs the arm of (N/B) to stop him in his race and gives him the most severe look.

"What did you just say?"

“Simon…” You step in and tell him it was a joke. But he cuts you before you continue.

“No one in this fucking house disrespects you. Even outside, no one has the right”

Simon’s grip was not strong, his cold tone was enough to bring anyone to attention.

«Luv, darling, it’s a joke» I smile gently to him showing my phone

He frowns and lets go of your son’s arm. His gaze fixed in your eyes «Run»

You wasted no time and ran fast, your husband on your heels while your son laughed in the background.

Konig

Konig dried the dishes while you sat on the couch. Your daughter sat in the seat in front of you. She was smiling and waiting for you to start. Your phone hiding behind a cushion and turned towards the kitchen door

«Honey, did you clean your room today?» You say loud enough for Konig to hear

Your daughter does not answer and puts her hand on her mouth to prevent herself from laughing.

«Mom asked you a question, luv» Gently said Konig while continuing his task. From the kitchen, he had no visibility on your daughter waiting for the right moment.

"So (N/G)? Did you make your room?" I repeat my question with an thumbs up.

«Shut up mom» Can she say, the most serious voice possible

You’ve never seen Konig turn so quickly towards you

«kleines Herz (little heart) comes here» Your daughter gets up and goes to see her father. Konig lowers himself to his height and takes his little hand «You must not speak like that, your mother and I love you with all our heart, but respect goes both ways...» He would continue to gently correct your daughter, but frowned as he saw her try to stop laughing. Slightly bewildered, he looked at you. His only response was your loving gaze, and when he looked down, he saw the phone half hiding behind a cushion.

“Oh. So you gang up against me?” He quickly got up and grabbed your daughter and put her under his arm. She struggles laughing while her father quickly approaches you. He grabbed you before you could do anything and put you on his shoulder «meine beiden Töchter (my two daughters) enjoys teasing me? I’m going to have to take revenge!" He says happily as he heads to the bathroom.

“You won’t dare?” You try to get off his shoulder and understand what he was going to do.

“You really want to test me meine Liebe (my love)?” He put you both in the bathtub and took the shower head «Last words to say?»

Your daughter tried to echo her father between two laughs, but he lit the water on you two «We will see if you will still want to make jokes next time» He says in a proud tone

Price

He was in his office filling out paperwork, his door was open.

You enter by straightening your coat, your phone hide in the outer pocket of your coat.

“(N/G) Come kiss your dad before I take you to school” I tell my daughter when she walks by the door.

«Shut up mom» She says without stopping to walk

You look at your husband who continued to write quietly, as if he had heard nothing

“You don’t say anything?” You ask.

Without even looking up from his papers, John answers: «One, we educated our daughter well, she would never say that. Two, I heard you laughing and whispering in his room, not even 10 minutes ago. And three...” He finally looks up at you, with a smile on his lips «You have hidden your phone very badly» He nods to your pocket where the phone was on the verge of falling «Well tried anyway, my love»

Makarov (I know, I know. Already the idea that he has a wife is impossible, so to have a child... But let me dream!)

He was on the phone with Yuri, a paper in his hand and pacing in the living room. You were putting wood in the fire because of the cool Russian

«(N/G) you can give me this log please?» you made an expres to put a log quite far from you. Your daughter was right next door and was reading a book, waiting for the right moment.

«Shut up mom» You often found that your daughter resembled her father, and while she said this sentence with the most neutral look possible, it confirmed the thing.

Your gaze turned to your husband who had a cold face and eyes turned to his daughter

«I’ll call you back later Yuri» He didn’t wait for an answer and hung up «What did you say to my wife?» He asked, the cold tone "As far as I know, you were not educated like that. Apologize quickly."

“Why would I do it?” (N/G)

“Because before it was your mother, it was my wife, and it still is. No one disrespects her. No one disrespects you either.” He said to her, “You must respect the people who deserve it. And your mother is the person who most deserves your respect.”

"My love." Step in. His head turns to you, his gaze slightly less cold, "It’s a joke."

He takes a slight breath and closes his daughter’s ears

“I’m going to make you regret this when she goes to bed.”

A shiver of excitement runs through you. You’ll probably have to find an excuse to explain why you’ll have trouble walking the next day.

Graves

Phillip was doing push-ups in the living room, you were sitting on his back, the strength he always amazed you.

Your son entered the living room.

“Cheri, can you grab my book, please?” I wink at him. Your son nods and takes an innocent face.

Shut up mom

Graves stop while he was going to chain another pump

“I should have put on a condom.”

You give him a little blow to the head for his comment. He laughs at that, then continues his push-ups. You thought he wasn’t gonna say anything else, but he called your son

«Apologize quickly before I ask Mom to get off my back»

«Pardon» said your son in you a little smile

«Well, now give him his book, and I don’t hear you talking like that anymore»

I run my hand through Phillip’s wet hair

«It’s a joke, my love»

He stops again, his body a few centimeters from the ground. He leaned slightly to his right to make you fall on your back, the soft carpet receiving your body. And before you can straighten up, Phillip is on top of you, "So you’re trying to get our son to prank me?" He smiles.

"No?" His smile grows even more when he sees your weak attempt.

"I will find revenge, darling, and ohhh, believe me, you will regret it."

Rudy

That poor baby just woke up when he heard your son say that.

You and your son had waited machiavelly for him to enter the kitchen

Hearing this quickly woke him up. He put his hand on his son’s shoulder

"Did Uncle Alejandro teach you to talk like that?" He had to yell at his best friend several times for the words he used while your son was nearby

He favors discussion when there is a conflict (except with Alejandro), in addition, it is with a child, and the child in question is his. He wants to resolve this quickly and efficiently.

«Yes» Your son decides to involve his uncle in the joke, and you must restrain yourself so as not to laugh and to pray for this poor man who has nothing to do with it.

«Apologize to mom» He caresses the boy’s head «And don’t talk to him like that anymore, mom is the woman of our life, we shouldn’t speak badly to him» He says softly. Then he takes out his phone

"What are you doing?" You’re frowning.

«I must speak to Alejandro» You could feel the anger emanating from him little by little

Before you could tell him it was a joke. He was already out in the garden

You quickly pick up your phone and send a message to Alejandro: «Sorry»

A few minutes later. Rudy comes back sighing, he takes you in his arms and puts his head on your shoulder

"Why do I feel like we have two children and not one?" You gently run your hand through her hair

Your phone vibrated and when you read the message, you took note to offer a box of chocolate to Alejandro

“I hate you ರ╭╮ರ”

Alejandro

Your husband held you in his arms while you were making breakfast. Your 7-year-old son enters the kitchen while your 5-year-old daughter was already sitting at the table.

“(N/A), did you pack for school?”

Your son, with whom you prepared this farce, slowly walked to the table.

Shut up mom

Alejandro did not even have time to react that your daughter got up and shook her big brother by the t-shirt.

“Never talk like that to Mom!” Your husband quickly grabbed your daughter to keep her away.

«My baby is a joke» I say quickly. (N/B) Laugh at his sister’s reaction while Alejandro always held your sulky daughter in his arms

«She has your character» You smiled at your husband who made a grimace in agreement.

[starry-hughes]

gingerbread house (mat barzal)

day 3 of star’s ficmas event!

mat barzal x teacher!gf

“What is this all for?” Mat questioned, shoving a piece of gingerbread into his mouth. “Mathew!” you scolded your boyfriend. “What?” he asked as crumbs fell from his mouth. “I’m building a gingerbread house for my classroom, stop eating my roof!” 

He grinned, grabbing the frosting bag and squeezing some onto his finger. “Are the kids decorating their own gingerbread houses?” he questioned. “I didn’t have it in my budget to buy some for the whole class, and I wanted to get some other things for my students who don’t want to decorate gingerbread houses or don’t celebrate Christmas.” 

Mat frowned, “You know I would happily get all the stuff for you guys.” Mat truly cared for your students, he knew all their names and had done a lot for the kids in your class. You shrugged, continuing to place gumdrops onto your gingerbread house. “You really don’t have to Mat, they have plenty to do for the holiday party.” 

Mat pulled up a chair next to you and attempted to help you with decorating the gingerbread house. Soon after, you ended up sitting in his lap, Mat’s hands on your waist as you giggled whenever he would give you a squeeze, just to distract you a little. 

It was a pretty gingerbread house at the end, despite Mat eating a gumdrop off the pathway portion. “I gotta go shower and grade some spelling tests,” you kissed Mat softly. He nodded, “‘m gonna run down to the gym, pick up some dinner for us too.” 

Mat didn’t go to the gym though, he raided the shelves of the nearby store, buying any gingerbread houses he could find, extra sprinkles, frosting, food dye, anything to make sure he could include all your students. Mat didn’t bat at eye at the price of his slightly over-the-board shopping trip. 

By the time he got home, he hid the shopping bags in his extra hockey bag, somewhere you’d never look. You were grading tests at the dinner table. “How was the gym?” you smiled as he placed down some take out food on the table. “It was productive.” 

The next morning, you were dressed festively, it was your class holiday party and you were extra excited. “Mat honey, I’m going to school early, have a good practice,” you kissed his cheek as you got up to leave. “Love you,” he mumbled into his pillow. “Love you too.” 

You carefully got your gingerbread house to school and began setting up the winter wonderland in your classroom. Mat timed it just right, he knew every morning you would leave fifteen minutes before the first bell to stop by the library to greet the librarian and then pick up your students from morning care. 

He walked into the office, flashing a smile at the secretary. “Oh, Mat, (Y/N) didn’t let us know you were coming, let me call her,” the school secretary said. “Oh no! It’s a surprise, just some extra goodies for her class party.” 

He got into your classroom swiftly and began unloading all the things he bought on your reading center table. He worked quickly and couldn’t stop smiling as he felt like Santa in the moment. Mat heard you outside your classroom, instructing the students to hang their coats up and gentle reminders about behavior for the holiday party and festivities. 

“Mat!” you jumped, a little surprised. “Hi Mr. Mat,” your students greeted as they entered and went to their desks. Your eyes landed on the table and all the new items there, the gingerbread house kits, enough for everyone. “Mat,” you cooed, you felt yourself falling in love all over again with Mat. 

“Just thought you needed some extra things.” 

The students had a blast, Mat stayed the whole day, decorating gingerbread houses with your students and talking about your own gingerbread house the two of you decorated last night. You let one of your students turn on the light for another menorah candle. At the end of the short halfday for your students, you sent them all home with goodie bags and well wishes for the winter break. 

Mat helped you clean up, and by clean up, he was eating the leftover sweets and snacks. “Mathew,” you said gently as he tied up another trash bag. “Yeah?” 

“Thank you, you really made the holidays special for them.”