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majestyeverlasting · 24 days ago

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𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐲 | 𝐞.𝐦.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Fem Reader [friends -> lovers]

Summary: You and Eddie ditch the party of the semester to fall into something you both know is meant to be [fluff, 3k]

A/N This is just fun, fluff, and feels. Felt like a vibe while I was writing it.

The music vibrates through the floor so intensely that Eddie can feel it in his bones. Even in the sunroom where he and a few others have settled. The small space gives sight to the backyard, where people mingle as they smoke, illuminated by string lights combating the night’s darkness. Those inside the house with him chatter, sing, and toss their heads back in carefree laughter, feet shuffling against the hardwood as they dance.

The entire scene buzzes with the kind of life only Steve Harrington’s place could ignite on a Friday night. One of these days, he swore he was going to loosen up and allow himself to get swept up in it too.

For now, he watches. Eyes flitting to various faces, but always returning to you. If you weren’t smiling, you were talking, and the way your lips formed around your words was just as beautiful. The two of you spoke briefly when he first arrived, and he could still feel the delighted hug you’d given him over the fact that he decided to come. He wondered what he’d have to do to make it go away, but good thing he didn’t mind the feeling. It was a reminder of how much he wished your nearness could be all his forever.

Longing was a peculiar thing. Selfish in its occupation of his entire being.

As Eddie takes another small sip from his drink, something fruity spiked with vodka, The Hair himself saunters up in front of him in a pair of slacks and a Polo sweater. Though rather polished for the occasion, it manages to look fitting on him. His cheeks are a little flushed and the metalhead raises a curious brow as his friend stares down at him with a smirk.

Rebel Yell starts pulsing through the stereo as Steve offers him a hand off the couch. They end up weaving their way out back. The fall air is cool, but not all of summer’s warmth has vanished. A few people wave and greet them as they head towards a pair of chaise lounge chairs. Billy Idol’s voice is muffled as it continues thrumming from inside. Grooving bodies are visible through the windows as the party carries on.

Steve pulls out a fancy metal cigarette case before they sit, flipping it open with a soft click. Eddie can’t help but snort as he relaxes into the chair.

Steve’s brows furrow as he slips out a joint and begins lighting it. “What?”

Eddie nods to the case in Steve’s lap. “Rich people shit.”

Steve takes the first couple puffs before passing the joint to Eddie. “Jealous?”

A smile cracks Eddie's face before he takes a drag. The answer is no, he isn’t. Once upon a time, jealousy was all he burned with, even though he was Hawkin’s poster child for no fucks given and had every reason to be grateful he wasn’t worse off. Grateful for Wayne, that he wasn’t in the pen with his deadbeat father, for finally finding solid friends. He had more than he could ask for, and it took growing up to see it.

Eddie tips his head back and blows smoke up into the night before giving Steve his turn. What he can’t see is that your eyes have fallen on him from inside the house, sparkling and curious as Robin grins by your side.

“So did I save you back there or what?” Steve asks as he ashes the joint onto the ground. “Looked like you were zoning in and out, man.” There’s genuine curiosity in his gaze though his tone is playful.

Growing up with parents like his, Steve had gotten good at reading people. They vacationed a lot, but still managed to walk around with arc reactors in their chests whenever they were home. Bound to detonate in the wake of the most trivial inconveniences. Sometimes he wished he could shut everyone and their feelings out, but he wouldn’t quite be himself then.

Eddie runs his ringed fingers through his hair. “Just a bit overwhelmed.”

Steve takes a thoughtful look around. “These kinda things can be a lot.”

Not even half the faces outside belong to close friends. There was a magic to it, nevertheless. For a few hours, everyone could throw their worries to the wind as Hawkins, Indiana began to feel less like a nowhere town and more like the top of the world. Lord knows Steve didn’t mind the distraction.

“Not my scene,” Eddie settles on saying. The joint has found its way back into his hand.

“Everyone’s got their escape,” Steve says. “You’re just too evolved for this one.”

Eddie snorts. “Shut up.”

“Yet here you are in the flesh,” Steve continues, thinking as Eddie smokes. “You should tell her how you feel.”

Eddie coughs, lowering the joint from between his lips. “Dude. Fuck.”

Steve bites back a smirk as Eddie recovers, extending his hand for the joint. Eddie refuses, taking another drag out of spite, for himself or Steve he isn’t sure. A distant swell of giggles makes multiple heads turn towards the back door, where you and Robin file outside. There’s an immediate flutter in Eddie's gut as he takes you in, your skirt flowing at your thighs. It takes him a second to realize you two are headed their way.

By the time you make it over, Eddie has straightened up. Meanwhile Steve remains unphased. “Ladies,” Steve greets.

Robin wrinkles her glittery nose at him. “Why weren’t we invited out here?”

Chuckling, he makes room for her on his chair and she plops down beside him. “‘Cause you hate the way weed makes you feel like you’re going insane.” He leans into her with each word until she pushes him away with a helpless laugh.

“It’s the principle,” she counters.

Eddie motions for you to join him and you smile as you take a seat beside him, bumping your shoulder against his in a gentle hello. When he offers you the joint, you shake your head. Steve reaches for it yet again, but Eddie pretends not to notice, taking another drag. A small smile pulls at your lips.

“Actually, I think I will take a hit.” Eddie doesn’t hesitate passing it to you.

Rather than indulging, you hand it to Steve, who laughs in victory. Eddie shakes his head, feigning betrayal in a way that earns a laugh out of you. It’s a sweet, melodic sound. He tries to ignore the way your thigh feels pressed against his, but it’s in vain. Even the vanilla notes of your perfume manage to cloud his mind in the softest way. No matter where he was, if you were near, he would always be painfully aware of your presence.

It was your invitation that had driven him to this party in the first place. Although Steve’s invite came first, your insistence made him change his mind and say yes. Sweaty bodies and blaring music wasn’t your ideal scene either, but you gave in from time to time and looked good doing so. Earlier that night, Eddie almost hadn’t made it through Dancing In the Dark as you and Robin swayed and jumped around like you were alone in your room. There was something about the freeness of the way you moved that made it hard to look away.

“Munson’s been meaning to tell you something,” Steve announces, looking straight at you.

Eddie’s heart drops into his stomach as he glares at Steve. Robin glances between the two of them, brows furrowed as amusement plays on her lips. You hug your arms as a cool breeze rolls through, but you’re more interested in what Eddie has to say than escaping the chill. In meeting your gaze, however, he silently begs you not to entertain the claim. It only piques your curiosity all the more.

“Are you gonna spill or what?” Robin prompts.

“There’s nothing to spill,” Eddie insists, looking down to twist his skull ring.

Reaching over into his lap, you gingerly take his hand into yours to slip off that very ring. He doesn’t pull away or argue, just watches as a helplessly warm feeling melts down his ribcage. His lips twitch upwards when you put it on your thumb because it’s the only finger big enough. It’s warm from being against his own skin for so long. Robin and Steve share a brief, knowing look.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.” There’s hope woven within the lilt of your voice. Eddie chuckles, and you commit the breathy sound to memory as if you’ll need it one day more than you do now.

Robin slaps her hands against her knees. “Well, it’s getting kinda chilly out here so I’m gonna head back inside,” she says, rubbing her arms as she stands.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you tease.

“I’ll stick to something tame like snooping around in Harrington’s room,” she says as she turns to leave. Steve rolls his eyes.

A comfortable silence settles between the three of you. However, his brows eventually pinch together as he reconsiders Robin’s words. Taking one last drag, he passes the joint back to Eddie.

“She was joking, Steve” you assure him, chuckling.

“No she wasn’t,” he worries as he stands to jog back into the house. Eddie snickers.

With a soft sigh, you lean back onto your hands, looking towards the sky as silence falls again. There are a few clouds visible in the light of the crescent moon, but the stars are everywhere. Like tiny shining freckles peppered against the face of the night. Part of you wonders if he’ll talk now.

“What if the stars have been watching us back our entire lives?” you murmur.

Eddie’s brows pinch together as he looks over at you, chest rattling with a startled laugh. “That’s something to think about.” His eyes are a bit glossier now. “Don’t think I’d mind if that were true.”

You tilt your head, a smile budding on your face. “You wouldn’t mind billions of little eyes observing your day-to-day life?” you ask. “That’s a pretty big audience.”

A grin eases across his face, half playful, half cocky. “I’m a pretty interesting guy.”

You lift a teasing shoulder, feigning indifference. “You’re alright.”

Eddie laughs, but a weighted look flickers in his eyes as he studies you, catching the fondness you hadn’t tried all that hard to hide. Even with the pleasant buzz beneath his skin and somewhat of a looser mind, he can see it clearly.

“Hey,” you speak up again. There’s a new softness to your voice, something mischievous dancing around the edges. “Wanna get outta here?”

Eddie blinks like he can’t quite believe you’ve asked, but finds himself saying yes anyways.

•••

Sitting in the passenger seat in his van, you realize you didn’t think much further than this. The air smells like him in all the best ways. Pinewood and faint cigarette smoke. As the engine rumbles to life, you shift in your seat and peek over at him, your confidence a distant memory. The radio bursts to life as well, but he quickly reaches out to turn it down. You bite back a smile at the fact that his skull ring is missing from his finger because it’s on yours. Eddie settles in with a sigh, turning to you.

“So,” he says, eyes sparkling and a little red under the glow of the street lights.

There’s an intensity to the warmth of his gaze. It drives you to hide your face in your hands. Which does nothing to make him disappear, if the way he exhales a chuckle is any indicator. “Stop looking at me, I didn’t think this far ahead.” There’s no real distress in your voice, only giddiness mixed with nerves.

“Now I feel like an idiot,” you whine.

“Well, you’re not.” He sounds more sincere than the moment calls for. “And I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop looking at you, so I guess we’re both in a pickle.”

“A pickle?” You snort, lowering your hands to meet his gaze. More laughter escapes you. Maybe it’s your body's way of not having to address the implication of his words.

There’s a flutter in his gut as he watches you. It’s like old times, back when you were freshmen who stayed up too late laughing over the most ridiculous things. Except now, you were more than the girl who sat beside him in Biology because you thought it was cool he had a tattoo. You’d grown into a friend, perhaps even more. As composure finds its way back to you, that truth weighs heavy in the small distance between you.

Eddie clears his throat. “We could hang at mine for a bit. Wayne’s at work.” When you don’t say anything, he bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s up to you.”

“Sorry, yeah, that sounds good,” you breathe.

Eddie gears the van into drive, only to put it back in park with a heavy exhale. You blink when angles himself to look at you, opening his mouth a few times before speaking.

“There is something I need to tell you,” he admits. “No way in hell did I ever think we’d be friends, but you’re the raddest person I’ve ever met.” A lump forms in your throat as his words wash over you. “And you’re so pretty that sometimes I wonder how every guy in the world isn’t giving you whatever you want all the time.”

You can hear your heart in your ears as you say, “Maybe that’s ‘cause there’s only one guy I want in the world.”

•••

A small sound of surprise rises up your throat when Eddie backs you against his bedroom door. His apology is hushed against your lips as he continues kissing you, hands gentle where they grip at your waist, feeling along your sides. You’re warm all over as if you’re laid out before the sun, arms hooked around his neck. It hadn’t occurred to him how much he wanted to kiss you until you looked at his alarm clock and realized that it’d probably be best if he drove you home. It was well past midnight. Time had escaped you as you talked and laughed.

When he does pull away, he studies your face like he’s looking for something. A few seconds pass, and he still doesn’t know what for. Perhaps your smile as it shyly appears. You move your hands to cup his face, thumbs stroking his flushed cheeks. You’ve never been close enough to notice he has the faintest freckles over the bridge of his nose. It almost feels like you’re getting a glimpse at sacred markings you’re not supposed to see.

Eddie remembers to breathe when you peck his lips again, running your fingers through his hair. His breath is startled out of him, more like. It’s a wonder his knees haven’t buckled beneath him. He wants to kiss you again to see if that’ll finally knock him back down to earth, but instead he exhales the softest sigh over your lips, squeezing your hips to confirm you’re real. He’s not expecting the sense of guilt that creeps up on him.

Your brows pinch together. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just… I haven’t taken you on a date or bought you flowers.” He swallows. “I swear you’re worth all that, swear I’m gonna.”

You gently scratch his scalp. “That’s nothing to worry yourself over.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Don’t want you to feel like I’m just trying to come onto you,” he says. “I like you a lot—”

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever too.” Your voice sounds braver than you feel.

A smile breaks across his face as he rests his forehead against yours. “Well, that’s maddening news.”

Humming, you kiss him again, delicately running your tongue along his lips so he shivers. “Where are we gonna go?” you breathe, clarifying when he makes a soft, confused sound, “For our first date.” With the way you continue kissing him, he assumes you don’t really want an answer, that you’re trying to drive him crazy on purpose.

His mind changes when you gently push his chest so he knows to pull away. He listens immediately, eyes dazed.

“Maybe the arcade,” you supply, toying with the hem of his shirt. “Or a picnic by the lake.” Your hands slip under his shirt, gracing the skin of his lower stomach, your touch sending a rush of heat through him faster than any high ever could.

You’re not trying to be suggestive, it’s more exploratory. A shared thrill in finally being able to touch him how you’ve wanted for so long. Eddie’s hands remain at your waist, grounding him even as he feels his resolve starting to slip.

As much as he wants to indulge a step further, maybe even several, he holds himself back. It might be old-fashioned, but he wants to do this right, do a bit of course correction. He can almost hear Uncle Wayne’s voice from those lazy afternoons of his younger years, talking about life and how to treat a lady.

“Next Friday,” he says, staring into your eyes intently. “It’ll be nice. I’ll surprise you,” he promises, taking your hands in his, relishing their softness, their warmth. His skull ring is still on your thumb.

“Really?” Your smile is unabashed.

He nods, a grin creeping onto his face. “It’s a date.”

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think.

Turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting so you don’t miss the next one.

PART 2 (18+)

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things 4 #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson friends to lovers #friends to lovers fic

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iamgonnagetyouback · 1 month ago

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tom riddle x wife!reader who is the only one he is submissive in front of

The room was dimly lit, the soft crackling of the fireplace the only sound as you lounged on the chaise, thumbing through a book. Your peaceful evening was disrupted by the unmistakable creak of the front door. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

"Darling, I'm home," Tom called, his voice ever so smooth, but you could sense the slightest tension beneath the calm facade.

"Mm, about time," you replied nonchalantly, flipping a page. "Did you—" You stopped mid-sentence as a rather peculiar scent hit your nose. You furrowed your brows, finally lifting your eyes from the book.

And there it was. Right in the middle of the parlor. A dead body.

"...Is that a dead body?"

Tom, still in his pristine suit, looked down at the lifeless figure as if he hadn't noticed it before. He blinked, then, without missing a beat, turned back to you with an innocent expression. "....Maybe."

You raised an eyebrow, setting your book down. "It is. I can see it right in front of me."

Tom ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, his typical composed demeanor faltering for a split second before he put on his best innocent expression. "I promise I'll clean it up before dinner."

You stood, crossing the room toward him, arms folded. "Really, Tom? We’ve talked about this. You have to stop bringing your work home. I swear, if I find one more corpse in our living room—"

"But he annoyed me!" Tom cut in, sounding almost...defensive? He cleared his throat, as though realizing how ridiculous it was to argue this with you. Lord Voldemort, the most feared wizard in the world, trying to justify his actions to his bossy wife. Merlin, what had he become?

You rolled your eyes. "What happened to a simple Obliviate? You didn’t have to murder him."

"I tried! He resisted—"

"Oh, so naturally you had to Avada Kedavra him. Great logic."

Tom shifted under your stern gaze, and you could almost see the way his mind was racing to explain himself. Yet, the way he followed your every move, the almost sheepish way he avoided your eyes when you got close, said everything. You were the one person who could make him bend. The only one who could command him without uttering a single spell.

“Fine,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll…handle it.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You better. And don’t let it stink up the house, Tom. I want everything spotless before dinner.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, his voice dropping to a tone so soft, you’d never guess he was capable of mass murder. He snapped his fingers, and the body disappeared in an instant.

"Good." You placed a hand on his chest, leaning up to plant a small kiss on his cheek. "Now, was that so hard?"

Tom’s lips twitched as if fighting a smile. He’d never admit it, but he lived for moments like this, where your mere presence made him feel… less like the Dark Lord and more like your husband. “You really are impossible sometimes.”

You gave him a smirk, your hand trailing down his chest. “And yet, here you are— cleaning up your messes like a good husband.”

He huffed softly, pulling you closer. “Only for you.”

“You better. Now,” you said, glancing around the room. “I’m going to finish my book. And if there’s one bloodstain left on that floor—”

Tom sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, a resigned smile finally breaking through his facade. "Yes, dear."

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle #husband!tom riddle #wife!reader #x wife!reader #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ

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pickingupmymercedes · 4 months ago

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“you’re so warm.” blurbs with lewis. reader is pregnant and the hormones is acting up so she's dying to give love bites on lewis' neck.

That was fun, maybe it has its own part 2 someday. Hope you like it anon!

"You're so warm"

The sun was beaming down on the sleek lines of their yacht, the Mediterranean Sea shimmering like it always did. Y/N, laid down on a chaise lounge in a breezy sundress, tried her best to relax.

Keyword: tried.

The reason for the unrest? Lewis, of course.

He was striding across the deck, phone on his hands, a mischievous grin plastered on his face, while he sported a pair of swim shorts, the kind that left very little to the imagination, and his adorned abs.

Y/N knew for a fact there were paparazzi lurking somewhere nearby, their long lenses trained on Lewis, as photos of their little summer getaway had already filled the gossip pages.

"Lewis?” she called out; her voice laced with mock sternness despite the fluttering in her stomach "care to explain why you're practically mooning the entire Italian coastline?"

Lewis chuckled, sauntering over to her with a playful strut "Just catching some rays, love" he winked. He leaned down, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Besides, who says I can't share the beauty with the world?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow and glared at him. He knew damn well what she meant. But still there he was, flaunting his abs to the world to see as she tried to hide the small, but very visible, tiny bump on her stomach.

"You are a menace," she mumbled, but couldn't help a smile tugging at her lips. He had been extra playful and carefree during the trip, a constant reminder of one of the many reasons she had chosen him.

"Jealous?" he teased, leaning in closer.

Y/N narrowed her eyes playfully. "You know I haven’t been the best at resisting you lately" she admitted, unable to tear her eyes from him, and succumbing to the urge of running her fingers across the expanse of his sculpted chest.

Lewis's grin widened. "Well then," he murmured, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "how about I give you a private show later?"

Y/N's whole face and neck flushed, her body temperature going up by at least a couple degrees. "Don't tempt me" she warned, though her voice lacked conviction.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his gaze. "You’re so warm, babe. Something the matter?"

Y/N responded with the mischievous glint in her eyes. The pregnancy hormones, their new constant source of amusement and occasional bewilderment, were at it again.

"As a matter of fact" she declared puffing out her chest. Reaching out, she pulled him to her on the lounger, his arms holding his weight just above her as she gently nipped at the exposed skin just below his ear, leaving a faint mark.

Lewis yelped, more in surprise than pain, his hand flying to the exposed skin of her thighs. "Babe" he exclaimed, his voice sounding just like a warning more than anything.

She giggled, the sound his favorite melody. "There," she said, feigning satisfaction. "Now everyone knows who you belong to."

Lewis mused her a grin "Alright, alright," he conceded, shaking his head but unable to hide his amusement. "You win this one, love." He pulled her close, her warmth enveloping him.

"What’s my prize?" Y/N murmured, nuzzling into his chest.

"Tell you later" he teased, nuzzling back.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

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If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#Ella500 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you

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fraugwinska · 5 months ago

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Since @chefskjssart's artwork that I commissioned was such a BANGER, I felt like I needed to do something to show my gratitude. So, I messaged her and gave her free choice over a little One-Shot I'd gift her. And that's how we ended up here :D Where are my little TV Sluts at? You can thank Chef - and I hope you all have fun ;>

NSFW - Explicit Sexual Content - Minors DNI - 5.7k words

"Gotta say, Val, the revenue of your movies really skyrocketed this quarter, fuck me."

Vox flipped through the quarterly reports, eyebrows raised and a grin on his face while Valentino, very pleased with himself, lounged on the chaise next to Vox's desk, smoking.

"I told you I've made a good investment." He grinned and blew out a puff of smoke. "All the horny bitches out there are eating my movies up."

"It's more than that, you're even making headway into other rings, holy shit! We've even got a foot in the Lust Ring market, which is almost impossible with that kind of competition..."

Valentino hummed approvingly.

"And the best part: I didn't have to do much." He added and let the tip of his cigarette rest against his lips, his grin widening. "My newest author is a kinky little genius."

Vox turned his attention to the papers again, his smile slowly turning into a frown as he scanned the declining sales in Voyeurscopes.

"What are you talking about? All of your authors write pretty much the same shit, what could be so special about-"

Valentino laughed and shook his head. "That one is - believe me, carino. Poor bitch has the mind of a succubus on crack but she can't get off."

Vox looked up, an eyebrow raised in skeptic questioning.

"Can't get off?"

"Can't feel anything. Can't cum for the life of her." He replied, leaning back and spreading his arms. "Numb like a fucking dead fish."

"Or maybe she just hasn't found a good dick." Vox mumbled, returning back to the reports, skimming over the numbers.

"Mh, you be the judge amorcito. Because I tried." Valentino growled, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Now that got Vox's full attention. The TV demon stared at his partner for a few seconds of silence, then laughed maniacally, almost falling off his chair while Val rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Fucking weird little thing, she is. She can write the craziest shit, the hornier the better. Writes like a damn porn beast, but has no clue what good sex actually feels like."

Vox heaved, wiping his screen as if in tears.

"Ohoho, Christ on a Cracker Val, maybe you've been out of the business too long… are you maybe losing that golden touch?"

Valentino sneered. "Ay, and you think you would've been able to get that bitch to cum? Be my guest, I'll gladly watch you fail."

Vox grinned at the moth, his eyes dangerously teasing. The reports were long forgotten - this was too entertaining, and Vox loved to be challenged, because he loved the feeling of superiority he felt when he succeeded. And that feeling would be so much more satisfying when he'd beat his long time partner and porn prince of pride at his own expertise.

"Wanna up the ante? Make a little wager out of it?"

Valentino scoffed, then chuckled deviously. He took another drag from his long cigarette, his cerise teeth glistening with red saliva as he began to drool in anticipation.

"You know I like to play, Voxxy. Especially if the odds are so much in my favor."

Another script done.

Your best one yet, if anyone asked you. But you knew no one asked ever, so why bother?

You stood up from your desk in your private office - being Val's favorite pen pet had it's perks afterall.

You skipped the stage of employment where you'd be cramped in one of these horrible cubicles together with the other overworked, caffeinated and tired writers, typing another outdated secretary-fuck-fest-plot while the other employees complained about their last bad lay and the shitty pay.

At least you didn't have to deal with any of that. Your room was quiet and peaceful, the door able to be locked shut and the walls soundproof. No distractions, no chit chat, no loud coworkers or malfunctioning printer noises. Just the humming sound of your computer, and the whirring of the A/C Val had granted you - a luxury that most of your colleagues bitched about behind your back.

You stretched, your tired bones popping into place and you sighed. You were done for the day. Finally.

With the deadline looming over you, you had been a bit late with the last part, and the thought of being late with your work made you sick. But Val pressed for another banger (pun intended) like your last one, 'Dante's Infern-Hoe' and you didn't want to risk the benefits you were offered so temptingly by being sloppy.

But the script for 'The Devil wears Nada' sat now, freshly printed, next to your laptop, the file saved locally and in the cloud, with about an hour to spare still. You smiled, content and relieved. An hour of paid slacking off was nice, and you checked with a glance that the electric door still was set on LOCKED before you flopped down at the two-seater by the window, grabbing the remote from the small side table and turned on the TV.

A familiar voice spoke through the speakers, and you relaxed into the pillows with a small sigh, eyes closed.

As shitty as the program in Hell was, one thing it had going for it was Vox. That smooth, hypnotizing voice of the overlord that held pride's media empire in his claws was a delight to your ears, and even the mindless, overplayed commercial jingles were pleasant enough if he was the one narrating them.

For the millionth time, it seemed, your hand wandered under the hem of your pants, fingers rubbing lazily at your cunt, as you listened to him talk, advertising the latest angelic protection device that didn't do what he promised it to do.

It was insanity at this point, doing something over and over again expecting a different outcome. Every night your fingers were cold and wet with your slick and your clit bloody and raw while you felt nothing of even your most violent and feverish touches, trying for minutes to hours to experience a sensation you wrote daily about without the satisfaction of any remarkable buildup or release.

It was no use, you knew it was a fruitless attempt, just like all the others. The most you got out of your endless tries was a slight tingle one time where you were so desperate you fucked yourself with an electric rod on its highest setting, resulting in a power outage in your apartment and a big fat fine from your landlord a few days later.

Still, you craved it. Craved to one day feel at least something. After the disappointing One-Night-cannot-Stand-the-thought-of-it with your boss, the literal porn mogul you were ready to just give up. If the face of pride’s sexdrive couldn’t get you over the edge, was there any chance at all?

Valentino had been the last in a long line of desperate attempts, paartners ranging from incubi, paid whores, porn actors to even sexbots made by Asmodeus, costing you a pretty penny just for the hassle of trying to get through the return hotline to get your money back, explaining No, you don’t know how it was possible that the cock of the ‘Fuckboy 3.0 XXL’ broke into pieces after one time usage.

You chuckled humorlessly at the memory - It was truly a pathetic time in your eternal existence, filled with you masturbating alone in bed like a sad porn star, yearning to experience sex like you wrote about in your scripts. Maybe this was hells way to punish you for your sins, your personal plan of torture - To never experience the very thing that possessed you on the daily.

The television droned on in the background, Vox advertising his latest technological developments; new features on your phone that you really could not care less about. Despite his unusual appearance, Vox was one of your absolute go-to Stand-in's for your plot protagonists. Charming, suave, depraved when called for and a dominating, thorough lover that took what he wanted, but with so much skill that his partner would cum threefold before he'd even begin to think about finishing. Cocky and yet sensual. Aftercare included. All the things your colleagues were too dumb to include, no wonder their scripts were a bust.

Yes, it was hell and therefore tastes were more... depraved than in the living world, but that didn't mean the populus secret wishes for some sort of common sexual decency was out the window, goddamn.

Your mind wandered away from your depressive ruminations, your hand never stopping its circular pattern around your swollen clit as your thoughts started to wander to its usual place, the only way that came close to what you longed for and what was the source for all of your best-selling porn scripts. Your boundless realm of fantasy.

'Come out, come out, wherever you are...'

Vox is standing in your doorway, his silhouette prominent against the bright white neon light coming from the corridor of the empty floor. His suit, neatly fitted to every curve of his slender body, is showing just how thin his waist really is, but that does not come even remotely close to describe his broad shoulders and firm, wide chest, contrasting it deliciously. His navy blue skin reflects the harsh lighting in the hallway, his screen sharp and clear, digital eyes never leaving you as he closes the door behind him, dipping the room you're in in darkness, the only source of light his brightly illuminated screen where his digital, mismatched eyes are solely fixated on you, hiding behind the long backrest of your couch.

'Found you, babydoll.' he says with that god forsaken sultry voice of his as he reaches for your throat, long fingers wrapping themselves around your neck as your breath hitches and he pulls you up from your crouched position, his long tongue running over your collarbones, the wet trails feeling as cold on your skin as his appendage feels hot. 'Now remember what I said? Ready or not...'

He presses you into a wall, his big, hard erection rubbing teasingly through the layers of fabric on your already wet core as you whimper with want. '... here I cum.'

You moan his name, the imagined feeling so painfully surreal, and you wished once more that your working fingers would elicit some sort of real, bodily response.

A cough makes you freeze in your movements. Your fantasy shatters like a mirror shot with a bullet and your eyes fly open, expecting to see maybe a dumb segment of a rerun of 'Vox2Nite'. Instead, you see the actual, real TV demon overlord, standing live and in color just a few strides away with an expression that was a mixture of confusion, curiosity and slight annoyance.

"I'd ask if I am interrupting, but it seems you already had me on your mind, huh, doll?"

Realizing that you weren't - in fact - hallucinating, you immediately whipped your hand out from under your panties, sitting up, flustered like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar. How did he get in? Did you forget to lock the door? No. Did he unlock it?! You must have missed his opening and closing of the door over the voice in your fantasy. The same voice that is now echoing in reality. Oh what a shameful ending for a perfectly good fantasy orgasm.

"Um... shit, sorry, Mr. Vox, sir. I was just, you know..." you scrambled, getting nervous under the actual gaze of him as he folded his arms, waiting for you to end that sentence with a pitiful smirk. Jesus Christ, those arms are slender and muscular…

"Thinking! Just thinking, making script... scenarios..."

"Uh-Huh. And how is that coming along?" He asked, seemingly unfazed by the display before him as he took a few steps towards you.

"Oh, uh, haha, I didn't really... finish..."

He stopped directly in front of you, shutting you up with a low chuckle and his hand around your wrist, the one attached to the hand that had been in between your folds just literal seconds ago, lifting them up to look at the still shimmering wet residue on your fingers with a sneer.

"Mhm. Yeah, I've heard you have some problems with that."

Now that was embarrassing as it was alarming, and you ripped your hand out of his grip. Or better, you tried to do so anyway. It was a pointless exercise, his hand had an iron-tight grasp around your wrist as he pulled you up with one swift motion, so fast you stumbled into him, face to chest, breath caught in your throat as you were made suddenly aware how huge he really was compared to you.

"W-wow, my kinda pathetic reputation precedes me it seems. That's..." just great is what you wanted to say, but all words failed you when he lifted the hand in his grasp to his face, his thick, long tongue slithering out of his mouth just to wrap itself around your digits, lapping up the sticky residue of your arousal, watching you as your pupils widen and you squirm in his grip, mortified and turned on at the same time.

"Eh. Not as pathetic as my business partner's failure to provide something he's built his reputation on, sweetheart. Unusually smart of him to get you under contract before you shout it from the rooftops." He hummed as he tasted you, sucking in the pads of your finger hungrily and without hesitation, and all you could think of, frozen stiff like a deer in headlights, was: What the fuck is happening?

"But Val never had the kind of mindset I have... I don't do failure... or better said: I always finish what I start." His low rasp vibrated in the air around him, echoing in your head, and the heat his voice had brought to your skin left your mind racing. You asked yourself panicking if you had written too many dumb porn plots or if he was really implicating what you thought he was implicating.

"So, whaddaya say, doll..." His breath tickled your cheek as he leaned in closer, pulling you flush against him, a soft grunt of content as his hard dick pressed into your soft belly, his mouth right next to your ear, one of his hands running teasingly down your sides as he licked your ear shell. "...care to see if I can end your unlucky streak?"

'Fuck, yeah.' You thought, and almost moaned out loud as you let your head fall back to make room for his waiting mouth, when suddenly you stopped in your tracks. His hands were already groping over you greedily, squeezing your ass, your thighs, your breasts as he looked down on you, surprised to see your conflicted face.

"W...Wait. What's in it... for you?"

"Mh, you're clever. That's a new one." Vox laughed, his hand running up to the side of your face to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing small circles on the corner of your lip. "Me and Val made a little bet, you see, and well... Let's just say: I want this to work out just as much as you do, since my success depends on yours."

"Oh.." So Val was talking about you, that bastard. He had you sign an NDA when he hired you, given that you had been unwilling to make a soul contract with him, but you guessed that that had been naively one-sided. Asshole.

Vox stroked your bottom lip, parting them before you opened them slightly on your own accord, his dark blue tongue languidly tracing the edges, waiting for your decision, coaxing you to decide in his favor. And even though you were kind of pissed at Valentino for running around telling people about your... situation - you couldn't deny it was tempting, turning fantasy into reality. And what was another overlord trying to do the impossible? Worst case - he'd try and fail, just as all the others did before, like the stupid moth pimp. At least you'd have some leverage for maybe another good deal for your silence on it. And in the highly unlikely best case…

With your decision made, you flicked your own tongue against his, humming at the unfamiliar taste and the sizzling static electricity on your tongue. Vox grinned, his sharp teeth pressing onto your lips, nipping at the sensitive flesh and growling with approval when your lips parted.

"Ohoho, baby, this is gonna be fun."

Vox ran his claws through your hair, loosening your already messy bun until your hair fell free with his playful pulls as he explored your mouth, deepening the kiss with every lick, until he could push his whole tongue into your mouth, moaning and grabbing the back of your head tightly as you let him fill you without the slightest hint of protest, fighting a desperate losing battle for air.

"Fuck, don't you need to... breathe?" you whispered after he finally pulled back, a wet trail connecting his tongue to yours, grinning down on you while your lungs burned for oxygen.

"Perks of being state of the art, sweetheart." he watched your swollen, drool covered lips - parted to catch your breath - for a few seconds longer before he inquisitively tilted his head. "Did you feel any of that?"

You contemplated lying, but figured honesty would probably be the best in this situation, shaking your head and giving him your most pitiful attempt at an apologetic smile, already bracing yourself for him to give up or get mad. "My lips tingle a little."

"Mh." He huffed as he pushed you back into the two-seater, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thump, and unceremoniously pulled on your very not-sexy-at-all sweatpants and slightly-more-sexy-but-not-quite panties until they slipped over your legs.

"How about this then?" He pressed his knee in between your legs to nudge them apart. "Can you feel any of this?" He spread your already wet slit open to run a cold claw over your hole, softly dipping first one, then two and lastly three of his fingers inside to stretch you further open and push it back in, repeating the movement slowly while keeping his eye contact trained on your face.

You hummed non-commitally, closing your eyes and pressing yourself into the cushions, trying to feel for any sensation that should come with every slow drag of his digits pumping inside of you, and not finding any of it was so fucking frustrating. You felt like you were not only disappointing yourself, but him, as stupid as that sounded. But with every added finger and still a lack of response, you saw the progression of frustrations in his face that you knew all too well - eyebrows furrowed, irritated twitches of the corners of his lips that turned into a snarl with the third added digit. You frowned, sighing and bit your lip - nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, and fucking nothing again, just another wet hole, the clenching of your walls a habit and reflex only, no pleasure whatsoever.

"It's no fucking use..." you whined, pressing your hands to your face in frustration and fear of looking back into his eyes, "I can't feel anything at a-aaAAH...!"

Your back arched at this strange jolt running down your spine, forcing you to grind down on his hand as a strong electric current buzzed from his claw tips right through your cunt, curling in your stomach in a hot wave of wanton need and knocking the wind out of you. Your eyes flew open just in time to see the flash of victorious satisfaction on his screen before his face turned fuzzy as you began to tear up.

"There's some reaction. There we go, sweetheart." He cooed and curled his fingers in that deliciously sinful way again, making your breath catch in your throat. For the first time since you can remember, you FELT. You dropped your hands from your flushed, hot face onto the plush of the couch, fingers desperately digging into the fabric, and stared at Vox with wide eyes. He winked, nudging his head to his buried fingers, and with a shattering gasp you could see neon blue bolts of electric sparks traveling down his slender arm, crackling around the soft flesh inside of your pussy that had never felt so sensitive.

"How are y-aaaa.... aaa-AAah...." he silenced any questions you might have had or possible retort with another shock wave traveling through his hand as he dragged his fingers in and out in an agonizingly slow pace, it had your ears ringing with white noise and your eyes water with unknown, strange pleasure.

You were shaking, and though it should have frightened you a lot more than it did to be electrocuted while doing something that could be considered borderline treason to Valentino (And it still had your cunt dripping on a whim), but there was nothing left for you to think of other than the sharp shocks making every nerve inside of you buzz, your thighs already trembling in anticipation of the possibility of an unknown, but oh-so-wanted climax. Yet it was somehow still out of your reach, out of your range of senses.

"I feel like we are getting closer, babydoll." The TV demon chuckled darkly, his voice over amplified, the electrical buzz reverberating loudly in the soundless room. "How 'bout we kick it up a notch, huh?"

He pulled out his fingers in a quick, cruel movement, making your pussy clench around nothing as you already mourned the feeling. Before you had the time to voice your loss however, he had your thighs already in his hands, pushing them back to almost fold you in half and spread them apart as wide as he could get them without hurting you. With a smirk he stuck out his tongue, inhumanely long, thick on its base and pointed at the end - and let his electric energy visibly spark around it. Holy Shit.

The moment his head dipped down and his appendage swiped through your puffed, red folds, you could feel your insides buzz in sync to his delighted moan. He began eating you out feverously and obscenely, not holding anything back, just like you wrote your most popular protagonists to do - NO, this was so much better than anything you've ever written or fantasized about, his tongue twisting in patterns that felt like nothing you've ever even came close to imagine before. It was like he powered your whole nervous system, overriding every strand of nerve with his own electricity, amplifying any touch, any lick and any suction that would normally not even register a thousand-fold.

"O-Oh my g... F-fffuuuuhhh-ck.. meeee..." you moaned in confusion and amazement, your legs shaking helplessly on either side of Vox's rectangle head as he fucked his tongue into you, switching between the deep, long, thorough thrusts and fast, small, teasing flicks into the wet heat of your cunt, coating his screen in a shining mix of your natural juices and his blue neon saliva. He sucked at the protruding of your swollen bundle of nerves, your sensitive clit twitching under his attention - it was maddeningly unreal. You felt like a complete, utter sham - if this was sex, you've never written it anywhere correctly.

"I'm working on that, sweetheart."

Vox smirked against your pulsing core, humming with satisfaction at your wet, gaping slit begging for him to push back in and fill you up again, making you ache for his tongue deeper and deeper, forcing every shred of sense you had to leave your mind as you bucked into his grip in desperation, chasing another intense jolt he held just out of your reach as he laughed deviously at your hungry reaction to his teasing antics.

You didn't care how pathetic you looked, how undignified or desperate you sounded. This was nothing short of fucking fantastic, this all new, unknown sensation that you deemed impossible to ever experience and an real, tangible orgasm so close you could almost grab it. You felt a violent greed, you needed more of this, more more more, you needed to cum and you knew exactly that only Vox was able to do it - but you needed him inside of you, pushing you into oversensitivity, no matter what was required to get you over the edge. Fuck all dignity, that ship had sailed the moment your back hit the couch.

You shook your head vigorously, choking down sobs of grateful pleasure that racked your body with every curl of his tongue inside of you and a guttural moan, high pitched and broken.

"P-Please... ah, Pl..please..." you panted and Vox felt for your thighs to hold you steady. His claws sank in with such force into the soft meat of your legs he drew blood. "F... Fu..Fuck me.. please." you stammered and he smirked, a look of pure joy in his digital eyes as he stared you down.

"Oh, I will, baby." He smiled against your core, curling the tip of his tongue around your clit with just the right amount of pressure that your entire vision went blank with a broken cry and the strongest wave of static he'd managed to work you up to so far. "Don't worry about that, I'm not nearly done with you."

He fucked his long, slippery tongue back into your quivering pussy, his thumb taking the place on the sensitive bundle of nerves where his pointy tip had been and you cried out again as he found that one spot you've always read (and written) about. You had questioned it's actual existence, believing it to be one of those wishful myths girls dreamt and you by proxy wrote about - Until Vox and his fucking talented mouth and miraculous tongue brushed right up against it with expert accuracy. It made your eyes roll to the back of your skull, mouth open to cry out as your back arched like a bow string.

"Yeah, there? F-Fuuuck..." The overlord growled, watching your blissful face twist with a new kind of overwhelming pleasure. "You gonna cum for me baby? Come on, let go, good girl..."

You knew the reader-pleasing phrase by heart. You used it a hundred times and fantasized about it even more - It shouldn't have that effect on you, but yet it was that comment of his, spoken in a raspy low rumble directly into your cunt that finally pushed you over the edge, leaving you panting helplessly and cumming.

Hard. Harder than you've ever dreamed about. Every nerve ending on overdrive, every hair standing on edge - it felt like getting struck by lightning, the static electricity sizzling through your blood vessels like a thunderstorm as he was still thrusting that goddamn magic tongue into your spasming hole through the clamping of your muscles, taking you through it with small, measured licks to keep you on the edge a little longer, whines and hiccups mixed with breathless laughs leaving your raw throat as you slowly returned to reality.

This was it, what you've always longed for, you realized after your vision came back to you, staring down at the smug looking TV demon who was still settled between your legs, his glowing screen painted with the remains of your climax. You managed to give him an exhausted smile, blowing a stray strand of wild hair from your face with a quick puff before dropping your head back in the pillow, absolutely spent. Vox pressed a toothy kiss on your thigh and pushed himself back to his feet.

"You've got quite the gushy orgasm, doll, damn..." he wiped a thick blotch of your arousal from the corner of his screen, the neon blue stained fingertip disappearing in his mouth as he hummed appreciatively and licked it away. Then he looked over you, slumped lazily on the sofa, your face flushed, your hair all tangled and the exposed pieces of skin covered with a shiny layer of sweat.

"Shit, sweetheart, you look goddamn good when you're all messed up like that..." He eyed you intently and leaned down, his heavy frame caging you in underneath him, one hand trailing a line from your still heaving chest, between your breasts and up to your throat.

"T-That was.. wow. Just... wow." Clearly illiterate and 50 IQ-points dumber post-orgasm, you cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself. While you were a little disappointed that you still hadn't really fucked, he did what he promised to do. Got you off - and how. You were grateful.

Sad that it was over, maybe even sadder that the chances of a repetition were likely zero - Vox was a goddamn overlord, and who were you other than a nobody with a hard-to-please cunt?- but grateful nonetheless. And you felt the need to let him know that.

"I don't know how to than... w-what are you doing?"

You sat yourself up on the elbows with a dumbfounded expression as Vox began to undress himself, his jacket, bow tie and undershirt discarded within seconds onto the ground and he practically pounced you as he began to undo the belt of his slacks, trapping you in between his legs and under the very prominent hard-on he sported.

"What, you really thought that was it? Make you cum once, win my bet and ding-dong-ditch like a fucking amateur?" Vox laughed as he pulled his massive length out of his pants - Words were your bread and butter but they would ever fail you to describe the gloriousness that was his cock.

Almost as thick as your underarm, smooth and almost shiny, glowing with built-in LED lights along the underside of his shaft and practically weeping with precum. He knelt down on the sofa, taking your hand to run it over its full length, smearing the sticky residue along your fingers, his almost bioluminescent cum dripping thick and slowly from the angry swollen tip. "Fuck no, sweetheart. In case you forgot, let me remind you..."

He leaned down to your ear, a violent electric bold jolting from his cock through your hand right into your overwhelmed, disbelieving brain as he guided you to line him up with your still throbbing entrance.

"I always finish what I start."

Vox had never been in a better mood.

His phone - finally surviving for more than just a few days, since his win against Valentino prevented the moth pimp from smashing it, even in one of his many temper tantrums - buzzed again. A notification of another upload into the cloud. He smirked when he saw the name of the user.

The whole conversation after he fucked Val's writing savant into Limbo and back had been a fucking blast for Vox - he reveled in the morbid joy of cashing in his stake while teasing Val that he'd have to wait another eternity for the chance to make Vox star in a double length porn with him - a fantasy of the moth Vox has been always against. Not to mention that Vox had accomplished what Valentino with all his 'mighty dicks and porn mastery'-aura couldn't. Which (rightfully) sent him into his biggest hissy fit yet, so enraged that, in lieu of Vox's phone to throw against the wall, he threw his newest Robo-Assistant Kitty out the window.

Although Vox had been certain he wouldn't lose the little bet against his partner, he still felt a little relief that his ass wasn't on the next new load of crappy porn DVDs. Granted, that would've surely caused sales to skyrocket - but with his revived and improved little star author that was more than just unnecessary.

Val's fears that a good dicking with a Happy End would sort of break the little writers 'Sex-Spell' and her scripts turn into shite like the rest of Val's useless crew produced proved to be the exact opposite. Ever since Vox made her cum - on his fingers, mouth and cock for multiple times that fateful night - her scripts improved even more, resulting in stellar sales reports, a major spike in cashflow and a personal inquiry letter for a meeting from Asmodeus himself (which Vox contemplated to frame and hang over his fucking bed like a medal of honor).

And since Valentino, in his hurt pride and childish, stubborn pettiness refused to speak or fuck with him, Vox had no qualms of paying his little writer a few more visits. Every time he found impish joy in finding new ways to make her cum, and after one shag-date where he actually stayed long enough for an after-sex-cigarette and some smalltalk, he discovered that she wasn't just a kinky, but also an interesting bitch with great taste in whiskey and a crude sense of humor that was just up his alley.

"I'm curious doll." Vox said as he took another drag from the cigarette before he handed her the bud, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her onto his bare chest as he lounged on the new, bigger sofa he got for her office (more space and much more versatility) "What the fuck did you do to end up in hell? You don't seem like the ax-murder type."

She chuckled mischievously. "I was a pretty popular crime author back upstairs. I hit a pretty bad writer's block, and decided to get in some field work to inspire me for more creative ways of murder. No axes, but I did have a fable for knives." She grinned, inhaling the thick smoke as he laughed and the way her tits pressed into his skin had him almost hard again. "You know what's the most ironic part?" She asked, putting the bud out in the ashtray on her side table and glanced back over her naked shoulder to him, a devious glint in her eyes. "I got the electric chair for that." That woke his cock fully up again, and he couldn't help but take her for another round.

His assistant babbled something about his schedule, but Vox didn't listen. Instead, he planned on visiting her office again, maybe he'd even stay after and order sushi for two, who knew? The media Overlord smiled smugly as he opened the database and looked over the newest script you had uploaded to the cloud. It was when he read the title that he burst into ringing laughter.

'Electrocutie - One Big Cock Shock'

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #vox x reader #vox fanfiction #vox being vox #vox smut #hazbin hotel x reader #give us the vock #valentino being a drama queen #valentino hazbin hotel #quickfic

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stevehours · 5 months ago

Text

drinking game

steve harrington x fem!reader

18+ minors dni, drinking, smut

wc: 4.4k

As far as first dates go, this is the lamest one you’ve been on. Which you’d somewhat anticipated when you agreed to it. Steve Harrington is a couple years younger than you. The kid’s barely twenty. But he is incredibly handsome and well, it’s been awhile for you. Steve’s wooing skills haven’t graduated high school, like he has. He insists on picking you up, gets to show off the car his daddy bought him. It is nice. Must’ve cost a fortune when he was gifted it on his sixteenth birthday. The damn thing has a telephone in it. Power seats and windows. And the seats heat up, he tells you. Though in the middle of August, it’s not really necessary. It has great speakers, proven by the cheesy, 70’s baby making music he’s blasting from them. You can’t imagine Steve actually listens to this, but that it’s an attempt to get you in the mood.

He brings you to a diner for dinner where he tries to share a milkshake with you and then it’s a trip to the drive-in movies. It’s ripped out of the 50’s. Especially the part where he tries to make out with you, which okay, yes you indulge in until he grabs a handful of your breast.

“Alright, Romeo,” you laugh, pushing him back, “Cool it down a little.”

“Sorry,” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and settles back into the driver's seat. His cheeks are ruddy, either with embarrassment or arousal, you aren’t sure.

“It’s fine—“ you tell him and adjust your blouse, “It’s kind of cute.”

“You’re really pretty,” he blurts out, smiling and it does make you giggle. But you feel a little childish right after, so you shove his head and tell him to keep watching the movie.

Must be a win for Steve because that saccharine smile doesn’t leave his face.

After the movie, he starts driving but not in the direction of your apartment. He glances at you, “I’m having a really good time. Would you be up for maybe coming back to my place? For a drink or something?”

“Your place?” you snort, crossing your arms but you’re already convinced.

Steve blushes again, “Well, I live there. My parents are like, barely home. Business trips and stuff.”

“Alright, Harrington,” you shrug, “It’s early. Let’s do it.”

—

“It’s called Flip, Sip or Strip,” he says, holding up a quarter and looking at you under hooded eyes.

You cackle, fingers delicately holding the crystal wine glass that’s definitely worth more than anything you own. You didn’t know Steve’s parents were so loaded, though the car should’ve been the indicator. The pair of you are sitting in the living room of the Harrington home. It’s so intricately designed, the entire house following the same decorative theme. And it’s remarkably clean for a place a young man lives alone 75% of the time. You wonder if there’s a housekeeper that comes and cleans up after Steve.

“You want to play a drinking game?” you scoff, crossing your legs and you don’t miss the way Steve’s eyes follow the movement.

“You’ve heard of it, then?”

“Not since freshman year of college but, sure, let’s play,” you placate him, leaning back in the chaise lounge. In the back of your mind you’re wondering why expensive furniture is so uncomfortable. Steve scrambles from the equally looking stiff couch, opening what you can assume is his parents liquor cabinet. Under the record player that plays that same cheesy, romantic 70’s R&B he was blasting in the BMW.

He sets two glasses and a bottle of tequila on the coffee table and then pats the cushion next to him on the couch.

You raise an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t it be better to stay here? So you can actually see me?”

“Good point,” he grins excitedly and then says, “You first. Call it.”

“Heads,” you slur in a sultry voice, smirking at the way he looks back at you all slack-jawed.

Then Steve flips the coin in the air, catches it in his palm and slaps it on his forearm. He uncovers it and gets this real mischievous smile on his face. He doesn’t even have to announce it, you know the coin is tails up. You laugh and lean forward to grab the bottle of tequila, pouring yourself a small shot and downing it with ease. Then you extend your palm out and Steve hands you the coin. You watch him expectantly until he says, “Tails.”

You flip it, catching it in your hand and flipping it onto your arm. You giggle as you uncover it, wiggling your eyebrows at Steve when you tell him, “Heads.”

He shucks off his coat, tossing it behind him and making grabby hands for the quarter. You roll your eyes as you drop it into his hand and tell him, “Heads.”

Steve flips the coin and then his face scrunches up in disdain, “Heads.”

You snatch the coin from his hand as you cackle triumphantly. A few more rounds go on, you take off your heels with Steve’s eyes glued to your feet and he takes a shot. Then you’re challenged again to either take a drink or remove another bit of clothing. And you’re honestly feeling that shot of tequila so you’d rather not take another so quick. Hence, your tights come off. Steve watches the motion and chews on his bottom lip.

“You a virgin, Harrington?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together.

He laughs, almost offended as he shakes his head, “Far from it. You’re just too good to look at. Anyone tell you that you could be a model?”

“Flattery will get you almost anywhere. Heads or tails, big boy?” you smooth your thumb against the warm quarter.

He guesses correctly, but you don’t on your turn. And so off comes your blouse. Steve spreads his legs across from you, hands smoothing down his jeans as he grins salaciously at you. He incorrectly guesses tails and then pulls off his polo, exposing this jungle of chest hair you’re shocked by. A smug smirk spreads across his lips as your mouth hangs open. And he’s got all these moles decorating his gorgeous skin like constellations. He combs his own fingers through his chest hair and leans back on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Still has his Nikes on.

You scowl as you throw the quarter at him, “Heads.”

And you lose, but you opt for another shot as you feel far more exposed than Harrington is.

A few more rounds leads to you both pleasantly buzzed and in your underwear.

“This game is stupid,” you decide when you incorrectly guess again.

Steve giggles and tosses the coin on the coffee table, “That’s okay. I’d rather take those off myself anyways.”

You hate that it works, makes your thighs warm up with dull arousal as you take your eyes over Steve’s body. He’s lean, soft but very faintly muscular. And those moles go all over him. All the way down to his feet. You heave a sigh and stand from the chaise lounge, stepping in between Steve’s legs and grabbing a hole of his square jaw. He blinks up at you, mouth ajar with fucking stars in those round, brown eyes.

“You have a really stupid, cute face,” you tell him, pushing his thick hair off his forehead.

“Uh, thanks?” he replies and you straddle his lap, pushing both hands into the waves of chestnut hair. You look at it, eyes narrowing.

“Do you have highlights?” you ask.

“Naturally— from the sun and—“ he starts but you interrupt him.

“Bullshit,” you grab onto his jaw again, “You get highlights in your hair.”

“No, I don’t,” he narrows his eyes and you completely seat yourself on his lap, feeling his erection press against your ass. You grind down on it and he lets out a gargled moan, his eyelids fluttering shut.

“You do,” you tell him and then get your lips on his jaw, feeling the subtle stubble against your face. You lick against his jawline, pushing your fingers in his hair and pulling his head back to give you more room. You begin kissing down his neck and his hands grab onto your hips, guiding you up and down against his strained, hard cock. The whole hair argument is completely forgotten by Steve, his hips jerk weakly as he leans his head back and lets out these pretty, soft sounds. The kind of sounds that make your stomach fill with excited, horny butterflies.

You mark up his neck, the skin purpling from your pleasurable abuse. Suck and bite until bruises form and Steve’s whimpering underneath you. You relent on his neck, pulling his head back to look at you as you writhe against him. His hands skate up your sides and back down, landing on your ass and pushing you harder against his erection. And you get a real good look at his pretty face. His eyes tilt down slightly at the ends and they’re so full of desire. Wonderfully expressive and beautiful. You look up at his brows, smiling to yourself as you notice they’re manicured, just ever so slightly. This man takes care of himself. More than most. His complexion is remarkably smooth. You drag your fingertip down the bridge of his nose to the tip, smiling at the sharpness of it. Then you settle your eyes on his lips as they quirk up into a smile, he likes how you’re looking at him. Admiring him. His lips are plump, pink from the way he’s been biting at them all night.

“You’re pretty,” you whisper, dragging your thumb across his bottom lip and he kisses the pad of it. Sending your stomach ablaze as you roll down on him a little firmer.

“You’re prettier,” he replies, voice husky.

“How come you don’t have a girlfriend?” you ask, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I haven’t asked you, yet,” he tells you, smirking as he smooths his hand up your back to your bra. Unclasps it with two fingers, impressing a gasp from you and he smiles, straight and white teeth on display.

You help pull the straps from your arms and discard the lacy fabric aside, wrapping your arms around his neck again and then leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss. You don’t think too much about what he’d just said, this is fun and you’ve just met. This is the first date, you barely know each other. But while this started out as a lame date, you feel uncharacteristically smitten at this point.

Steve kisses like he needs it. Hungry. Like his oxygen supply comes from your lungs and he’s been suffocating all night. Makes you breathless and dizzy. You whimper into each desperate exchange, sucking on his tongue whenever he slips it past your lips. His arms wrap around your middle, pulling you completely flush against him. Your hands get tangled in his hair yet again, a little obsessed with the way it feels between your fingers. Your noses keep bumping into each other and his pokes your eye a handful of times but it doesn’t slow either of you down.

You lift yourself up and Steve offers a whine until he sees you’re moving to take off your underwear, then he’s helping get them off and you’re situating yourself between his legs on the floor. Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his briefs and peeling them down his thighs, gasping when his impressive length pops out and slaps against his abdomen. You give yourself a beat to look at it as Steve spreads his legs and writhes against the couch. Chewing on your bottom lip, you wrap your hands around the base of him. Your fingers don’t even meet when they’re circled around his girth.

“Christ,” you mutter and he laughs, a soft and almost insecure sound.

“I- I know, it’s kind of—“

“Huge?”

“Scary?” he asks, tilting his head as he gazes down at you.

It’s your turn to laugh, wondering how many girls have told him that. You’re not scared, no, the opposite.

“Not scary,” you tell him, “I’m thoroughly impressed.”

“Yeah? I’ve… I’ve been told it’s too—“ he swallows and his eyes squeeze shut as you stroke his length firmly.

“Too big?” you offer and work your hand up and down his gargantuan cock slowly, “I like a challenge, Stevie.”

He laughs again, but it’s a breathless laugh. He opens his eyes again and watches as you lick a broad stripe up the underside of his cock. His eyebrows furrow, lips parting with a sweet whine. You wrap your lips around the head of him, tasting the salty precum leaking from his slit. As you grip onto the base of him and attempt to take him into your mouth, you can feel just how hard he is. You lock your eyes on his, slowly sinking down on his cock. Drool slips past your lips and down the rest of his length, your hand slides up and smears the natural lube over him. You continue like that, fingers moving up and down where you can’t fit him in your mouth. You make a conscious effort to breathe out of your nose and use your tongue while you bob up and down on his cock.

Steve watches intently, thighs shaking as he tries his hardest not to buck his hips up. Just the size of him has spit pooling in your mouth and seeping down his length all the way to his heavy balls. His face looks extra pretty right now. Dazed and drunk on the pleasure, perhaps some of the tequila too.

His hands tangle into your hair, holding it out of the way as you continue your way up and down his cock.

“That’s it,” he breathes out, chest heaving as he praises you, “Doing so good for me.”

Those words hit you, make you moan on his length and wiggle your hips. You try to take him as deep as you can before pulling off, working your fist over his cock as you catch your breath. Once he’s not in your mouth, he bucks his hips and moans out shakily.

“Oh, fuck…” he seethes, his toes curling into the carpet.

You move your mouth to his balls then, still working his shaft in your hand and you start licking at his sack. Keeping your eyes trained on his gorgeous face. Steve blinks rapidly, rolling his hips up and spewing the prettiest little moans. And you’re kind of obsessed with his face at this moment, the absolute pleasure painted on it.

“So fucking pretty,” you tell him because you really can’t help yourself and Steve seems to like it, tugging on your hair and whining.

“C’mere… wanna kiss you,” he babbles out and you stand on shaky legs before crawling back into his lap and kissing him sloppily. He wraps his arms around your middle and thrusts his hips up, the side of his cock gliding through your folds and punching a surprised moan from you, which he swallows. Then his hands move down and firmly plant on your asscheeks. At first you assumed Steve was close to coming but the way he’s grinding you down on his cock tells you otherwise— he just really wanted to kiss you.

Then Steve pulls away, “Can I taste you? Please?”

You’re not inclined to say no to that, nodding your head emphatically and standing up from his lap again. You make a move to lay down on the couch, but Steve’s laying down first and grabbing at you.

“Sit on my face, please,” he whines and you flush, but do as he asks. Maneuvering your leg over his shoulders, you hover and look down at him. As if to ask if he’s sure. Which he answers by pulling you down on him, his warm and wet mouth meeting your dripping cunt. You moan out, hands grabbing onto the armrest to keep yourself upright as Steve devours your aching pussy. He’s moaning into you, seemingly loving the taste as he sucks and licks at your folds. Once you’re comfortable and downright desperate, you begin riding Steve’s gorgeous face. His hands are planted firm on your ass, guiding you through it.

“I’ve been dying to taste you all night,” he manages to tell you, pulling you off of him just the smallest inch before he’s dragging your pussy back down against his eager mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” you mutter out, “You’re so good at that…”

He really is, uses his whole face to do it. Nose rubbing against your clit, tongue teasing your hole while you drip all over his chin. You try to look down at him, lock eyes with his dazed, pussy-drunk ones but the pleasure gets overwhelming and your eyes start to flutter shut as you grind down on his expert tongue and really use his nose to get off. Your stomach fills with fire, your release gaining in ok you quickly. And once Steve’s tongue penetrates you, you’re a goner. Crying out his name in desperate pleas as you ride your orgasm out. You’re shaking when you pull off of him abruptly, worried that you’re about to suffocate him. And as you stand, looking down at him, you can’t help but giggle at the look on his face. Steve looks like he just came. Blinking slowly, a pleased smile plastered on his pink lips.

He stands with you, laces your fingers and kisses you softly. You can taste yourself on his lips but you don’t mind, giggling into it.

“Can I take you to my bedroom?” he asks once he pulls away.

You nod, shyly and looking up at him with stars in your eyes. He guides you up the stairs, stopping along the way to steal kisses. You’re not sure the last time you felt so much romance tangled in with sex. He presses you to the wall next to his bedroom door, swoops his mouth down to capture yours in a disproportionate chaste kiss. Again, linking your fingers and holding them above your head as he connects his forehead to yours.

“Don’t laugh— okay?”

You giggle, gazing up at him curiously, “Sorry. I won’t.” It’s unclear exactly what Steve’s asking you not to laugh at, but once he opens his bedroom door, you get it. It’s the ugliest bedroom you’ve ever seen. Everything is drenched in plaid, the wallpaper, the curtains, the bedspread. All so offensive. You bite your lip to stifle the laugh, but it all dissolves when you turn to watch Steve close the door and get a glimpse at his cock which is very much still hard. Then his bedroom doesn’t seem so silly anymore. Your hand wraps around his length as you press him against the door, kissing him filthy all over again.

Steve whimpers from the touch, muffled against your tongue as he places his hand on your face and holds you while he kisses back.

“I need you,” he slurs into your mouth and you nod, kissing him before you walk towards his bed. You lay yourself on it, head on his pillows as you bring your hands up to fondle your own tits. Watching as Steve’s hand falls down to his cock, stroking himself slowly. He then climbs on top of you, kissing you tenderly before he’s reaching over to his nightstand but something tells you to stop him, so you do. Hand on his wrist.

“No… I,” you swallow, lust driving this decision completely, “I wanna feel you… just you.”

Steve inhales sharply, moves his hand to push his cock down for some relief as he says to you, “Fuck… are you sure?”

You wrap your arms around his neck as you nod slowly at him, spreading your legs for him. He drops his head down to kiss you, all slow and gentle. His hand slips between your bodies, grabbing his cock and teasing the head of it against your aching center. You gasp softly, hands tangled in his hair as your hips roll, causing the tip of his cock to catch on your dripping hole. Steve sinks in slowly, inch by inch. It’s quite the stretch, has your jaw dropping as you adjust. His cock is hot and thick, you can feel it pulsing as it drags against your walls. It’s so delicious and heady, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and your hips roll up until he’s completely sheathed inside you. And Steve’s gentle, doesn’t jack hammer into you immediately like most men would. He stays still and lets you get used to the feeling, kissing you softly and tenderly between needy moans and gasps.

“Feel so full,” you confess in a whisper and that gets Steve thrusting into you, groaning lowly against your lips.

“Yeah?” he asks, “You’re so fucking wet and tight… squeezing my cock so good.”

“Oh, Steve,” you moan, tugging his hair while he slowly builds a steady and deep rhythm. His hand moves to grab your thigh, squeezing it while he grinds down into you. The tip of his cock prods against that spongy, sweet spot inside you. Punches a yelp out of you to which he looks down at you, panicked.

“You okay?” he asks, blinking rapidly.

You nod, scratching down his back as you plead, “Fuck, yes… right there, do it again.”

A smile spreads across his lips, pretty teeth showing as he thrusts into you again. And again. Your back arches with it, pressing your tits to his chest as your legs spread further on their own volition. You place your hand on his cheek, watching his stunning face as he sinks in and out of your pussy, the filthiest sounds echoing in the room. He licks his lips, brow furrowing as his thrusts get harder and faster. Each time, he rubs against that bundle of nerves deep inside you. Dragging the most pornographic sounds you’ve ever made from your throat. You’re not sure you could recover from this, suddenly really hoping he does ask you to be his girlfriend. The two of you have barely even started and it’s the best you’ve ever felt in your life. His cock filling you in a way that makes you want to cry, in a good way.

“Steeeeeve…” you moan out, low and uncontrollably. “Fuck… that’s so good. Just like that, baby… yes…”

His lips are on your ear now, lowly telling you, “Taking me so well… such a good girl…”

Your cunt clenches around him, little desperate and pleasure filled pants and moans pouring out of you. “Steve, Steve… oh, Steve!” you chant, scratching down his back a second time.

His hips still and he laughs, burying his face in your neck as he mumbles, “Fuck- fuck, don’t wanna cum yet.”

You grab his face and pull his lips to yours, unhooking your legs from his waist as you kiss him deeply. Tongues lazily curling together, panting into each other's open mouths. You give him a beat to come back down, then you’re flipping the pair of you. Get Steve on his back and you on top of him, without disconnecting where you two meet. You place your hands on his furry chest, feeling the jungle of hair you’ve been staring at since he took his shirt off that night. His hands grip onto your hips, gasping and panting as he stares up at you, awestruck look on his beautiful face.

“You’re so pretty,” you tell him again and he laughs, that wonderful breathless sound you’re starting to fall in love with. Which is dangerous but right now, you don’t care.

“I’ve got the prettiest girl on top of me… and she’s telling me I’m pretty,” he mumbles out, dazed smile on his face.

“You are,” you assure him just as you start to rock your hips, face confronting as you feel his cock prod at that sweet spot deep inside you again. Your eyes cross from it, eyebrows knitting together as you bite your lip and you begin riding him steadily. Slow and gentle at first but soon enough, you’re bouncing up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby… just like that…” Steve babbles out, snaking his hand around and his thumb finds your clit easily. Works in quick, firm circles. Has you riding him even faster and harder as your climax threatens to rush over you. Building and building so quickly.

“Steve…. Steve?” you whimper.

Sweet, lopsided smile on his face when he asks, “Yeah, baby?”

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” you confess, scratching your nails against his chest as you grind down on his length.

Steve keeps up his ministrations on your clit, doesn’t switch anything up. But he heaves this happy, aroused laugh and tells you, “Cum for me, cum all over my cock. Use me.”

Your body tenses when it hits you, sending you over the edge and you collapse on top of him. Face buried in his neck as you spew cries and moans. He grabs your hips, holds you steady and plants his feet on the mattress. That’s when he lets loose, thrusts into you with everything he’s worth. Mouthing praise against your ear as he fucks you silly.

Your eyes roll back, his thrusts punching repetitive and loud moans from your lungs.

“Fuck— I’m gonna— fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns and squirms underneath you but you make no attempt to move.

“Fill me up, Steve,” you whisper against his ear, kissing under it and then telling him, “Wanna feel it. Cum inside me, baby.”

He lets out a gargled moan, arms wrapping around you firmly as he thrusts one last time and releases inside you, coating your walls with his spend. Your lips meet again, lazily and spent kisses as you both come down.

Steve strokes your hair, holds you close and kisses your cheek before he asks, “You wanna stay the night?”

“Yeah.. yeah, I do,” you reply, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead. “As long as you make you breakfast.”

“I’ll make you anything you want,” he says with a smile before flipping you over and kissing you deeply.

And okay… maybe it wasn’t such a lame date.

#steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington

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ittybittyfanblog · 2 days ago

Text

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol. Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Chapter 1

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night.

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that.

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break.

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?”

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around.

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five.

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much.

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding.

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd.

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal.

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time.

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia?

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend–

Ping!

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts – and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart.

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address?

Ah, just like clockwork.

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals – for more than you’d care to admit – to boot up.

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give – pay – for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress.

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion.

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain.

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?”

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man – what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character.

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself– or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some.

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic – the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life.

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well.

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin.

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness.

What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.”

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue.

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means.

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!”

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game, you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different.

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.”

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night.

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face.

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.”

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%.......

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?”

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary.

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever.

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock.

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?”

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face.

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter.

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.”

Helplessly, you open your inventory next.

Your jaw drops.

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.”

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this– this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada.

Holy shit.

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes.

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?”

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative.

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks.

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose.

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut.

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie.

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk.

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC.

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning – or until your battery dies, whichever comes first – you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.”

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic

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