#he has to keep wearing black😮‍💨😮‍💨

[circuscl0wn]

OH MY FUVKING GOSH I FOUND A BETTER ONE

When the instrumental switched to Doja Cats “Streets” I damn near fainted😭 I wanna **** *** **** *** ******* *** **** 🥴😵‍💫

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually. 

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body. 

You pretended to be dead. 

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky. 

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly. 

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands. 

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it. 

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.” 

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up. 

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening. 

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest. 

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.  

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort. 

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.” 

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character. 

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it. 

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up. 

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood. 

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?” 

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull. 

Missions were rarely a failure. 

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.” 

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?” 

“None. Just us.” 

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.” 

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway. 

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it. 

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it. 

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation. 

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room. 

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly. 

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off. 

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin. 

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction. 

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.” 

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue. 

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in. 

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight. 

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends. 

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore. 

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him.  “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh. 

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why. 

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden. 

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions. 

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them. 

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too. 

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue. 

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch. 

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined. 

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you. 

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like. 

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse. 

This couldn’t continue. 

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side. 

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.” 

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air. 

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met. 

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires. 

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?” 

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?” 

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up. 

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.” 

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth. 

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas. 

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless. 

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds. 

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up. 

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though. 

On the second week, it got easier. 

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area. 

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over. 

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table. 

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally. 

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails. 

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind. 

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you. 

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces. 

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair. 

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse. 

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up... 

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!” 

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp. 

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor. 

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers. 

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated. 

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug. 

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly. 

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air. 

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure. 

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.” 

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly. 

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward. 

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game. 

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching. 

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet. 

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table. 

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?” 

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.” 

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you. 

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss. 

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.” 

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it. 

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking. 

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second. 

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos. 

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat. 

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages. 

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out. 

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.” 

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?” 

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room. 

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out. 

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently. 

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.” 

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation. 

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.” 

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back. 

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat. 

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney. 

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly. 

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful. 

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand. 

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing. 

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.” 

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair. 

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back. 

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine. 

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts. 

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high. 

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river. 

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask. 

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare. 

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it. 

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh. 

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already. 

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk. 

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…” 

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be. 

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.” 

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip. 

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able. 

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second. 

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table. 

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion. 

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?” 

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer. 

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix. 

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob. 

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.” 

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality. 

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer. 

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.” 

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own. 

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies. 

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep. 

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.” 

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though. 

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect. 

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt. 

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you. 

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back. 

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw. 

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms. 

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile. 

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.” 

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting. 

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial. 

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action. 

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot. 

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad. 

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you. 

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute. 

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast

[newkatzkafe2023]

THE BALLADS OF SUN WUKONGS👑🐒

Yandere Monkey king Harem x Manipulative Queen reader

Chapter 2 Enter Monkey Queen Y/N

One morning Netflix Wukong had woke up from a nap as he heard knocking on the door he groaned and open the door to find no one but he did see a shiny green scroll on the ground.

(Netflix Wukong) WHAT?! I woke up for this?

(Lmk Wukong) What is it Netflix????

(Netflix Wukong) I don't really know it's a scroll of some kind, but I don't know what it's for

Lmk Wukong took the scroll and looked over it before releasing what it was and grew excited, he pulled Netflix inside their shared house.

(Lmk Wukong) GUYS GUESS WHAT?!?!?!? HEAVEN HAS INVITED US TO ONE OF THERE PARTIES?!?!?!?🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩

(Wukongs) WHAT?!🤨🤩😜🫨🤯

(Destined one)😲😲😲

the monkey kings have finally received an invite from the Jade emperor to a celestial ball. Some were cocky and excited about being directly invited, but those like HIB Wukong and the destined one were suspicious of this whole set up.

(HIB Wukong) You guys do know that this is clearly a trap right???🤨🤨🤨

(Destined one)(obviously)😑😑😑😑

(NR Wukong) oh come on lighten up a bit😄

(BMW Wukong) He's right, I bet they now realized how great we are😏

(HIB Wukong) I really don't know, There's something they're hiding And they want us to take the blame for it🤔

(MKR Wukong) Oh, please they know better than to mess with us, We'll just trash the palace again.😈

(NR Wukong) that was a great bros trip☺️

(Lmk Wukong) Look, let's just go to the party and just keep our guard up. It's fine😁

(Destined one)(I guess)😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

(HIB Wukong) Yeah ok😑😮‍💨

Later that night, the monkey kings, along with the destined one, had arrived at the Celestial ball and saw many Deities and immortals in expensive suits and dresses. The monkeys were greeted by the jade emperor himself who saw them at the door.

(Old Jade) Welcome monkey kings, it is great that you all decided to come tonight please enjoy the festivities for tonight

(MKR Wukong) Ugh 10 minutes and I'm already bored😠

(BMW Wukong) I know I think I'm just drink in the back of the ball😒😒

(NR Wukong) I'm down for that😁😁😄😄

So the Wukongs went to do their own things, drinking, dancing, chatting with each other as the HIB and the destined one would monitor and keep an eye on anyone suspicious. Though soon the jade emperor had gathered the crowd saying that he had an announcement.

(Jade emperor) WELCOME EVERYBODY TO THE ANNUAL EVENT, I AM GLAD THAT YOU ALL DECIDED TO COME TONIGHT!!!

As the crowd of celestials and deities and immortals clapped, the monkey kings rolled their eyes at the old man.

(Jade emperor) I WANT TO ANNOUNCE TWO THINGS FOR TONIGHT, FIRST I AM PLEASE TO INTRODUCE THE NEW PALACE GUARD CAPITAN JIN ZHĀNG!!!!

The crowd claps again as a one-armed demon walks on stage, waving to the crowd, the monkey kings acting indifferent while destined one, claps as a curtesy apparently he gained popularity and was promoted for saving the jade emperor's daughter. Big deal🙄😒

(Jade Emperor) NOW FOR MY NEXT ANNOUNCEMENT IS THE ARRIVAL OF A NEW GUEST, PRESENTING THE QUEEN OF THE GORILLAS AND MONKEYS AND GODDESS REVENGE AND DESIRE I GIVE YOU!!!!!!

Soon a tall, muscular woman had appeared on top of the stair case wearing a black leather and dark blue dress and the monkeys jaws were touching the floor with a dark blush on their face.

(Jade emperor) QUEEN Y/N L/N!!!!!!!!!!!!

And the crowd goes wild as a beautiful monkey/gorilla hybrid reveals herself to the crowd, although she doesn't show much interest in the people applauding her. The monkey boys were chirping and purring at the sight of us as Netflix Wukong and the destined one silently blushing at us.

(Jade emperor) And queen y/n is also looking for a new husband as well

(Queen Y/n) Must you always tell people that��

the monkeys grew excited about this news as you rolled your eyes as you bought up the nominations list of different types of bachelors including the monkey kings + the destined one.

The nominations for being Y/n's new betrothal came🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶

Being Her new husband and king became their claims🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶

You had displayed the list of men that had potential of marrying you.

(Pai Wang)(a ox rich demon merchant)

(Rui Bai)(a demon cat tailor)

(Fu Gao)(a gladiator demon Wolf)

(Aizen Cai)(a demon Fish Scholar)

(Ming Li)(A demon crane tutor)

(Kai Du)( Demon Tiger Mercenary)

(Jin Zhāng)(New Captain of the Celestial Guards)

(The Sun Wukongs+ Destined one)(the monkey kings)

The Wukongs jaws Dropped seeing they were immediately considered by you to be your husbands until they heard something that Partially shattered their world 🌎

Until gossip spread as the celestials claim Jin Zhāng to be (Y/n)'s new betrothal🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶

(PITY DATES!!!!!!!!😨😰😱)

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG 👑

[imagineredwood]

Ok but the real question is who would YOU want to be chased by. Let us into your sexy kinky little brain miss redwood

This is all consenting by the way 💕 Please tell me if there’s tags I should put this under for triggers please

My personal #1 choice is Angel. He’s tall and his legs are so long I feel like he’ll catch up so fast you don’t stand a chance which is scarier 🤭 Then I just think about how cocky and taunting he’d be. “Better run faster, baby. I’m right behind you.” “Aw, are you getting tired?” Calling you names, some sweet, some…not. I can imagine him cooing at you when he gets too close and sees you start to panic a little when you look back 🥺 “I won’t hurt you too bad baby, just let me catch you. You must be so tired” He’d be the type to sometimes not even really run, just walk fast because he knows he’ll catch you anyway. When he gets right on your heels he might even let you get away just to keep the chase going. Also what about his rings glittering in the moonlight if it’s dark The way he’d pin you down when he finally has enough and catches you 😮‍💨 he’ll have you laying on the floor getting you all dirty or maybe against a tree, his ringed hand pressing your cheek into the bark to keep you still.

But I have reasons for the others too 🧠 Angel is just the loml 🥰 I think Coco would be terrifying. Quiet and sneaky, using his skills as a sniper against you. Might even sneak up ahead of where he knows you’ll go just to scare you into another direction. He’ll wear all black and sometimes he just looks like a shadow. Just like Angel when he finally cuts the shit and catches you.

Bishop would be another slow one, stalking you more than chasing. He’ll smoke while he does it. Doesn’t care that you can see then smoke or end burning that can give his away. Also very taunting. “Are those legs getting tired, pretty girl? I can see they are.”

EZ puts in work. He does cardio and has endurance. I think he’d be the type to actually chase you, makes it a little lighter than the others, he laughs while he runs after you. Chases you to a specific area where he already has a soft thick blanket laid out for where he’ll take you down safely.

Jax I think would be another hunter type. Cocky and makes little jokes, but his heart is pounding and he teases you making sure you know you’re not gonna get away from him 😓

[austinslounge]

Now you really got me losing my shit. A RED CARPET LOOK!!! babe I would completely loose my absolute loving mind. That buzz in a fly ass outfit bc Austin always brings the fashion. Ahhhhhhh. ok daddy!! 😅😮‍💨 sighs dreamily* I wouldn’t survive

I would no lie have to hit a NY premier or TV appearance or something just to see it in person.

Also even though I think Austin is very diverse in the way he grew up and his friendships so he gives this vibe anyway BUT def now gives all the black people fuck with me vibe. I swear all the white boys at my school that we fucked with had a buzz cut.

my bad this is all over the place I’m spiraling 😭😮‍💨

Now you really got me losing my shit. A RED CARPET LOOK!!! babe I would completely loose my absolute loving mind. That buzz in a fly ass outfit bc Austin always brings the fashion. Ahhhhhhh. ok daddy!! 😅😮‍💨 sighs dreamily* I wouldn’t survive

I've had the same thoughts girlie 🥵

And now that we know that "Masters of the Air" has been nominated for the Critics Choice awards, I'm just envisioning him on the red carpet at that event. Let me fantasize about it. 😭

Can you imagine Austin in a buzzed cut on the red carpet, wearing THIS??

I will go ahead and join you in the grave if that ever happened lol 😂

Keep in mind that last year's Critics Choice Awards were held on January 15th, 2023 (the one Austin attended).

Next year's Critics Choice awards will be held on Sunday, January 12, 2025. So, his hair will still be short. 😏

Get ready ladies!! We might be seeing our Bald Bae on the red carpet sooner than we think! 😁

I'm also crossing my fingers to see him present maybe at the Golden Globes or the Oscars next year!

Also even though I think Austin is very diverse in the way he grew up and his friendships so he gives this vibe anyway BUT def now gives all the black people fuck with me vibe. I swear all the white boys at my school that we fucked with had a buzz cut.

Omg, he does lol 🤭🙈

I definitely get the vibe that he gets along with practically everybody haha.

[eliteseven]

hold on tell me more about shadowheart and serena's horses

Oh I’d love to 🥹💕they actually have several! But they each have their “main” horse that they would also take into combat:

Shadsy has a horse named Naïlo in Elvish/Espruar and she has a stark black coat! Which is fitting, because her name translates to “Night breeeze”. Arnell named her 🥰

She’s very smart and not at all skittish: as evidence by her refusal to run when Shads was attacked in the last chapter of ABW. But she does have an attitude and will express it to Shadowheart via huffs and whinnies. Shads braids her hair often, keeps her mane in pretty condition, and is your typical horse girl around her.

Serena has a bigger mount (she wears heavier armor, too) think like…classic Andalusian in terms of size and stature. I imagine him to be dappled maybe?

I REALLY want her to have a war horse in Cormyr that she reunites with/purchases when they move into the cottage and build the stables. (Maybe we retcon in such a way that Althaea rides him to her place for her).

I think they should have a history together, like…he was her assigned war horse and he just absolutely loathed her for months and would buck her off constantly. They should have a sweet story of how they earned each other’s trust over time and how she came to rely on him in wartime!

I feel like he’d have a badass single word name too, but in common…so like… Ruin 😮‍💨

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Black Reader - The Bodyguard Part 2/8

Yeah, this picture should be illegal.😮‍💨

Summary - Reader is a popstars in trouble and Ruben is her new bodyguard, here to protect and help her find out who wants to hurt her. But what happens when the relationship between Reader and Ruben simply gets too personal?

Enjoy!

Although in doubt at first, you eventually got used to having a bodyguard, someone following you around wherever you went. For the most part Ruben kept his distance, a silent flash in the corner of your eye. He didn't speak if not spoken to and he drove in a separate car than you and Taylor just to have a better eye on what was happening in the street. It all seemed like standard protocol for a bodyguard. However, you quickly found out what mite distinguish Ruben from others in his field.

One sunny afternoon, you found yourself longing for a fun-filled shopping spree with your close friends. Follwing a long week of rehearsal and studio sessions, not to mention the many interviews. You yearned for a taste of normalcy, away from the glaring spotlight and hordes of people wanting things from you. Determined to make your dream a reality, you shared your plans with your management team, a.k.a. your sister, oblivious to the storm it would soon unleash.

"What do you mean you need a break?"

"It's just one day off."

"A day off? Y/N do you know how much preparations we still have ahead of the drop of your new album, ahead of the tickets release of your world tour?"

"I do and that's why I need one day to reset. I just want to go downtown with Elvis and Keke. They say there's a huge sale on Birkin bags."

"God, why did you give me this job of taking care of someone who never listens?"

"Because he knows I need you." You smiled.

She sighed. "You've got two hours."

"Four."

"Three and you're taking Ruben with you."

"No way!"

"Yes way, especially if you're going out with those crazy friends of yours."

Ruben hadn't expected you to leave the apartment today and he definitely didn't expected you to barge into his room without knocking first.

"Oh, sorry." You said, lowering your gaze at the sight of a shirtless Ruben.

"Do you mind?"

"I'm sorry I..."

Ruben was just another shirtless man, nothing to be flushed about. However you had never seen that much outline of muscle on a human being before.

"I'm just letting you know that I'm going out." You said, speaking to him but looking at your feet.

"Alright, just give me a minute and I'll be right there."

"Right."

You slowly raised your head, a slight ache in your chest.

Ruben turned to look at you, furrowed brows. "Was that all?"

"Whatta hell is that?"

Ruben was wearing a type of undergarment. A piece of fabric that surley resembled a..."

"It's a bullet proof west."

"What for?" You frowned.

"Taking bullets."

He grabbed his t-shirt from the bed, buttoning it over his vest. It was barley visible underneath.

"I know your not wearing that for my sake." You scolded. "Don't expect anybody to shoot me up, especially not Mr Dickonataor 3000."

Somthing flickered across Ruben's face, another tinted expression, this time with a hint of a smile. He sealed the last button's to his shirt and stepped up to where you stood. "Always expected the unexpected Y/N."

His warm sent is what overwhelmed you,  but also the the sound of his voice when he whispered your name.

"I'll tell Taylor to bring the car around."

You nodded. "Okay."

It was obvious that when Ruben caught wind of your desire for a carefree shopping day with friends, alarm bells rang in his head. Ensuring your safety was his utmost priority, and the thought of you venturing into public without his watchful eye deeply unsettled him.

"Oh my god, did you hear about Tanya?" Elvis gasped. "She obviously OD'd last month but the press has us thinking she caught an illness."

Keke snorted. "I bet her management is paying TMZ to keep quiet."

"What do you think Y/N?"

Shopping with Elvis and Keke was fun, with them life seemed so easy and scandalous. They didn't make you feel like a hard working international popstars, but one of the girls, which you never got to feel like being homeschooled as young.

"I hope she's okay." You said. Tanya was a singer just like you. A bit older but with so much experience of being in the industry. She helped launch your career by introducing you to some very influential producers and to that you were forever greatful.

"Speaking of okay," Elvis said, looking back at the shadow that was Ruben, walking slowly behind the three of you. "How is this your life now?"

"Please don't remind me." You sighed. "My sister is just paranoid about the death threat I got last month,  you know the one where the man sent me a bloody knife with the DNA of a racoon."

"Yes, hahaha. That was hilarious!" Keke laughed. "How did he even get your address?"

"Welp, my sister didn't think it was funny and now I have my own personal bodyguard."

"He is fine as hell, no? Do you think he'll guard my body?"

"Stop it." You hit Elvis in the arm.

It wasn't annoying having Ruben around, it made you feel safe. However, having him around 24/7....

His unusual presence didn't go unnoticed. There were fans who gathered around, snapping pictures and screaming in excitement. Yet, instead of basking in the attention, you found yourself growing increasingly frustrated with each passing moment. With Ruben, determined to maintain his hyper-vigilance by directing your every move, skillfully weaving through the crowd and dismissing any potential danger like a hawk. His overprotectiveness grew more pronounced, calling unwanted attention to you and your friends, creating a spectacle wherever you went. Thus it didn't feel like you were getting a day off, but another day in your crazy life as a popstars.

"Man, let's just go to my place." Elvis sighed. "I have like four bottles of wine from the event my company had yesterday."

"Y/N, you coming?"

Watching your friends drift further away, you couldn't help but be overcome by a sense of longing for the same freedom they had. You longed to immerse yourself in the energy of the city, shop till you dropped, and savor the precious moments of normalcy of going home and enjoying a bottle of wine. However, Ruben's constant presence loomed over you like a shadow, smothering your zest for life.

Feeling suffocated, you approached him, voice laced with frustration and desperation. "Ruben, I appreciate your concern for my safety, but I need some space. I need to feel like a regular person sometimes, without the constant intrusion. Can't you trust my judgment? Trust that I can take care of myself, just this once?"

Ruben's expression softened as he realized the weight of his actions, that they might have taken a tool on you, especially when you we're still getting used to having him around.

"We're are you headed?" He asked, expression motionless.

"Just to my friends house, we're having dinner. I'll have Taylor pick me up after."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Okay, really?"

"Yes it's fine, just..."

Ruben stumbled backwards as you ambushed him with a hug. "I'll see you later." You smiled, leaving him visibly stunned by your actions.

If you knew Elvis you knew that a quiet night with the girls always turned into a full blown party. By the time the three of you had down the four bottles of wine, Elvis had called half the people on his contact list. E - list celebrities that were desperate to be seen in a picture with you.

"I loved your last album, so many great songs were on it."

"Thank you, which one was your favorite?"

"Oh, you know..."

"I do...?"

"Yeah, you know....perhaps that one featuring that rapper?"

"You mean my song Dirty Laundry ft. Lover Boi?"

"Yeah, that's the one!"

"Gee thanks." You said and rose to go to the bathroom.

Whoever said that their favorite song of yours was Dirty Laundry didn't really care about your music, only the hits that were featured in luxury commercials or backgrounds songs for Tik Tok trends. The songs that you actually put your heart and mind into never seemed to get the recognition they deserved.

"Y/N, you good?" Elvis asked, as you past him on your way to the bathroom.

You had a lot to drink, becoming more and more forgetful of yourself. There was flashing lights in your face, people taking pictures. Your sister wouldn't like that. She always told you that a good image is important to withstand and being publicly intoxicated was not withstanding that image.

"Let me help you with that baby."

You couldn't find the bathroom. And the fact that you were so drunk frightened you a little. You oriented your way out of Elvis apartment, taking the elevator down and stumbling onto the street. You were fumbling with your purse looking for your phone when a strange man popped up, asking if you needed his help.

"I'm okay, thank you."

"Hold up, aren't you Y/N?"

"Um...no."

"Yes you are. You're that girl in that video with Lover Boi."

"Please don't..."

"Eyo, Tito, look who it is!"

"Call your friends..." You sighed.

Soon a crowd of pedestrians had gathered around you taking pictures of you like a monument in the middle of the street.

"I'm sorry, I need to..." You fumbled with your purse, unable to locate your phone to call Taylor.

"Shit, it's TMZ!"

Soon the tiny little flashing phones turned into full blown flashing cameras and photographers, or paparazzi as you've learned to call them, shouting things at you.

"Y/N show me those legs!"

*snap*

"Having fun on your night out?"

*snap*

"How many drinks have you had to night sweetie,  you look a mess."

*snap.*

"You guys please."

You hoplessly tried to diverged the snapping  cameras from your face, hiding it behind your arm. But it was hopless, you couldn't get away. The paparazzi were circling you like a shark, snapping pictures, never having enough.

"Please I... don't feel so well."

You lost your balance, falling onto your knees. This resulted in the cameras snapping more violently and no one coming to your rescue, that is, until Ruben.

"Out of the way!"

He barge through the crowd out of nowhere, not caring about who he pushed aside. He got to you and brought you up on your feet. You were walking in the air, the way that he carried you through the crowd, with one hand around your waist, pinning you to his side.

"You're okay, I got you."

You got shuffled into a car, his car, tires  swirling on the side walk as he drove away.

Although you  were drowsy, you noticed how he kept turning his head to the backseat, checking on you.

"Where almost home, I'll get you home." He said, sounding genuinely concerned.

It was all a blurr from then, how you got to your apartment, how you even got into bed that night? All you recall was Ruben's strong arms around your waist, and him, repeating the words "I got you."

[mikrokcsmos]

GIRL YOU NEED TO DO SOMETHING WITH JUNGKOOK AND HIS VLIVE 👀

FLUFF AS FLUFFY AS HIS HAIR PLEASE

OH AND BAM

- 😮‍💨

ASK AND U SHALL RECEIVE (sometimes)

Hehe enjoy <3

TEASE (M)

gif credits to the wonderful @jung-koook (cause I couldn’t find it in the gifs search function lol)

synopsis; in which Jungkook can’t keep himself from flirting — both with ARMY and you.

pairing; idol!jungkook x girlfriend!reader ft. baby bam

genre; fluff, humor, smut, vlive au

rating; 18+ MINORS DNI

warnings; foul language, Jungkook being a highkey playboy while drinking beer, light smut in the form of touching (f. receiving) but nothing too explicit (that'll be in part two ;)), itty bitty exhibitionsim (or is it voyeurism? idk but one of those) heh, note this doesn't follow the entire live, just snippets.

w/c; 1,248

a/n; I’m not okay. 🙃

“Jungkook, if you don’t stop, you’re single handedly going to be the death of ARMY.”

Bam has his head resting over your outstretched legs as he sits on the floor next to the couch beside you, one hand of yours continuously stroking his head as you watch Jungkook flirt shamelessly with everyone on his vlive he’s currently filming – one in which the company has no idea he’s doing.

You’re positioned just off camera, yet still seated close enough next to him on the couch that you can easily kick his butt with your foot if needed.

“Watch the jewels!” He scolds lightly at you, rubbing his butt you just kicked. You snicker, until he reaches behind him to grab your foot and tickle it, making you squeal and squirm, kicking your foot at him that ARMY can see on camera.

“ARMY just said to leave me alone, y/n.”

“Tell him to stop tickling me then!” You say loud enough that they can hear you in the background.

“Okay, okay! I’ll stop.” He raises his hands in front of him to show he’s not lying. Another question rises. He answers.

“Did I get scolded by the company yet?” He waves his hand in the air passively. “Nah, I’ve had my years in the career.”

You shake your head at that, sometimes he can be so reckless. But you can’t be mad at him when it’s been so long since he’s personally interacted with fans. You could tell he was becoming more sullen as the days progressed. When he came up with the idea, part of you wanted to say no, though when it came down to it, you couldn’t. Not when he’s looked the happiest he’s been in a long time.

“They may have not, but the members did!” You say, nudging him with your big toe in his muscled, black sweats wearing thigh. He swats you away, still focused on the screen in front of him, but smirks at what you said.

“Y/N is right, they told me not to do another live while drinking, but here I am! Again.” His hand curls around the large mug handle that houses his beer.

“I’m a man who doesn’t give up!” He bows, like the true showman he is in front of the camera, then clinks the glass with the screen. “Hello, I’m Jungkook!”

He places the cold mug to his lips, a sly grin beginning to form that has you worried. His free hand that’s off screen begins to massage the foot he just ignored a few moments ago, you raise your brow at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“Do you want to get married?”

Your ears perk up at that, heart rate accelerating at the newfound topic. One that has yet to be discussed within the four years of you two dating. As if sensing your anxiety, Bam jumps up onto the couch to curl in between you and the couch.

Jungkook’s eyes soften as he gazes at you both, head turned away from the screen for a moment to watch how well you and Bam get along. It’s not till your eyes lock onto his, that he puckers his lips at you both. You blow him a kiss with your hand that’s not stroking Bam. He grins, focusing back onto the screen, ultimately dodging the question. Your heart rate returns back to normal when the moment passes.

“Don’t ignore us? That’s cute. So cute, it’s right up my alley.” He runs his fingers through his hair, lopsided grin on display. Unbeknownst to you, he pans the camera onto your oblivious figure, attention still plastered to your phone, but it's when Bam's ears perk that has your eyes flickering up in wonder.

"Just look at my cutie right here, isn't Bam so precious?" It takes all of five seconds for Bam to maneuver his way on the couch over to Jungkook who scoops him up in front of the camera for everyone to see. With the camera still panned onto you, you point at the dog dad and his son with a pout.

"See what I have to deal with? Bam is the one that gets all the love in this relationship, not me. I should just leave--," You sigh heavily, feigning being upset and pushing yourself up off the couch. Jungkook's oversize shirt perfectly ends at your knees due to your short stature, so you know no flashing will take place.

Jungkook attempts to grab the edge of hisyour shirt, and as you twirl away from him and out of view, he's the one pouting now.

"Baby, you know I love you, right?" He calls out to your retreating form as you make your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. Bam continues to lick his face all the while, nearly shoving his tongue down Jungkook's throat when he keeps trying to talk through Bam's love assault.

Two minutes then pass of complete silence.

That should've been your first warning.

"If I was your boyfriend, never let you go~"

Your body stiffens, arm outstretched halfway to pick up a glass off the drying rack, fingertips grazing the glass. Jungkook continues singing Justin Bieber.

"Keep you on my arm, girl~."

The singing gets closer, until you feel the warmth of his body as he slides up next to you using the smooth flooring to his advantage in his sock clad feet, one microphone in hand. An arm snakes it's way around your waist to pull you snug into his side, him nuzzling your neck for a moment before he finishes his rendition of the song.

Out of your peripheral, you see the laptop now faces the kitchen, upper half of your bodies in plain sight and the rest covered by the kitchen island planted in the middle of the kitchen. Bam has seemed to make himself busy by curling up in the warm spot on the couch that Jungkook was taking up previously.

He sways your bodies, a song you most definitely didn't expect to play reaching your ears, along with Jungkook's hot breath that's outlining the shell of your ear. You nearly stop breathing when he gets to the chorus, tattooed hand sneaking it's way down your side, bunching the edge of your shirt in it's scathing wake.

"Mommy don't know daddy's getting hot~"

His front now presses firmly against your back, entire body leaning against yours that allows you to feel every taught curve and crevice of his body that's hidden beneath his baggy clothing, including his already semi hard-on that presses into your lower back. His hand glides itself underneath your shirt to rub small circles on your stomach. Your breath does stop then.

"Jeon Jungkook." You warn him, quietly. He ignores you.

"At the body shop~"

Lower, dangerously lower.

"Doing something unholy~"

You have to bite your lip in order to prevent the whimper that wants to escape when two fingers press firmly against your clothed core. The devilish grin that appears on his face when you tilt your head back against his chest with your mouth slightly open to look at him with a look of need just makes him press harder, and you nearly keel onto the floor if it wasn't for his body weight alone keeping you pressed immobile against the cool marble countertop, the edge digging into your abdomen harshly.

This motherfucker knew what he was doing to you, and he didn't care.

What a tease.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Ohh, S. Take a look at this pretty little boy.

https://pin.it/5fl23oJlq

Look at that smile. That pretty boy just wants to be good, don’t he? People think he’s so strong, such a big manly man. But he’s just a needy little thing. Just needs a strong warm hand to hold him down and fuck him the way he wants. He just wants to go all floaty and stupid, just let Daddy do the work for him.

Y’know, he’d try to speak. Try to tell Daddy how good it feels. But he’d just lose it once his sweet spot keeps gettin’ hammered. Baby boy would just start babblin’, beggin’ Daddy to keep goin’, not stop, “oh, Daddy, feels so good!”

Yeah, and if he could, he’d be purrin’. Sweet boy makin’ sweet sounds, lovin’ the way his Daddy fills him up. Maybe he don’t like feminization as much as Stevie, but if he really wants to surprise Daddy, he’ll slide on some cute little panties. Likes how they make him feel soft and pretty, though he’s always such a pretty boy.

Lord Above, I’ve got a problem.

-Cowboy Anon

[Link] a video of Chris Evans from one of The Grey Man Q&A theater sessions (you know the one... he's wearing that TIGHT fucking yellow/black flannel and his hair is so good)

You're damn fucking right that he's needy. There's no other reason he'd be dressing like that during The Grey Man press tour. He's needy. He was fucking wanting during that tour 😮‍💨😫 all the tight shirts, the responses to interviewers, the fucking strut he has a lot of that most of the time, shhh, I know, it was just unbearable during that particular press tour

I can't imagine all the filthy sounds that he would be making, groans and moans, of course, but also those high, breathy, panting whines, too. Under his breath, trying not to make them but unable to stop. I can't imagine it because if I do... I'm die.

Thank you for your thoughts and for the excuse to drool over this man, in that era, again 🤤

[urdadsnewgiirlfriend]

the tension, the chemistry, the passion, the desire in this chapter 😵‍💫

“Since when does Steve know how to cook, let alone grill?”

steve and his cooking skills

“Really? He had me fooled shoving his tongue down some pretty blonde’s throat at Rick’s the other night.”  “That’s - come on, you know that's not fair. He didn’t even know -” ”Why stop at just the four of us, let’s invite Vickie, make it a real party.” The name of your best friend’s ex leaves your mouth before you can stop it, instant regret making a heavy home in your chest that feels like it might cave in when her mood shifts with glassy eyes and it’s completely your fault.

pure evil 💀💀💀

He somehow looks even better than the last time you saw him, a bad habit you’re quickly learning that he has. The honey colored tips of his chestnut hair curl at the ends, sticking out of the sides of his backwards baseball hat. A well worn black cotton shirt with the sleeves cut out has the arms that you’d dreamt about on full display. The summer sun somehow dotting even more freckles across his shoulder blades that flex everytime he spins his car keys around his finger. The dark cherry red basketball shorts he wears hit the bottoms of his hairy thighs, the red mesh even more vibrant against his tan skin, just like the white leather of the Nike Cortez’s that cover his feet. 

why is he so HOT

”I know baby, I know,” he coos in a soothing voice, and in your panic you almost don’t catch the old nickname that slips off his tongue with ease. Long fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to him, “Let me see, stay still.”

NOT THE I KNOW BABY I KNOW

Steve takes the seat across from you when he’s finished cooking, manspreading with his paper plate in his lap. You fight the urge to look at the tan line of his inner thighs that are revealed by his loose fitting shorts, laughing a little too loud at Eddie’s jokes, desperate to keep your struggle hidden. Even going as far as acting interested when Robin starts talking about her reasons why she likes to buy certain things from the three different grocery stores in town. 

SLUT

I desperately need to know what his thighs taste like. I need to kiss bite lick and sucK

“I don’t think you ever faked anything with me.” He looks down his nose at you, smelling like summer nights and everything you’ve tried to forget. ”You think or you know?” Cocking a brow with a shit eating grin that tells him you aren’t going to fold easy, the backs of your thighs hit the edge of his desk.  He sucks at his teeth, rolling his shoulders with the kind of laugh that makes the dull ache between your legs turn into a throb. “I know. Trust me.” He smirks, gaze lingering where the soft dough of your thighs meet before finding your eyes again, “Guess what else I know?” “I know I can make you cum harder with my tongue than some Wall Street asshole, who doesn’t even know what to do under the hood of that fancy car he spent so much money on.” His grip on the desk tightens at the thought, wood groaning under the stress of it and it has your thighs spreading for him on their own. “Steve -”

OH MY GOD BE STILL MY BEATING VAGINA 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 I WANT HIM SO BAD IM GONNA CRY 😭

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter two -

I might kill my ex, not the best idea

Eddie warned Robin that a game of never have I ever was a bad idea, and you should know better than to go snooping where you don’t belong.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking (hey it’s a summer time barbecue in the midwest), you thought there was a lot tension the last chapter? baby, you haven’t seen nothing yet. jealousy, spicy things are revealed about all of them during a drinking game.

wc: 9.5k

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

It’s been one week.

One entire week without even so much of a glimpse of that permanently messy head of hair, and god, you hated how much it bothered you. Ears perking up every time you’d catch the cadence of his voice through the receiver of Robin’s cordless phone the few times he called her to check in. Like an unwanted guest who wasn’t taking the hint, his broad shoulders and full pink lips that somehow always look like they need to be kissed haunt your unsuspecting dreams at night. 

You hate it, you hate him, and you try not to spiral about why it feels like the opposite.

“We’re going over to Steve’s tonight,” Robin practically hums around a mouthful of fruit loops, completely unaware of you already stewing about the boy whose name just rolled off her tongue this early in the morning. 

“What?” You snap, tearing your eyes from the slow pour of the coffee maker in front of you, grouchy and wound up from a dream about his big hands pulling your legs apart so perfect white teeth could nip at the inside of your thighs.

“Steve, you know that guy you told me you’d try and be nice to. The one who’s fixing your car?” Sarcasm drips from her tone as she scoops up another bite, “We’re going to his house.”

Of course.

“That’s cool with me.” You muster up enough effort to twist your lips up into a smile that feels more like a grimace. The smashed rainbow Robin reveals in her mouth when she laughs tells you it is.

“Do me a favor, and never go into acting.” Swallowing loudly, she drops her spoon back into her bowl with a clank. “I do appreciate you trying to pretend like you’re okay with it, though, and in all seriousness, we haven’t gone this long without seeing each other in like, forever. He says you're keeping me hostage.”

“I’m keeping you hostage?!” You scoff with a roll of your eyes, turning your back to finally pour yourself the cup of coffee you’ve waited so patiently for. “He’s the best friend stealer.”

“I’m not going to lie, I think I like you two fighting over me,” she laughs, looking a little too smug for your liking as she brings her empty bowl to the sink, Garfield slippers scuffling across the tile, too lazy to pick up her feet from the floor.

“Yeah, 'cause you’re sick.” A real smile curls up into your cup, inhaling the rich scent into your nose. “What are your plans to torture me with his presence this time?” 

Robin narrows her stare at you in a silent warning, pulling herself up to sit on the counter, orange cat covered feet dangling freely as you meet her gaze with softened eyes in a silent apology.

“Eddie’s off tonight, so we’re having a little reunion barbecue, and Steve’s gonna grill.”

Choking on your coffee, you sputter your sip back into your mug, turning her freckled face sour.

“Since when does Steve know how to cook, let alone grill?”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you know you’re skating on thin ice, but all the built up tension that tightens your muscles, and buzzes incessantly at your fingertips makes everything feel impossible to control.

“He’s not seventeen anymore - “

“Really? He had me fooled shoving his tongue down some pretty blonde’s throat at Rick’s the other night.” 

“That’s - come on, you know that's not fair. He didn’t even know -”

”Why stop at just the four of us, let’s invite Vickie, make it a real party.”

The name of your best friend’s ex leaves your mouth before you can stop it, instant regret making a heavy home in your chest that feels like it might cave in when her mood shifts with glassy eyes and it’s completely your fault.

“I take back what I said, I need you to start acting again.”

Jumping off the counter, you set your mug down so you can grab her arm before she can take those few steps out of the kitchen. 

“Hey! Look, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” 

She doesn’t put up much of a fight, even though you deserve it, the blue in her eyes turn to ice when she looks at you.

“I’m sorry.”

She holds your stare until she can tell you actually mean it, melting glaciers with a heavy sigh. 

“It’s fine, I get it.” 

Her words come out soft, just like the lines that smooth on her face.

“I know this is weird and like totally against friend code or whatever, but I think that just goes to show how much he must mean to me or even a testament to how much he’s changed if I’m even asking you to just try and do this. Just try, that’s all.”

“No, you’re right,” you fluster, doing your best to reassure her in a shaky voice, “I just slept badly and had a really weird dream. It just threw me off a little. I’m being so awful and I’m sorry.” 

Flashes of the way his hands gripped your hips and the dirty things he whispered in your ear has your palms start to sweat, making you loosen your grip on her arm before she can notice. 

Robin searches your face for the reassurance that she needs before a small smile finally tugs at the corners of her lips.“This is why you’re my best friend.” She pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“Only if you tell him that.” 

Snaking your arms around her waist, you let out a shaky laugh, silently preparing to see the man who hasn’t left the crevices of your mind since you stepped foot back in Hawkins.

———

It feels like you’re back in high school the way you can’t stop looking at yourself in the mirror, the nerves still feel the same.

Your gaze wanders up and down your reflection, turning from side to side, overly critical eyes take in your curves that are on display a little more than normal and you wonder if Robin will notice. Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, better yet you wonder if Robin will notice and have something to say about it. 

“You’re certainly spending a lot of time on an outfit.” Your best friend whistles low as she leans against the open bedroom door confirming your fears with a cross of her arms.

“Just trying to remember what I brought is all.” You don’t engage with the amusement that hides in her tone, smoothing down the short black skirt that flares over the tops of your thighs, before adjusting the straps on your matching tank top.

“Riiiight,” she snorts, earning the kind of glare that has her raising her hands in defense before a shit-eating grin cracks wide across her face. “I’m going to need you to hurry up, though. Do I need to remind you that we’re walking?”

“I’m done!” You huff, sock covered feet digging into her cream carpet as you make your way toward her, “I just need to put on my shoes.”

“You’ve got twenty secon-” she agonizes before three hard knocks on her front door cut her off. Her cheshire smile falters as she turns confused.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get to finish that sentence,” you warn in a harsh whisper, grabbing your Converse that had been haphazardly kicked off earlier in the corner. 

Robin puts a ringed finger to her lips, like the possibility of a kidnapper being on the other side is extremely probable, and it’s her turn to glare when you roll your eyes at her dramatics. Following her out to the living room, you plop down on the couch, watching her slowly creep to the front door. Both her hands find the blue painted wood pushing up on the toes of her Reeboks to look out the peephole.

“Steve?!” 

The name makes your stomach flip, a shaky breath pushing its way through watermelon flavored lips because you thought you had more time than this. Keeping a poker face, you take your time tying your laces as she swings the door open. Head down, your eyes keep their focus on how the dirty white strings move between your fingers. 

You’re not ready to look at him. Not yet.

“After taking you to school at 7am every day after I graduated, you really thought I was going to let you walk?” The smile in his voice is evident, a fond memory you’re not a part of but you can still feel the warmth inside it by the way he speaks. 

“Thank god,” she starts, the insinuation of the words that are going to follow making your eyes snap up, narrowed and shooting daggers at your best friend, catching Steve’s attention in the process. 

“We were going to be late.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, his gaze claiming yours and holding it against your will, the beginnings of a smirk playing on his full lips and suddenly it’s so much warmer in her living room than it was two seconds ago. “Why’s that?”

He somehow looks even better than the last time you saw him, a bad habit you’re quickly learning that he has. The honey colored tips of his chestnut hair curl at the ends, sticking out of the sides of his backwards baseball hat. A well worn black cotton shirt with the sleeves cut out has the arms that you’d dreamt about on full display. The summer sun somehow dotting even more freckles across his shoulder blades that flex everytime he spins his car keys around his finger. The dark cherry red basketball shorts he wears hit the bottoms of his hairy thighs, the red mesh even more vibrant against his tan skin, just like the white leather of the Nike Cortez’s that cover his feet. 

“She’s just being dramatic,” you grumble, finally tearing your eyes from the dark moss that covers the chocolate inside his, doing your best to ignore the heat of them wandering the bare skin of your legs as you finish tying your shoes.

“You changed your outfit like sixty times!” 

This is the moment that you decide you’re going to kill Robin in her sleep tonight.

“Well, I’m ready so you both can stop being annoying now.” Standing, you tug down the bottom of your skirt that suddenly feels even shorter with his full attention on you like this.

“Wait, why am I annoying? I just got here.” Steve argues when your words finally sink in, snapping him out of his daze, catching the keys in his palm. 

“You’re always annoying, Harrington,” you sigh, hoping your deflections are working, but the small smile that never leaves his lips tells you it’s not.

“Shotgun!” Robin calls out like it’s something you would have argued over. Your shoulder brushes with his as you push your way out the door, sending sparks to the tips of your fingers and making your hair stand on end. Steve and the summer heat warm your skin. 

“It’s all yours,” you concede with ease, ignoring the butterfly wings that wreak havoc in your rib cage when the spice of his cologne makes its way into your nose.

It was going to be a night.

Steve keeps the windows rolled down, the muggy air making your bare thighs stick together and to the hot leather of his backseat. It drowns out the music as he speeds down the back roads, making the conversation between him and Robin upfront almost inaudible.

You don’t worry about what they might be saying, not even when they both start gesturing wildly with their hands. Taking advantage of the time left alone, you put all of your focus into preparing yourself for the next few hours, doing your best to push the lingering thoughts of your dream deep down to a place that no one can find. A task that proves to be much harder while avoiding his gaze that dares you to meet it in the rear view mirror the entire way. 

The memories you have of the back of his car don’t help either.

Pulling into Forest Hills trailer park, you’re surprised at the facelift they finally gave it after all these years. Lush green grass grows where the yellow and brown shrub used to be, and a wooden gazebo that looks like it’s missing a finishing coat stands tall, replacing the picnic table where you and the metal head used to smoke. Even the gravel that paves the road looks new and gray, not the dirt brown mud that it used to be. 

It’s still a struggle to wrap your head around the fact that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, the former king of Hawkin’s and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson not only work together, but live together too. You would have laughed in anyone’s face if they told you this five years ago. 

The BMW’s tires crunch loudly against the rocks as Steve pulls into the driveway of a hunter green trailer. It sits in the back of the park, almost touching the edge of the woods behind it. A faded white line running along the length that matches the metal railing of their front entrance and the overhang that covers it. The paint peels from parts of the metal in the heat, revealing spots of the gray hidden underneath. A worn in deep maroon couch sits on the porch just like the dirty brown one at Wayne’s trailer, and you already know Eddie spends his mornings there. You internally groan when you catch yourself wondering if Steve does too.

“Home sweet home,” he hums, cutting the engine off and pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You dare to meet his eyes for the first time since you left the apartment when Robin jumps out of the front seat, and you immediately regret it. He smiles wide, finally catching your attention, those perfect white teeth baring themselves at you as he pulls off his hat to run a hand through his sweaty bed head. The long strand he’s always at battle with falls through the opening in the back when he puts it on again, because, of course it does.

“Good to see you finally slumming it with the rest of us, King Steve,” you snort, pulling on the handle to let yourself out, ending any chance of conversation.

If it wasn’t for your Eddie barreling out of the front door to greet you and Robin with a big dimpled grin and a freshly rolled joint, you would’ve thought a little harder about the way Steve winced at the nickname.

The Munson/Harrington Bachelor pad anomaly isn’t exactly what you expected it to be, but even then you weren’t entirely sure what that was. It’s cozy just like how Wayne’s used to be but where there’s hand me downs that have been through the short line of Munson men’s hands, there’s an equal amount of obviously perfectly well kept new. Like the shiny big TV in the center of their living room, and the well-loved lazy boy in front of it, that still had cigarette burns from its previous owner, next to the rich tan leather couch right by it.

It smells like it has just been cleaned, a sanitizing lilac still lingering in the air, trying its best to cover the smell of all grease stained clothing in their hampers and the smoke from joints like the one Eddie’s about to put out in an ashtray full of ones just like it.

He sits at the head of the table with a lopsided grin that pushes up the apples of his cheeks and reveals the deep dimples in the center of them. Droopy lids frame his bloodshot eyes that meet your own. Orange and pinks paint the darkening sky through the sliding glass door behind him. 

“I still can’t believe you’re actually here,” Eddie chuckles with a fond glint in big brown eyes leaning back in his chair that squeaks under the redistribution of his weight.

“Back by popular demand,” you smirk, pointing at Robin, who sits just on the other side of the table, glassy eyed with an unwavering smile. 

You try to ignore how the empty chair next to her bothers you, or they way your eyes keep looking toward the kitchen through the small opening of their little island, giving you the perfect view of Steve prepping dinner. His thick eyebrows are furrowed as he digs through spice racks and drawers, front teeth digging into the plushness of his bottom lip deep in thought.

“I think this calls for a fire,” Eddie announces loudly, bringing you back to the conversation with a slap of his palms on the wood of the table and the kind of smirk that tells you that you’ve been caught.

“We told Janice next door weekends only after last time,” Steve’s voice startles you, making his presence known, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. 

“It’s Thursday. Practically the weekend. Besides it’s a special occasion, look who’s here Stevie boy.” Something in Eddie’s tone makes Steve’s eyes narrow in a silent threat that only makes the metal heads' lips twist up into something more devilish. 

“You have to put it out before bed then, I’m not dealing with it like last time.” Steve accepts defeat quicker than anticipated, “And if she calls or comes over to complain at all, that's all on you too.”

”Deal,” Eddie agrees with five fingers across his heart, the silver of his rings catching in the low light of their trailer.“I think she’s got a crush on me anyway.”

“She’s married,” Steve dead pans with a deep sigh, taking his hat off to run another hand through his hair and you hate the way it has your thighs meeting under the table. “Who’s helping me with dinner then?”

He knows better than to look at you, so his gaze falls onto his roommate and best friend.

”Don’t look at me!” Robin argues, raising her right hand to show off the faded scar on her palm. “Last time I tried to help, I had to get stitches, remember?”

”The fire’s a full time job I’m afraid,” Eddie shrugs, standing up. Not missing a beat, they both look at each other like they're in on some secret that you and Steve aren’t apart of before their eyes land on you.

”You know I’m not a good cook,” you whine, refusing to meet the heat of Steve’s stare that burns against the side of your face.

”I’m sure Steve’s more than willing to help teach you, princess.” Eddie grins, and it makes you want to slap the dimples clean off his face.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, I can do it by myself,” Steve interjects with a sigh before you have a chance to respond with something that he knows will just egg the metal head on and get his ego even more bruised.

He’s not expecting the way your eyes snap to his, or the way they narrow with something fiery deep inside them.

”We’re grown adults, Steve. I think I can handle helping you cut some vegetables or whatever it is you need me to do.” Standing up with a shove of your chair, he doesn’t even attempt to argue about how that’s the exact opposite of what you just said.

”There we go! Problem solved.” Eddie’s grin is mischievous, and so is the wink he throws at his roommate before opening the sliding glass door, ushering Robin out and leaving you both alone.

The tension inside the kitchen hangs thicker in the air than the humidity outside weighing down your shoulders, making the words stick in the back of your throat as you try to navigate the close proximity to Steve. Neither one of you is sure of what to say first, and the sound of Eddie and Robin laughing outside filling the silence between you somehow makes it worse. 

The weed twists the knots in your stomach tighter, and the cedar that always seems to linger whenever he’s around turns suffocating without an escape. You lean against the sink across from him while he digs through the icebox in the fridge. Shoulder blades moving with the motions of his wrist, plastic crinkling loudly every time he moves a bag out of the way. Muttering to himself, you watch goosebumps rise on his tan skin from the cool air, muscles twitching from the shock.

This was a mistake. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you tear your eyes away in hopes it will stop the dull ache between your legs from getting worse when you’re brought back to the way those same arms caged you in while his hips pushed you deeper into the mattress in your dreams last night. Looking out the small window at the beginning flames of the bonfire, a shaky breath pushes past your glossed lips, and you wipe your palms on your skirt before turning around to wash your hands.

”You don’t have to help, you know?” His voice comes out just loud enough for you to hear over the running water, the small smacking sound of the fridge closing behind it, “If you’re that uncomfortable, I can do it.”

Cutting the water, you shake your hands in the sink before tearing off a paper towel from the roll next to you. Working up enough courage to finally turn around to look at him, you finish drying your hands with a softer expression.

”No, I can help.” 

He holds your stare, silently giving you another out while his fingers make quick work of unwrapping a head of lettuce, an onion, and a few peppers from their plastic confines. No matter how much you want to look away, you don’t, standing firm in your choice despite everything inside of you screaming to run away, and it’s enough for him to nod his head. The slight twitch of his lips while he rolls the bags in his hands doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I just need you to cut the onion into thin slices for the burgers, and same with the jalapeños.” He instructs, turning his back to you to throw away the wrappings. 

The sudden movement has the deep cut sleeves of his shirt fluttering open, giving you a glimpse of the thick patch of hair on his chest, and how it tapers off and down past his belly button. Your thighs find each other again, and you look up to the ceiling silently, trying to regain all the strength you thought you’d just found. 

“And the lettuce - uhh, are you okay?” Steve’s confusion makes all the blood in your body rush to the apples of your cheeks as you try to hide your internal struggle with a smile.

“Yeah, we’re good. Never been better. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you ramble, brushing past him to the station he’s set up for you.

“…Right,” he starts with a pause before choosing to leave it alone, “I just need you to kind of rip the lettuce up, you can cut it if you want but I think bigger pieces would be better.”

You aren’t expecting his voice to come from right behind you, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against the back of your neck. Your own goosebumps rise, dotting across exposed skin and you hope he doesn’t notice but the way he lingers in your space for a little longer despite the nod of your head makes you think otherwise. The spice of his cologne grows faint along with his footsteps against the tile floor, finding a home on the other side of the kitchen, busying himself with what he had started before.

Eddie turns on the radio, easing some of the tension from your muscles, and relaxing your shoulders as you get a good grip on the handle of the knife.

You could do this, easy. 

You really start to believe it too when you cut all the jalapeños, even humming along to an old Judas Priest song that you and Eddie used to blast in his van after school. Peeling the onion, you pretend that you don’t see the reflection of Steve staring at you from the glass of the microwave as you sway your hips and bop your head to the beat.

“So, New York huh?” He finally breaks, and your eyes flutter to the reflection to see him putting away all the spices he’d pulled out while you were smoking. “You likin’ it?”

Your movements freeze for a second, and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth with all the things you’ve dreamed of saying to him. Years of coming up with all the ways you’d tell him how much better you were without him. A recurring fantasy of a ten year reunion where you’d show up with your famous screenwriter husband you’d met on the Subway, turning your nose at him and whatever Hawkin’s girl he’d managed to knock up. But instead, the universe has you here five years too early, and Steve isn’t the same guy you’d left even if you don’t quite trust it yet.

Picking up the knife again, you roll your shoulders with a quiet breath before cutting into the onion once more as you search for the words to answer.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s big and it can be a little scary sometimes but I can be myself there,” it comes out a little quieter than intended but you still twist your hips to meet his gaze from across the kitchen where he stands with crossed arms giving you his full attention. “No one really cares what you do.”

“Who are you trying to be out there?” He asks like he has no idea what small talk is, the greens in his eyes shimmering against the last bit of sunlight that shines on his face.

“Someone stronger than who I was in high school,” you whisper, turning back around to focus on the task at hand and not your ex trying to dig into the depths of your soul while you cut onions.

“You were always the strongest person I knew,” he counters, and you can practically hear the shrug that you know follows his words.

”You certainly liked to test it.” 

It comes out before you can bite your tongue, your knife slicing right into the center of the onion and hitting the cutting board roughly, adding dramatic effect.

”Ouch,” he hums with a small laugh, silverware clanking against the metal of the sink behind you as he finishes cleaning up his mess, “I guess I deserved that one.”

“Steve.” You stop cutting, dropping the knife to look at him, unintentionally swiping your eye in the process, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. I promised Rob- oh fuck!”

The burning in your right eye becomes unbearable, the tears spilling freely down your cheek blurring your vision with a harsh sting.

”Oh, oh no. Did you touch your eye?!” Steve sounds panicked, sneakers scuffling against the tile as he hurries to grab a washcloth from the drawer. 

“It was an accident!” You whine, closing your eyes as tight as you can, willing the burning tears to stop, the sound of water running from the sink filling your ears, “God it hurts so bad, Steve.”

”I know baby, I know,” he coos in a soothing voice, and in your panic you almost don’t catch the old nickname that slips off his tongue with ease. Long fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to him, “Let me see, stay still.”

The coolness of the rag provides instant relief when he presses it gently to your eye. Taking a deep breath, you feel the warmth of his palm rub up and down your arm soothing your irritated nerves more. The sting doesn’t fully go away, but it subsides enough for the tears to slow down as he applies a little more pressure before removing it to wet it again. Blinking past the burning, you finally realize just how close you are to him now. 

Chests practically touching, you can see the beginnings of stubble lining his jaw despite being able to tell that he shaved today. The vampire bites on his neck that used to be your favorite to kiss taunt you for what feels like the millionth time this week. With cedar and musk filling your lungs, it feels impossible to breathe.

He cuts off the water, turning towards you again, and you aren’t prepared for the depth in his eyes meeting yours from this distance. They’re soft when they look at you, the chestnut inside them warming gold as you stare back at him a little dazed. Calloused fingertips stop their path up your arm to gently grab your chin, tilting your face up to his so he can get a better look at the damage. He’s sweet with the way moves your head around, the pad of his thumb smoothing the skin under your irritated eye.

”I think you’ll be okay, I don’t see any seeds or anything trapped inside,” he whispers, thumb never stopping its movements while his gaze flicks down to your lips that pout on their own, something electric charging in the air.

The sliding glass door opens behind him before you can answer, Robin and Eddie making their presence known in a loud burst of energy. Snatching the wet rag from his hand, you’re quick to put distance between you. Placing the cool cloth against your face, you make your way out of the kitchen before anyone can ask you anything about what happened. Muttering a “thanks Steve '' on your way to assess just how ruined your makeup is in the bathroom. 

Your heart pounds in your ears feeling the ghost of his touch everywhere, chest tightening because your body won’t stop screaming for more.

You stay in the bathroom long enough for the burning to subside, mumbling words that resemble some kind of pep talk while scrubbing your hands. Fingers that still shake with nerves fix your smudged mascara, listening for the moment their voices go quiet behind the sliding glass door before you decide to finally venture out. The sound of Steve’s laugh catches in your ears, as you make your way through the empty trailer, the corners of your lips curling on their own as you tug on the handle that separates you from them. The humidity is quick to turn your skin sticky despite the sun disappearing behind the trees. 

”There she is! I heard Harrington tried to blind you,” Eddie chuckles from his place crouched in front of the fire. A half smoked cigarette dangling lazily from the side of his mouth as he ‘stokes’ the flames, the crackling wood competing with the buzz of the cicadas that surround you.

”Riddle me this, Steve, why is it that whenever someone ’helps’ you cook, they end up in the hospital or worse, almost BLIND!” 

From her spot sitting on one of the many faded red plastic lawn chairs they have circled around the pit, Robin doesn’t hesitate to turn it into a dog pile with dramatics that could rival an Oscar winning actress.

Steve rolls his eyes, the warm light from the smaller flame of the grill glowing underneath him, highlighting his sharp features. His gaze meets yours, ignoring his friends, and you swear even from here, you can see the green inside each eye shine. You know there’s a million questions he wants to ask but there’s only one that comes out, and it’s soft just like the way he touched you inside.

”Are you okay?”

It’s hard for you to look anywhere but his face, remembering just how pretty it was up close. Your eyes trace the straight line of his nose, and the curve of his full bottom lip before finally meeting his eyes. The small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth reminds you that you haven’t answered him yet but he doesn’t say anything. He lets Robin’s low whistle do all the talking.

”Uhh, yeah, I’m good. Crisis averted,” you mumble, snapping out of it, cheeks warming up enough to compete with the fire pit you stumble around, landing in the seat next to your best friend. “No jalapenos on mine, I think I’ve had enough for today.”

Steve laughs again, just like the one you heard on your way out and the sound burrows in your heart, making it swell, giddiness roiling deep in your gut. You ignore Robin’s obnoxious toothy grin next to you, doubling down even more when she starts to wiggle her eyebrows. The two beer cans at her feet tell you everything you need to know.

Without a cloud in an almost completely dark sky, you start to see the twinkling of the stars you’ll always miss begin to appear. They battle for your attention against the fireflies that flicker through the tall grass and into the woods. Lighter fluid stings your nose when Steve squirts more onto the burning coals, switching from hot dogs to burgers like he’s been grilling for a family of four his whole life.

A couple of beers calm your nerves that threaten to give you away, watching Steve in his element like this, the holes cut in his shirt showing off every flex of his muscles as he flips the patties. Cheese melting over the burger meat, just like your body that sinks further into the lawn chair that sticks to the backs of your thighs. He throws you a knowing look, making you clear your throat. Straightening your posture, you try to join in Robin and Eddie’s conversation like you hadn’t just been caught. Taking another long swig of the bitter semi cold liquid, you hope it’s enough to get you through dinner.

It’s not.

Steve takes the seat across from you when he’s finished cooking, manspreading with his paper plate in his lap. You fight the urge to look at the tan line of his inner thighs that are revealed by his loose fitting shorts, laughing a little too loud at Eddie’s jokes, desperate to keep your struggle hidden. Even going as far as acting interested when Robin starts talking about her reasons why she likes to buy certain things from the three different grocery stores in town. 

It’s when a dribble of ketchup lands on top of Steve's hand after a large bite that you lose your cool. Right between his thumb and index finger, he hums with cheeks full of food before those full lips of his wrap around the spilled sauce, cleaning it with a flick of his tongue.

”I’m gonna throw my plate away, is anyone else done?” You squeak, standing up abruptly, your chair nearly falling backwards in the process. 

“Jesus, easy tiger,” Eddie snorts, finishing off the last of his beer before crushing the tin can in his hand, tossing it on his empty plate, “The trash isn’t going anywhere.”

“Just trying to be a good house guest is all,” you lie, making Eddie quirk an eyebrow, the dimples in his cheeks coming out to play again.

”Uh huh.” He smirks before handing you his plate that Robin quickly piles hers on top of. “Sure.”

”That’s very sweet of you,” Steve chimes in, with a lopsided grin on his face that makes you want to punch the air and get out of here. 

“She’s pure class Harrington, get it right,” Robin comes for the save with a knowing wink that only makes the heat growing in your cheeks worse.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble quickly turning on your heel, feeling all their eyes on you as you make your way to the back door of the trailer.

”Hurry back. We're gonna play Never Have I Ever,” your best friend calls out over her shoulder making you wish you could just stay inside when the sliding glass door closes behind you.

Embers spark and pop from the fire before they disappear into the night sky, the full moon’s white glow stopping just along the dark edges of the trees that surround the backyard. The four of you sit around the pit with fresh beers in hand. The buzz of the alcohol turning Steve’s gaze heavy as he stares at you from across the flickering flames. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth you look everywhere but his direction, and hope he doesn’t see the way your thighs press under the heat of it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea Robin?” Eddie whispers, big brown eyes glancing between the both of you, and your bouncing knee.

”It’s fine, they’ll be fine. Right guys?” She waves the metal head off, nudging you with her elbow, completely unphased.

”Of course we’ll be fine, why wouldn’t we be fine?” You snap, tugging the bottom of your skirt down, all the built up tension turning into aggression. Steve smiles into his next gulp.

“Whoa, whoa. I was just asking, but you do seem a little tense.” She raises her hands in surrender, both her eyebrows disappearing behind her shaggy bangs while Eddie distracts himself by poking the fire.

“Relax, it’s just a game,” Steve sighs, settling deeper in his chair, the warm amber in the flames bouncing off the mischievous gold in his eyes that keep their hold on you. “Besides, we’re friends now, right?”

Your gaze narrows, the grip on your beer tightening enough to hear the pop of the metal.“Yep,” you manage to get out, shooting Eddie a glare when he snorts.

“If you guys say so,” he starts, ignoring your scowl while getting cut off by Robin who’s practically vibrating in her seat now.

”Let’s have fun already. I’ll start.” Robin shushes him before acting like she’s deep in thought, turning to face you with the kind of grin on her face that tells you she’s up to no good, “Never have I ever…let some Wall Street douchebag go down on me in the backseat of his Rolls Royce.”

“That’s weirdly specific- oh wait! Damn! Princess!” Eddie whoops when you take a swig with a roll of your eyes, flipping Robin the bird. 

“Gotta try everything once, right?” You shrug, holding his gaze with a smirk, not even trying to hide that you’re taking great pleasure in the way Steve’s jaw clenches at the new found information of your life outside of here. “He had a nice mouth when he wasn’t using it for talking.”

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, the mossy greens in his eyes turning dark as you lean back in your chair smugly.

“She’s a wild one, I’ll tell ya,” Robin giggles fondly, passing the baton to you with a proud smile.

Maybe it was the beer or the incessant way Steve’s presence drove you to the brink of insanity by rageful lust. Or even just the way he sat across from you with his legs spread wide like he ruled the world, whatever it was, that's what’s to blame for the question that rolls off your tongue.

“Never have I ever taken someone’s virginity.”

Robin’s jaw drops, guffawing with a harsh slap on your leg, mouthing a ‘you said you’d be nice’ but the buzz of the alcohol keeps a lopsided grin on her face. Eddie drinks, nervously watching the staring contest going on between you and Steve. Like a dog and its owner trying to establish dominance, both of you refuse to be the one who looks away first. Taking two gulps for good measure, he smacks his lips loudly when he’s done, wiping the foam off his upper lip with the back of his wrist. Raising his eyebrows at you in a silent challenge.

“This isn’t awkward at all,” Eddie grumbles, taking another sip of his beer to help the uncomfortable tension that threatens to settle over the circle.

”Who’s next? Who's next?” Robin urges with a flick on your knee, forcing you to fold and give her your attention with a blink of your eyes and it feels like the first time in hours that you finally look at someone other than Steve. 

Your teeth clench, grinding at the thought that even after all this time he’s still got this kind of hold on you, and it has you riding the thin line between wanting to give him a black eye or have him take you for a spin in his beemer for old times sake. 

“Eddie,” raising your can in his direction, he meets you in the middle with a cheers that doesn’t quite touch before slinking back in his chair with an exhausted huff.

“Hmmm, what do I want to reveal about myself?” He hums deep in thought, metal rings clinking against tin in a familiar tune as he taps his fingers around his beer can, “Never have I ever… been in a threesome, despite being titled ‘freak’ of Hawkins.”

“Really?” Robin seems genuinely shocked, making you giggle.

“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy to me too.” Eddie shrugs, with a knowing grin that doesn’t quite sit right in your gut.

That’s when you see it. Steve taking a drink.

”WHAT?!” Your best friend squeals practically jumping from her seat, clearly something that's not common knowledge being revealed.

Jealousy is an ugly monster, and it finds a home deep inside your chest tonight, turning you green with it. Your half empty beer can crunches the more your fingers dig into the tin, eyes narrowing when he just responds to Robin with a coy smirk and a shrug bringing his attention back to you.

”Gotta try everything once right?” Steve mocks, full pink lips curling up at the corners as he takes another sip.

Your heart sinks with your stomach, the muscles in your face doing the same before you have a chance to stop it. Visions of red nails and pink lips that don’t belong to you dance through your head, and the smug smirk he probably wore while his big hands gripped their hips taking turns making them moan his name. The sound of your can completely collapsing in a loud crunch gets everyone’s attention, and you ignore the softened expression on Steve’s face trying to capture your gaze again. Eddie clears his throat, throwing you a life line before opening a new can of beer with a suggestion you’ve never been more grateful for.

”Alright Steve, your turn.” 

Steve nods with a tight lipped smile taking one last glance in your direction before sitting up in his chair with an idea that makes his cheeks push up and his eyes sparkle against the light of the fire. “Alright, never have I ever pretended to not only have a driver's license but also own a car that actually belongs to my best friend so I can hook up with a girl in the backseat.”

A quiet sigh escapes your lungs, shoulders relaxing just a little when Robin groans loudly at the attack that’s clearly focused on her. Oblivious to the fact that you’re hanging on by a thread next to her, you stare fixed on the way the flames lick up into the night. 

“Look, she was a college senior, okay? I was only a sophomore and she was way cooler than me. Judge me all you want, but it worked didn’t it?” She argues, lifting her beer to the sky before taking a sip proudly. “No regrets!”

Her smile is contagious, easing some of the tension when you and Eddie giggle meeting each other's eyes from across her honey blond waves. You can feel Steve’s stare burning a hole in the side of your head, the heat of it in direct competition with the fire that thrives off the light breeze that rustles through the trees. 

“Aright, alright, never have I ever faked getting off.” She wiggles her eyebrows with a toothy grin, looking at Eddie specifically who gives her a dead stare in response, clearly something told to her in confidence. 

Biting your lip, you really weren’t going to add more fuel to the fire but when you finally meet Steve’s eyes that have been begging for your attention this whole time, you can’t help but douse the flames with the whole can of gasoline. Another flash of different shades of lipstick staining the freckles you loved to kiss so much sending another wave of rage down to your core.

”I can think of a few times.” You snort loudly, holding his gaze and pointedly stealing everyone else's attention before polishing off the last of your crumpled can.

Steve’s jaw clenches hard enough that you swear you can hear his teeth crunch together. Nostrils flaring with a gaze so dark it threatens to swallow you whole, all traces of honey and warmth gone, leaving you chilled to the bone.

”I think we’re done with this game Robin,” he grunts, standing up with a kick of his chair and for once his eyes don’t search for yours as he stomps across the yard towards the yellow light of the trailer. 

“Seriously!” Your best friend groans, slinking back in her chair with a hand running down her face, “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

”Yeah, genius! I told you, but nooo, you didn’t want to listen to me.” Eddie scoffs into his beer can, using his free hand to poke at the fire.

”Can you go, like, talk to him or something?” Robin turns to you with an almost pleading look that gets more prominent the more your face turns sour.

“Me?! I have to go talk to him? Seriously? He’s the one who stormed off,” you argue, crossing your arms.

”Yeah, well you clearly hurt his feelings.” She points at his pacing figure through the kitchen window and it takes everything inside of you not to tell her that he hurt yours first.

The two of you stare each other down, the wills of stubbornness at battle until her eyes go soft, big and glassy. 

“Please,” she begs, pulling out the big guns, and jutting out her bottom lip.

You hold her gaze for a few more seconds before surrendering with a roll of your eyes, huffing loudly when you uncross your arms to stand up, making her face light back up.

”I hate you. More than anything.”

Eddie cackles loudly at your lie, digging in his front pocket for a smushed pack of cigarettes.

“We all know you don’t mean that,” she hums with a content smile, leaning over to snatch the freshly lit tobacco from the metalhead’s mouth, waving at you as you start to follow Steve’s path up to the trailer. “Please don’t kill him!”

Closing the sliding glass door behind you, a shiver runs up your spine when the coolness of the air conditioning hits your sticky skin. The sound of running water catches in your ears from the kitchen along with the murmur of his voice under its rush.You can’t quite make out what he’s saying to himself, even when you reach the doorway. 

Hunched over the sink, his shoulder blades flex with every harsh scrub of the pan. His hat rests on the counter, and you can’t help but notice the wild way his hair sits on the top of his head from wearing it all day, sun kissed tips curling from the humidity. Clearing your throat just loud enough to alert him of your presence, you watch the way his whole body goes rigid. It only lasts for a moment before he recovers, shutting off the water with a lazy slap of his hand. Turning around he grabs the dish towel next to him to dry off, meeting your gaze with a little more color in his eyes, flecks of gold trying to shimmer in a raging storm.

Having his full attention on you, alone like this, is enough for your tongue to go numb. The back of your throat turns into sandpaper, making it impossible for words to find their way out. A big hand runs through his hair, fingers getting caught on a knot at the end that he works out with ease, a gentle sigh deflating his defensive chest just a little before he speaks.

“Hey.” 

Anger still boils under all of the attraction, along with the jealousy you aren’t willing to acknowledge.You aren’t ready. You can’t do this yet.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” you excuse yourself, turning on your heel and leaving just as quickly as you arrived.

You ignore the way he calls after you, seeking solace in the place that's become your hiding spot for the night. Fingers wrap around the handle to the familiar room, you stop in your tracks when a warm patch of light leaking out from a crack in a door that wasn’t opened before catches your attention. 

You can smell the cedar from here.

Glancing over your shoulder to see if he followed you, it changes the course of your direction when you discover that he didn’t. Taking a few steps across the hallway, you’re careful not to let the hinges creak when you push his bedroom door open a little more. Your senses quickly become overwhelmed with everything that makes Steve, Steve. You throw another cautious look down the hallway before crossing the invisible line. Closing the door like how you found it, you let your curiosity get the best of you. 

It’s cleaner than you thought it’d be now that he doesn’t live inside the Harrington’s massive house anymore. His bed is bigger, the twin sized mattress that you used to squeeze into traded in for a queen. The navy blue comforter that looks soft to the touch is laid out messy on white sheets, a digital clock with glaring red numbers that read 10:30 pm on the nightstand next to it. 

The carpet under your feet is a heather gray, and you can tell that it’s scratchy even with your shoes on. Patrick Swayze watches your every move from the Roadhouse poster hanging on his wall, the floor creaking as you make your way toward the small work desk in the corner. Your eyes linger on the impressive way all his dirty clothes manage to be in his hamper before they find the framed pictures spread over his desk. 

There’s one of him with the middle school boy you knew as Dustin Henderson perched on his back, only he looks much older than you remembered. The curls still give him away despite the braces free smile. Both of them grin hard enough for their eyes to crinkle in the corners like they had finally stopped laughing long enough for someone to snap this picture. 

You fight back the way your cheeks threaten to push up, not surprised to find one of him and Robin at what looks like Lover’s Lake, both of them striking the same pose with inflatable tubes around their waists wearing matching bucket hats and sunglasses.

The guy in these photos doesn’t seem anything like the one you remember and it’s hard for you to wrap your head around it. They look the same.

”I don’t think this is the bathroom, do you?” Steve’s voice makes you jump, heart stopping in your chest for a split second before you meet his questioning stare with a guilty face of your own. 

His arms are crossed over his chest as leans against the door frame, unintentionally pulling the collar of his shirt down giving you a glimpse of the patch of hair and the gold chain underneath. The softness in his eyes from the kitchen is gone as he stares you down, it’s replaced with something you can’t quite put your finger on but the intensity of it raking over your body has your thighs meeting for what feels like the millionth time tonight. His full pink lips twist into a sarcastic smirk as he pushes off the wood, taking the next few steps into his room.

”Did you really mean what you said out there?” He questions, dark eyes sparkling the more you squirm under the heat of them.

”Mean what? I said a lot of things out there. We all did.” Narrowing your gaze, you try to take back some semblance of control, squaring up your shoulders at him but the dark chuckle you get in response tells you it’s a futile attempt.

“I didn’t say anything about you specifically though, did I?” Steve counters, stopping just a few feet away from you, tongue poking at the side of his cheek, “No, I don’t think I did.”

He hums, uncrossing his arms to mimic your stance in a silent challenge, eyebrows raised waiting on your response.

”I didn’t say anything about you specifically either.” Jutting out your chin in defiance, it's your turn to cross your arms now. Maturity at its finest.

He doesn’t answer you, instead he holds your eyes with his own and it takes everything inside of you not to look away. Your tongue swipes against your bottom lip as he starts to take a few steps closer, broad shoulders making the room feel small when the toes of his sneakers meet yours.

“I don’t think you ever faked anything with me.” He looks down his nose at you, smelling like summer nights and everything you’ve tried to forget.

”You think or you know?” Cocking a brow with a shit eating grin that tells him you aren’t going to fold easy, the backs of your thighs hit the edge of his desk. 

He sucks at his teeth, rolling his shoulders with the kind of laugh that makes the dull ache between your legs turn into a throb.

“I know. Trust me.” He smirks, gaze lingering where the soft dough of your thighs meet before finding your eyes again, “Guess what else I know?”

It's hard for you to catch your breath when he looks at you like this and you wonder if he notices the quick heaves of your chest or the way your eyes glaze over from being this close to him.

”W-what?” Your stutter gives you away, but at least you tried to fight one last time before he went in for the kill.

The whites of his teeth show in the kind of smile that tells you he was hoping you’d ask just that. Leaning in, his palms land on his desk finding purchase on either side of your hips, caging you in. He’s close enough for the tip of his nose to brush against yours, close enough to smell the wheat from his beer on the warm breath that fans against your lips. 

“You wouldn’t still look at me the way you do, if I hadn’t made you feel good honey. And you know what else?” 

His voice goes deep as he whispers, nose nudging at your cheek before his lips hover right by your ear making you shiver, goosebumps making their second appearance of the day. Your hands find the edge of his desk, chest brushing against his in a deep breath feeling the slightest touch of his lips against the soft spot right behind it.  

“I know I can make you cum harder with my tongue than some Wall Street asshole, who doesn’t even know what to do under the hood of that fancy car he spent so much money on.” His grip on the desk tightens at the thought, wood groaning under the stress of it and it has your thighs spreading for him on their own.

“Steve -”

His fingers grab your chin like at the shop with just a firm enough hold for you to pull away if you want to but you can’t bring yourself to do it when his eyes threaten to swallow you whole. You wonder if it's just a mirror reflection of your own as he takes some of the new space you’ve given him, so close now that you can feel the heat of his body where yours screams for him most. His brows furrow when your noses brush and he swears he can taste the watermelon of your lip gloss, and then he knows he can when he feels your fingers curl into his shirt tugging him closer.

“I think,” he breathes into your mouth, hesitating just enough to soak it in a second longer before pulling away with an almost pained expression that he quickly tries to cover up, “I think it’s time for me to take you and Robin home.���

He steps back and out of your space, a nervous hand running through his hair like he did something he wasn’t supposed to do. His eyes meet yours again and there's something apologetic that swirls in the deep forest that watches you tug your skirt down straightening up.

”I’ll uh, I’ll give you a minute while I go wrangle Robin.” 

He takes one last look at you like he really needs to be sure of something before finally walking out and leaving you alone to wonder how the night ended with you here. Skirt rucked up, trying to catch your breath in Steve Harrington’s room.

———-

🌻 beta’d by @superblysubpar

[sanjisblackasswife]

Hey Tate hope you’re doing well! Do you have any spicy headcannons of the Monster Trio + Law? Love your writings 😮‍💨

A/N: THANK U :D My stupid ass thought I already did this HA I didn’t though. I have a nsfw alphabet for these guys too in my drafts so I’ll try to make this one short (keyword: try) I gotchu tho thank u for requesting! Enjoy!:)

ALSO TYSM FOR 400 FOLLOWERS OMG🤍

General NSFW Headcanons for the Monster Trio and Law

Black Fem Reader in Mind

Ft. Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, & Law

CW: Just General Smut ig? Not too descriptive tho

-

Sanji

He has the highest libido obvious fact is obvious out of all the men listed so if you’re his woman prepared to be harassed like a mf.

Okay not really harass but when he is feeling very needy he subconsciously touches you; lingering touches, hand on your waist, rubs your lower back. He doesn’t really realize he is doing either until you look up at his flustered face and tell him

Imma keep saying it: Sanji moans in French in your ear and it’s the hottest thing to ever experience

He loves to overstimulate and edge himself whether he is alone or with you he doesn’t care but if he’s with you than have fun because you’re ganna have tears running

Sanji enjoys seeing you wear lingerie. It’s almost like a kink/fetish to him and sometimes he just ends up having sex with you with it still on

Sanji loves having his fingers sucked. He didn’t realize he liked it so much until you did it once after he fingered you

Speaking of fingers: he absolutely loves seeing the sight of his ring and middle finger in your cunt. 12/10 experience and he can do it all day

He fingers you a lot while he cuddles you in bed. You’ll be half asleep and suddenly feel Sanji’s hands squeeze your breast and lazily rub your clit

Sanji does in fact believe your pleasure is more important than his so sometimes when he feels himself getting close before you he’ll pull out and use his tongue to pace himself

He loves kissing sm. Can you guess what kinda kissing? Yes, he loves to French kiss he can make out with you for hours and it really doesn’t get boring

He LOVES BOOBJOBS MORE THAN BLOWJOBS. It’s true he told me. He doesn’t care if your tits are huge like Zoro’s or small like mine if he can stick it in between he will. Bonus points if you decide to lick the tip as it comes close to your mouth

His favorite way of initiating sex is starting off with sensual massages. He’ll always start off so slow rubbing the warm oil on your body, his words are super sweet, but then eventually you’ll feel the pads of his thumb rub against your lower lips under the very small towel he gave you barely covering your butt anyways waiting for you to beg just a little for him to flip you over and go down on you. It ends being very messy I may make a Drabble of this

He jacks off a lot on the Sunny. He usually does it in the bathroom when everybody is distracted and not in the kitchen.

Sanji would make it clear to you that he wants YOU to come to HIM when you’re feeling needy. If he catches you masturbating without him he’ll feel like he isn’t satisfying you enough so he’ll ofc think it’s hot seeing you, but will be very pouty

He always enjoys the thought of being marked up by a woman so pls do it and leave hickies on him :( he wears button down shirts for a reason!

When Sanji first got a blowjob from a woman he cried after cuming in her mouth

Everything is very romantic and sensual with Sanji. A night with him will always be memorable

He is really good and fast learner of the woman’s body. He can find the G-Spot very quickly

Everytime they dock on a new island he sometimes try to see if they have a brothel, but never actually goes in he just wants to know they’re there. He doesn’t like the thought of paying for sex

He LOVES STRIP TEASES! Pushing him on his back and doing it on his lap really gets him going

Sanji’s favorite position is like a cuddle fuck; his body is wrapped and on top of you giving your deep hard thrust because he loves the noises you make right in his ear when he pushes inside you

He needs to hold hands—-when doing oral, when having sex he doesn’t care he needs to feel your hands

He gives the best tongue baths too. His tongue in general is a weapon in and of itself

Law

He has a pretty low libido, but it’s high when he’s stressed out or you manage to successfully tease him which is so difficult

He’s the biggest tease out of all of them though jackass

He only masturbates in the shower because he hates leaving an unnecessary mess to clean afterwards

When he feels needy which is rare he’ll make you work with him all day, getting up to hover over your body, and tell you stupid ass facts about the female anatomy (I’m sorry but Law has no clue how to flirt and yall will not fight me on this)

“You know an orgasm a day is healthy for women with cramps.”

“I don’t have any cramps right now.”

“That’s not the point—“

He hates the thought of a woman dominating him. He just does. He doesn’t mind you being on top, but just know he will be doing all of the work

Speaking of being on top thats his favorite position. He enjoys the sight of your body squirming on top of him

Law May not have a high libido but he’s an undercover pervert KSBSJSKSK

Law’s mind is so perverted pls. He has a really good poker face but when he sees your attempts in trying to seduce him all he can think about when you turn out the door in defeat is to pull you back and take you right there on the wall

Law can be kinda awkward he tries to initiate sex. Keyword though: TRIES. Usually it doesn’t take much for you to want to jump on his Dick but he doesn’t understand the power he has over you so when he makes an effort to be hot it’s so funny

“Law why are you shirtless in my room?”

“I thought you would like it—“

He’s a doctor so he knows the anatomy of a woman so him finding the clit or your sweet spot is never an issue

Law doesn’t like bald 🐱. He knows the importance of having pubic hair on a woman so if you ever feel like you need to shave he’ll tell you not to worry about it

The first day after meeting Luffy he room’ed you and him to a hotel and fucked you senseless out of frustration because he didn’t want to have to clean any messes in his room or office. You actually appreciated the Strawhats for that

Law gets so turned on with thigh high socks and a big tee shirt (bonus points if it’s his shirt) he just really likes it and when you tease him about it he gets so mad and pink

Law is a grunted and if you manage you grind or lick in the right direction he’ll grip any fatty part of your body and huff out your name

Loves when you take his hat to wear when you ride him

He enjoys shower sex alot. However he still likes to make you naturally aroused and not use the water as a lubricant

Law likes to hear what you want done to yourself by him so he’ll usually start teasing you and ask you to “use your words.”

He likes to make out with you with you straddling him while he grabs your thighs

His worse fear is being caught with you so if you have an exhibition kink you’re ganna be disappointed.

Luffy

His libido wasn’t high until he got with yo horny ass

He didn’t see the interest in sex. He knew what that was but didn’t care for it. But after you gave him head once and since he has an additive personality he is all for it.

I Like how a lot of people hc him as the type to blurt out when he wants to have sex so yes I hc that too. If you and him just had sex that morning and later that evening he wants it again, he’ll be like “Y/N tonight I want you in my room.” While just casually eating and announcing it during dinner with absolutely no shame

He knows what jacking off is and he doesn’t do it alot because he doesn’t really feel the need to. Only when he wakes up with a morning wood he’ll go to the bathroom (or under his covers) and take care of himself

Sex with Luffy is actually really fun! He likes trying new things each time and makes alotta funny remarks—

“Should I make my Dick get longer or thicker?”

“Luffy Just put it in!”

Luffy likes quickies A LOT. So expect to feel his stretchy arms pull you across the ship mid conversation to be took on the storage room wall.

He likes hitting it from the back. Luffy will use his arms to wrap around your body many times and just go ham from behind.

Speaking of going ham his stamina and impatience knows no bounds so you have to teach him the importance of foreplay because if not he will try and do it while you’re dry and nobody needs that.

Luffy has a really attractive voice when he is close to cuming. He’s very loud too so sometimes you have to make him suck on your fingers or kiss him to be quiet

Luffy is such a sloppy pussy eater and sometimes you Gatta bring his head back up because he will end up accidentally eating your ass if you’re not careful

He doesn’t know where the clit is and misses it a lot so you have to guide him

He likes to watch you masturbate. HE LIKES IT ALOT ALOT. He’ll catch himself resting on his elbows seeing you rapidly rub circles on your clit with a tent forming in his pants. He manages to ignore it a lot to demand commands from you

“Put two fingers in.”

“Use both hands.”

He bites you when he’s close to cuming. Fucking feral child

He doesn’t even like jacking off he wants you to do it for him while he’s still half clothed and you’re completely naked

He’s a pervert but he doesn’t know it KSHSJDKS

He likes seeing you in short skirts just to watch the bottom of it blow up to expose your little panties when you bend over

His head is always on, under , or hovering over your titties. Not even just when having sex just in GENERAL

He put his hat on you when you ride him

He also loves reverse cowgirl it turns him on sm seeing your ass bounce on his Dick :((((

Luffy enjoys hearing you moan “Captain” under him.

Absolutely the type to start having sex with you and immediately stop if he can

He can be going down on you, so super into it and you’re right at the brink of cuming when he just stops

“Lu—?!”

“LOOK WE MADE IT TO AN ISLAND!”

“IM NOT FINISHED YET?!”

He is a licker too. He will lick your face, body, he doesn’t give af and sometimes it’s not even sexual you can be eating a juicy fruit and he will lick the remainder juice off your cheek

He’s a really good kisser when he slows tf down. He usually tries to eat your damn face when he kisses you

Luffy kisses you out of excitement alot too.

He’s naturally touchy so he will always have you wrapped around his arms

He views sex as something similar to a conversation so sometimes you or Nami have to slap him when he exposes stuff you do in the bedroom

“And Y/N really likes when I shove my tongue in her—“

“LUFFY!”

He’s kinda a switch at heart? When he is on top he has such a raspy groan but when you’re on top he’s such a whiny little thing it’s so cute

Zoro

His libido is medium but he blames it on you lmao

“You’re the reason I’m like this.”

“You asked to eat MY pussy?!”

He makes you bite his sword. He loves hearing you moan but seeing you struggle to conceal them between your teeth looks even hotter tbh

He SOMETIMES knows where the clit is—he gets an attitude when you have to show him

“I knew where it was…”

“You were about to finger my ass—.”

He didn’t make a lot of noise at first, which kinda annoyed you because you could tell he was holding back so you started to suck his neck causing him to moaned out and it shocked you because it sounded so much more different than his natural deep voice

“Wh—what?!”

“Your moans are hot do it again…”

“GET OFF OF ME—“

He gets flustered so easily, sometimes all you have to do is compliment how strong he is and he wanna pounce on you.

Speaking of strength he absolutely has a size kink

He enjoys fucking you against a wall more than a bed

He also likes doing the 69 standing up this mf has no shame

Contrary to belief before he became a Strawhat he jacked off a lot. Then slowed down but then picked it back up when getting with you

Once again your fault somehow

He will not—for any reason—have you ride him. Everytime you try He just flips you over. It has nothing to do with being dom or sub because if anything he can be a bratty sub (SOMETIMES) but he just doesn’t want you on top. You’ve asked him about this and he just says “Because I’m always on top.” Like afucking child pouting

You really believe it’s because he can’t handle it

And it’s true

He don’t mind you riding his face though

That’s actually his go to when giving oral

He is another one that can start something and not finish it without being phased by it. He has done this to you a handful of times. Sometimes because he fell asleep or he was punishing you

Yes he has fell asleep when inside you or when giving your oral

He swears he has the best self control but once you start bending over wiggling that round jiggly ass of yours he loses all sense as a man

Booty Hunter Zoro is canon so not fight me on this

He is like Law. He doesn’t give af about a hairy 🐱. It’s not based on preference he’s just the type to be like:

“Open your legs.”

“I didn’t shave—-“

“I don’t give a fuck open your legs.”

He likes the feel of it Lowkey

Don’t make out with this man unless you wanna get fucked ok that’s the deal that’s just how he works

Like I said he isn’t loud but if you’re just feeling too good for him that one particular day he’ll groan continuously in your ear praising and degrading you

Doesn’t care if he gets caught

He does prefer a bigger woman only because he can manhandle them more and not worry about hurting you

He loves spreading you open very WIDELY and just jackhammering you.

Zoro doesn’t know how to be sensual if you hit him with it but he will TRY, HE WILL

He makes you cockwarm him a lot while you’re in the CN to help him have self control it’s the best and worse thing

He always wanted you to give him a blow job under the table while he is in a public restaurant but don’t know how to approach you about it

Will tongue kiss you with his cum still in your mouth

[eviesaurusrex]

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ

Harry Styles x British Royal!Reader

Her Royal Highness Princess YN, daughter to Prince Charles and late Princess Diana, Prince and Princess of Wales, younger sister to Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, and Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, and granddaughter to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh would’ve never thought to meet Harry Styles by accident—by literally running into him. And Harry Styles would’ve never thought to meet the Princess of England again after that seemingly fateful afternoon.

faceclaim: Saoirse Ronan

author’s note: If you see any mistakes I made—especially royal title wise—please send an ask (anon asks are enabled!). I seriously love and appreciate your help with that <3

series masterlist » prologue

;

sunflowerbutterfly Sometimes I really hate my job—especially if I have to change out of my comfy pullover and fluffy slippers into a dress, a coat, and some high heels.

Seriously, who invented high heels? Hey Alexa, who invented high heels? … ah, so ancient Iran, aka Persia, is to blame. Great. I will condemn those for centuries dead people happily while I suffer during every step I take this afternoon. Burn in hell, ancient Persian torturer.

Liked by MacMark, murderbane, gingerprince, and 4 others | 6 comments

MacMark You only have to find the shoe.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly It‘s easy for you to say because you can walk in every shoe, Meg 💀

↳ MacMark Well… That is true, but everyone has their pair of shoe 👀

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Then my pair is obviously and most definitely my Nike sneaker or Converse

liked by MacMark

murderbane Rebell against the norms! Wear sneaker!

liked by sunflowerbutterfly

↳ gingerprince Not sure if Granny—or the monarchy as such—would love that suggestion, Meredith.

↳ murderbane Fuck the system!

liked by gingerprince and MacMark

↳ sunflowerbutterfly I know again why Granny won’t let you come to Buckingham for another lunch.

↳ murderbane Oh, come on, YNN! That flying sandwich was fun!

↳ gingerprince Wait, you are the one responsible for the Salmon Sandwich Incident???

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Please, don’t call it that, brother dearest.

↳ murderbane I am! And he definitely can call it that. It’s the truth and nothing but the truth.

liked by gingerprince

gingerprince High heels are way out of my league, but they look uncomfortable. Pack a pair of more comfier shoes as second choice?

↳ sunflowerbutterfly No shit, Sherlock 🙄

↳ gingerprince I am sorry that I don’t know more about the secrets of a lady 👀

↳ sunflowerbutterfly I know again why William is my favorite brother.

↳ gingerprince He is not and we both know it 👀

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Keep on dreaming 😙

↳ gingerprince I love you too, dear sister ❤️

instylemagazine Princess YN is now arriving at Strand Campus of King’s College London in a fitted navy blue mid-calf coat by Gucci and black velvet high heels by Jimmy Choo. She is wearing her signature golden butterfly pin—an heirloom of her mother, late Princess Diana.

Liked by yourfan1, yourfan2, royalistsbitch, annetwist, and 4,327 others | 1,441 comments

dianaforever The pin 🥺

↳ ynismyqueen She once told a reporter that she always wears it to official appearances because it helps her with her anxiety - it’s like her mom is with her 🥺

↳ dianaforever Oh gosh, that’s so sweet but so sad at the same time 😭❤️

yourfan1 Princess YN is a style icon.

yourfan2 Damn, she looks stunning.

↳ yourfan3 True!!!! Though the hat was kinda over the top, but I know for sure that she doesn’t want to wear those but has to

↳ yourfan2 Everyone is wearing those ridiculous hats, so she has to. She will probably rip it off as soon as she is back in the car 😅

royalistsbitch I’m on my knees again. This coat is gorgeous 😮‍💨 But the price 😩

yn_andharryshipper She is wearing Gucci, he is wearing Gucci, I want them to meet, but it will stay a dream, I know it.

hsfan1 Harry’s mom liked this post 🥺❤️

;

She could feel the looming shadows of her two Royal Protection Officers right at her back. Aaron and Egil—the first broad, dark, and Scottish, the latter tall, blonde, bearded, and Swedish—shielded her body from the screams of reporters and blinding lights of their clicking cameras while the princess climbed into the back of the waiting SUV. Inside the cozily warm vehicle, YN ripped off the obnoxious hat she was supposed to wear and threw it without a second glance onto the seat next to her. Meanwhile, her feet kicked off the high heels, and with a strangled groan, the blonde pulled them up one after the other and massaged her soles with closed eyes.

The left front door got opened as Egil climbed into the car; Bernard—her favorite driver—already sat behind the wheel and looked through the rear mirror back at the princess. She smiled at the sight of his kind and twinkling eyes. “To Starbucks, Your Highness?” He asked while Egil buckled up. YN nodded. “That would be great, thank you, Bernard. But could we grab a cup at the one in Notting Hill? Near Holland Park? I’m most definitely not in the mood for a crowd.”—Which would form in front of the Starbucks near the river on the other Thames bank opposite Westminster because most tourists frequented this shop. The driver hummed and used the blinker. “Of course, Your Highness.”

Sighing, YN leaned back in her seat but pushed back upward as Egil reached between his feet, clad in shining black Oxford shoes, and conjured a shoebox. He turned in his car seat to hand it over to the princess. “Your sneaker,” the blonde giant smiled, and YN grinned happily. “I thought I forgot them back at Kensington!” She exclaimed and grabbed the box with her current favorite Converse shoes—one in lavender and the other one in a sunflower yellow. Ever since the reporters had seen the princess wearing the odd color combination, every single pair was sold out in the UK and other parts of the world. The internet had been full of posts spotting the same two Converse shoes the princess regularly wore in paparazzi shots.

“Your lady in waiting had handed me the box right before we left, Your Highness, together with this,” the Protection Officer told her while YN had already put on the left shoe. Chuckling, she accepted the book carefully wrapped in soft tissue paper. She knew which book it contained, so she quickly continued putting on the more comfortable shoes before leaning back and unwrapping the book. The first edition of Pride and Prejudice was her entire pride and joy. YN knew it was kind of posh to carry this particular edition around instead of a cheaper paperback edition, but she only would read in it during the ride and maybe in the line while she waited for her coffee. No one would suspect it for a first edition, only if one had better knowledge about books than the majority of the population.

“Thanks, Egil,” she smiled, and the Swedish giant only nodded softly. “There’s nothing to thank me for, Your Highness.” And with that, he turned back and left the princess reading in silence.

;

Arriving at the comparably empty Starbucks, YN unbuckled while her door had already got opened by Aaron, who had sat in the car following them with two other Protection Officers. Egil slid off his seat and stationed himself between the opened door and the sidewalk, eyes wandering over the few people strolling down the street. She pushed her finger between the pages before climbing out of the SUV and straightened her coat before pushing a blonde curl behind her ear. The book was opened again in her hands because YN knew how this always went: she would leave the car with Aaron and Egil but would have to wait a few more moments until one of the other officers—Matthew was on duty today—had exited the place in question to give them the all-clear.

The happily moving bell announced Matt’s return, and he nodded to the other two officers. “All clear, only a few customers,” he told them, and YN moved without thought; book still opened and nose buried inside it. Aaron jumped forward to open the door, Egil right at her back, and Matt shielded her side from potential harm before he returned to the second car. “Thanks, A,” the princess mumbled, mind deep inside the world of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy.

“I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.” The words left her lips in a whisper and sighing, her finger stroked over the words, always feeling the wonder over literature as soon as she opened particular books. Pride and Prejudice was one of them.

And maybe it was because she read about the devastatingly romantic endeavors of fictional characters who had a much better functioning love life than the Princess of England ever had. Maybe it was because she always had such bad luck in love and interpersonal relationships ever since growing old enough to have the serious kind of it.

But the universe let her run into a solid chest, her precious book tumbling out of her hands and down to the wooden floor where it laid cover-up.

Suddenly, hectic erupted around her, and Aaron and Egil jumped into action while YN still recovered from the sudden stop. Strong hands were gently wrapped around her upper arms to safe her from following her book to the ground, and the fingers of her right hand had buried themselves into the soft fabric of a pullover out of sheer panic and surprise.

Aaron stepped around and stretched out his hands in order to remove the intruder from the princess while Egil tried to maneuver himself between them and the woman. Blinking multiple times, YN shook off the daze; her eyes wandering over an orange and white striped slip-over, a white and brown plaid shirt underneath until they moved to a handsome face with sharp features, a soft beard shadow covering his chin, cheeks, and the skin over his soft looking upper lip. Sea foam green eyes stared wide and in shock down at her, seemingly still taking in the person he had run into, but YN finally was back in reality as Aaron put his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I need to ask you to step back, sir,” he spoke up in his most scaring officer voice, and as if the brunette only had noticed the presence of the two looming shadows in immaculate black suits now, his wide eyes moved from her face to the towering Scot. After he didn’t follow the order, Aaron grabbed his shoulder and stared him down with a glare as cold as the North Pole. “I said, I need you to step back, sir,” he stressed his request further, the threat lingering in his tone. Egil cleared his throat to get noticed too, and her collision partner almost paled, his hands slowly letting go off her upper arms, but only after he had made sure with another glance she was steady enough.

“Sorry,” he spoke and raised both hands before he took a step back but bent down to get the book from the floor. He looked up to her as he grabbed the old binding, and Harry still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that the Princess of England had run right into his arms. He still wasn’t sure if all of this really happened or if this was a trick of his tired brain. But the grab of one of the suit wearers on his shoulder had been unpleasant enough to make him think that this really is happening to him.

YN stared down at him with just as wide eyes as he paused in his movements and couldn’t comprehend her current reality. Harry Styles crouched in front of her, in a Starbucks store, after she had successfully run him over. Her heart skipped several beats before it started beating in her throat. This wasn’t something usual, not even for the Princess of England.

“Here,” Harry Styles spoke softly after he had raised back to his towering height and held her book in his ring-clad fingers. “Thank you,” she breathlessly whispered but threw her two shadows a warning look. “Everything is fine, Aaron. Egil.” The men nodded shortly but held their gazes settled on the singer, not daring letting him out of their protective sight. YN looked back to the man in front of her, a unsure smile tucking at the corner of her mouth. “I am sorry for that.” It came out almost embarrassed because he obviously didn’t do anything resembling treason or murder. He only had saved her from the embarrassment of meeting the floor with her butt, just like the book had done in her place.

The man with the fluffiest curls she had ever seen only smiled and waved one of his hands lazily. “It’s alright,” he promised before suddenly something seemingly came to his mind. “Your Highness.” And with that, Harry Styles attempted to bow before her, but YN couldn’t have any of that. Gently, she pressed her unoccupied hand and the fist holding her book against his shoulders and shook her head at his confused expression. “Please, don’t do this. I should bow before you.” The princess chuckled. “I mean, I did it often enough in my rooms as a teenager, right in front of a poster of One Direction.” A hand shot up to her mouth and covered it so nothing more embarrassing knowledge would leave it.

And Harry? He stood absolutely stunned there before a soft grin spread over his face—which made him even more handsome in her still unbelieving eyes. But YN didn’t let him utter a single word before pointing over to the staring baristas behind the counter. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if their mouths gaped at the sight of the world’s most famous singer and the Princess of England in their shop. “Would you like to have a coffee? A tea? Something cold? A hot chocolate? After the inconvenience of me running you practically over, it’s the least I can do.” YN was rambling, she knew it but just couldn’t stop.

He made her nervous—as if she wasn’t a grown woman anymore and instead turned back into the insecure teenage girl she used to be (well, even today, she wasn’t the self-confidence in person).

Harry tried to shake his head, but a voice in there screamed to accept the offer to live a few more minutes in her presence. This was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of moment, so he should stretch it as long as possible—not because he wanted the paparazzi to know, but because his former teenager self would kill him if he would run away now. So all he did was slowly nod and instantly patted his shoulder internally because he got to see the most radiant smile he probably had ever witnessed.

Grinning, YN pressed Pride and Prejudice against her chest and suppressed a heavy but blissed sigh at the sight of his growing smile. If she had thought he was irresistible on-screen, she now knew that this assumption was utter bollocks. Harry Styles was even more captivating in reality, face-to-face, and YN almost dreaded the day when he would be in a happy relationship with cats, a wife, and a bunch of kids because it meant she had to bury her crush definitively.

Turning to her protection squad, as she loved to call them, the princess nodded to a table at the halfway point between counter and door. “Why don’t you sit over there until we’re finished? You don’t have to stand around,” the blonde suggested and pointed to a table with a pair of chairs closer to the counter. “You will have the best view of me and the door. Black coffee and a Caramel Frappuccino?” They nodded hesitantly, still not used to the princess's kindness even after years in her service.

As the two went to their assigned table, YN turned back to Harry and smiled up at him. “What would Harry Styles like to have?”

;

pagesix Rumors are getting loud that Harry Styles and Princess YN met at a Starbucks in Notting Hill, London, UK. Several sources claimed to have seen the singer-songwriter and Princess of England together near Holland Park, where she bought him a coffee before talking for hours. Sources say the two celebrities left together after getting another coffee.

Liked by hsfan1, hsfan2, yourfan1, yn_andharryshipper, and 3,287 others | 960 comments

hsfan1 EXCUSE ME???? 😱

1direction4ever She always was a 1D fan, if I remember correctly, so this would be just ✨chefskiss✨

hsfan2 SCREAMING RIGHT NOW

↳ yourfan1 SAME???? I literally can’t breathe.

hsfan3 If that’s true… Save me.

yourfan2 This would be a dream come true for YN 🥺

yn_andharryshipper Please stop pushing my expectations.

hsfan4 I SAW THEM 😱😮‍💨

liked by hsfan1, yourfan2, hsfan3, and 77 others

;

“I still can’t believe I ran into the Princess of England,” Harry laughed softly while walking next to the woman in question, steaming hot coffee in hand. YN grinned up to him, an equally steaming to-go cup in hand while contemplating how she had ended up running into Harry Styles, sharing a table at Starbucks, and now strolling through Holland Park next to him with a second coffee in hand.

This day was definitely something entirely else.

“Believe me. I would have never believed if someone had told me this morning I would meet Harry Styles because I run into him,” the blonde returned and shook her head in utter wonder. The singer gently nudged her to the side. “It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one a tad bashful, just so you know.” YN looked up at him while sipping her sweetened coffee and nodded in agreement. “It takes off the awkward edge of the situation, does it not?”

Harry hummed before turning around for the third time ever since they had left Starbucks to stroll through Holland Park just around the corner. “And they’re at your back every time you leave Kensington or Buckingham?” He dared to ask, and the blonde princess looked over her shoulder as well, where Aaron, Egil, and Matthew walked at a respectful distance but kept their eyes either on her very person or on her surroundings. Even Harry was eyed cautiously from time to time. “Every minute of every day I spend outside Kensington. I am sorry if they make you uncomfortable. And again, sorry for their treatment earlier—they are kind of… quick in their actions when it comes to me.” It still seriously bothered her as soon as she remembered the harsh grip Aaron had used on the man next to her, even though it had been her fault, to begin with.

But Harry only shrugged it off before pushing one hand into the pocket of his coat. “I really don’t mind, and the situation earlier is already forgotten. Really,” he told her with empathy as his eyes had witnessed the unconvincingly furrowed blonde brows. “I only imagine it to be… constricting. I have the freedom to walk around without security when I’m not on my way to shows or interviews and all the stuff, but you…” The princess clearly could see and hear the sympathy of the singer, but she only shrugged with a small smile. “I am used to it—it had always been this way. I can’t remember a moment outside the palace where I didn’t have them trailing behind me. Even during my studies at Oxford.” Now, Harry looked back again. “So… The dark brooding shadow and the light, bright giant always sat behind you in a sea of young adults? Let me guess.” He grinned now, and YN felt her heart beating even faster than it already did. She just had to laugh. “Yes, if you guessed that they had a lot of female admirers trailing behind them, then you are totally right,” the princess chuckled, the memories still very vivid in her mind. The man grinned as well and softly grabbed her hand to steady her as YN kind of stumbled over a bump on the stone path, and both felt their hearts flutter.

“Sometimes I’m too clumsy for this world,” she mumbled behind her coffee cup, and Harry chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, it never shows,” he winked. YN felt the blood rising into her cheeks and hid them in the collar of her coat. “I am glad to hear that. Imagine what Granny would say if she knew that the entire Commonwealth gossiped over their clumsy princess.” She always knew how to change topics involving compliments into a joke. Her family didn’t like that very much. But Harry seemingly caught up to it, judging by the knowing expression settling on his devilishly handsome face. “What does she say about the gossip throughout the country that their princess is a sworn Harry Styles fan?” YN let her head fall back while a laugh escaped her. “She took it surprisingly good. Well, she isn’t a huge fan of me talking to god knows what interviewers, magazines, and newspapers, but she knows my opinion about it and how rarely I change my mind if someone tries to change it—especially if the someone is part of my family. So, naturally, she wasn’t a fan of the entire world knowing the contents of my playlists. But my music preferences never bothered her, and I think she even enjoys some of your songs, but don’t ever mention that to her.” Smirking, YN softly shrugged to end her small monologue. Sometimes she really couldn’t shut her bloody mouth.

Harry laughed under his breath while maneuvering her around the fountain and behind the line of trees to escape a small group of young adults. “I will keep that in mind in case I’ll ever meet the Queen of England. But after today? I won’t say never ever again.” They rounded some sadly-looking bushes—winter should be cursed and banned from her island—before he increased his steps to stop right in front of her. Cocking a blonde brow, YN looked up to him, unsure what this meant. “I think I would’ve known if you ever went to one of my shows.” She hummed, interested in what this would lead to. But now, Harry looked nervous, as if he hadn’t thought this through, but he proceeded anyway after a deep breath. “Would you like to come to one? I could arrange that you won’t be bothered by anyone, save you a spot backstage, block an entire row for you, whatever you want. I just…”

The brunette fell silent, the panic evident in his eyes, and YN just had to think how thoughtful and… lovely he was. “I just thought you’d might like to come, ‘s all,” the singer ended in a lower tone than before, seemingly trying to find a hole in which he could vanish. But YN smiled warmly up to him, and the sight alone eased his rising anxiety tremendously. “Funny thing you mention that. My brothers and papa gifted me a ticket for the London show in your upcoming tour, so… yeah. It will finally happen.” But then, a thought occurred in her mind, and her bright eyes widened. “Could I come to your Fine Line listening?”

Now, he stared down at her with just as wide eyes as she did and felt himself nodding violently. “Yes! Of course! That… that would be great, actually. It’s supposed to be something small and… intimate, so this would be perfect. I… Give me a sec.” With that, he rounded YN with a mission in mind and stepped up to her protection squad. She couldn’t exactly hear what they talked about, but Harry returned with a piece of paper and a pen. He started to scribble something on the white surface as he stopped in front of her and smiled as he handed it over. YN took it, of course, and examined the number and the ‘Harry’ written in pretty handwriting. “You are aware of the fact that I possess and carry around a phone in my pockets?” The princess asked with a smile tucking at her lips, but Harry only shrugged. “I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to seem rude in assuming anything.” Her heart fluttered again at his thoughtfulness.

This man simply was a literal angel.

“It’s my private number. You can call or text me whenever you want. The details for the listening event aren’t wrapped up yet, so if you have dates in mind—let me know, yeah? I’d love to have you there because… I don’t know. You are just easy to talk to, and I think you’d enjoy this little get-together with some people to listen to me rambling about my writing and recording process, and me singing, of course, and that sounds so narcissistic, and I’m sorry for that, and…-“

YN stepped closer to him and tapped his lips gently with the white card to make him stop. “You do not have to worry about how you sound because I know you are not a narcissist. You just love what you’re doing. And I would love to see you in your element and talk to your lovely fans because Harries are the best kind of company.” He sighed deeply before taking a deep breath. “Okay.” She smiled up at him. “Okay,” she repeated and took a glance at her watch. “Fuck.” She surprised them both with her small outburst. “I totally forgot the time, but this was probably the best afternoon I had in a very long time.” Harry took her emptied cup out of her hand and threw them both in the bin next to the sadly-looking bush. “I will never forget the story about the Salmon Sandwich Incident,” the brunette told her with a serious look before breaking out into a chuckle, to which she followed close. “Dito with the Cheeto ice cream story.” Another laughing fit caught the pair before YN slowly held out her hand, which Harry gladly accepted.

They stood there for a rather long time, just shaking hands and staring into each other’s eyes, taking in the sight of one another while stressing the moment into infinity. “I have to go,” YN whispered, and Harry nodded. “I know.” But still, he didn’t let go of her hand, nor let she go of his. “I really want to see you again,” he all of a sudden almost burst out even though his brain had told him to keep this wish a secret. But after nearly three hours in her company, Harry couldn’t let her just go without letting her know what he thought. Surprise settled on her face. “You do?” The surprise was even evident in her voice. “Yes, I do. And not just at events or shows, or on the television.” Her breath hitched in her throat, and the princess swallowed dryly and tried to suck enough oxygen into her lungs to answer him properly.

“I’d love that.”

;

vanityfair Today’s guest is singer-songwriter Harry Styles! We had the pleasure to talk about the process behind his new studio album Fine Line, how life has treated the 26-year-old in the past months, and to which realizations he came during the promotion of his new album.

Liked by sunflowerbutterfly, hsfan1, hsfan2, gemmastyles, jefezoff, and 38,691 others | 14,436 comments

vanityfair “I recently had the most interesting and… and most mind-opening conversation in a very long time. You see, even though there are millions of celebrities out there in the world, there are… I don’t know, differences between some and others. I, for example, can cross the street and get my groceries without security officers behind my back, while others can’t do ordinary things like that—think about it for a second, and you are made painfully aware of the freedom and… and independence you hold. I can’t say it in other words, but I felt privileged when realizing it. Society has to keep that in mind before throwing assumptions through the room because even celebrities are only human.”

liked by hsfan1, yourfan1, annetwist, gemmastyles, and 2,316 others

↳ hsfan1 I’m so sure that he talks about YN if the rumors are true 🥺

↳ yourfan1 that’s definitely about YN, can’t change my mind.

hsfan2 He looked so handsome in that slip-over 😮‍💨

harrystylesforever He speaks the truth.

harrystylesfanpage Handsome, thoughtful, a literal angel. One could not ask for more in a man.

liked by sunflowerbutterfly, hsfan5 and 12 others

yourfan2 I wish the universe would grant me the sight of YN and Harry together in a happy relationship, but I know that that’s not possible because of Royal Protocol or some shit.

↳ royalistsbitch It is possible, but imagine the situation YN is in after her second brother married a “commoner”. She probably has the pressure to marry another royal because her Grandma wants it that way 😩

liked by yourfan2, yourfan3, ynismyqueen and 33 others

;

Returning to Buckingham had been unpleasant. Not because she disliked the palace—she kind of loved it, actually—but because she knew how her Grandma would react after she most definitely had read the articles and assumptions wildly thrown around. Her Granny never really believed what the tabloids wrote, but she still asked every single time her face appeared in one of these ever since that… incident with Lewis Cornwall, son of Nicholas Cornwall, Duke of Hastings and her father’s—former—closest friend. YN knew that she only deeply cared for her youngest granddaughter and always wanted to know her side of the stories circulating through the world before finally going down the drain because something new sparked the tabloids’ interest.

God bless the short attention span of those, the princess thought cynical.

“Her Majesty awaits you in the blue salon,” Harold, one of the many butlers, told her after the blonde had left the car, only two days after her fateful meeting with Harry Styles. With a soft sigh, YN walked up the many stairs, put carpeted hallways behind her, and crossed employees with a gentle smile on her lips and a nod of her head before finally arriving in front of the blue salon. Taking a last deep breath, the princess entered the grand room with the blue wallpapers through the wide-open French doors; her eyes immediately fell onto the white-haired woman sitting on one of the armchairs, signature purse on the coffee table right next to her. A few years back, it had its spot next to her feet, but now, with even more years on her life scale, the Queen opted to have it on elevated places so she didn’t need to bend down anymore.

“Ah, there you are,” the Queen of England greeted her granddaughter, and YN walked over to her, bent down, and pressed a loving kiss to her wrinkled cheek. “Excuse me, Granny. I just got your message and tried to get here as fast as possible,” she explained, but the older woman only dismissed her excuse with a slight raise of her hand. “Nonsense, darling. Only because I scream for attention does not mean you have to rush away from whatever appointment you had to get to your old Grandma.”

Chuckling, YN situated herself on the armchair opposite her and mumbled a silent “Thank you” as Hugh came with the tea. Taking the saucer with the cup of tea on it in hand, she softly stirred through the perfectly brewed Earl Grey with a hint of lemon and a teaspoon of sugar inside. She sometimes preferred milk to lighten the taste a bit, but with her Granny, she always drank it the most British way.

“Am I allowed to take a sip and get a bite of that sandwich, or do you want to get straight to the point?” YN asked with a smile tucking at her lips, and the Queen showed one of her rare grins, specially reserved for her grandchildren and her husband. “I thought I would let you taste the new recipe for the tomato cream first,” Elizabeth returned, and the princess laughed softly before putting down the saucer and the cup and folding her hands in her lap. “No, you can jump straight to the point.”

The Queen sipped on her tea herself before morphing her expression into something resembling seriousness. YN leaned back in the armchair, crossing her legs and elbows resting on the armrests. “I never object your tendencies to wander and stroll around the city, nor do I object your fondness of talking to… interesting magazines like a common celebrity. I fully understand that you belong to a different generation, which handles things differently. But what I have to object to is your contact with said common celebrities.” Cocking a blonde brow, YN waited for her to continue. “A singer, YN,” she almost spat it out as if his profession was something bordering scandalous. All the princess could do was shrug her shoulders. “I don’t see what is so wrong about being a singer for a living, especially if one is a worldwide known and praised artist. He is British, English even, Granny.”

Elizabeth didn’t laugh about it. Instead, her forehead furrowed tremendously, white eyebrows knitted. “This is not something to jest about, YN Diana.” Oh, they had reached the second name dropping. Sighing, YN put both feet on the ground and leaned forward, forearms resting on her knees, confusion visible on her face. “I don’t understand the fuzz about all of it, Grandma. You never objected to my friendship with Meredith or Archie, even after he had given up every single title and started his acting career. Why the sudden change?” The Queen eyed her intently. “Meredith and Archibald are proper associations for a princess.” Now she had lost her entirely. “And Harry Styles is not? The most thoughtful and loveliest man ever in existence is not a proper acquaintance?” Her Grandmother sighed deeply. “You don’t know him, YN, and… look how he dresses. This is certainly not an adequate connection for a princess. You have to think about this family, YN, about your title and position. You are not a commoner, so you cannot behave like one, not if you do not want to end like your…-“

The princess raised jerkily to both feet and let the Queen herself grow silent. “Do not dare to end that sentence how you intended to end it,” she whispered with a strained voice, anger boiling in her body, eyes resting unmoving on the older woman in front of her.

Gladly, Jameson just entered with a bow but stopped at the sight of the standing princess. “I am sorry, Your Highness, I didn’t know you were here. I will return when…-“ But YN shook her head. “No, it’s alright, Jameson. I was on my way out anyway,” she told him with as much grace as she could muster because she felt like screaming and leaving this place running. She spared another glance at her Granny before curtsying just as she had been drilled all her life. “Grandmother,” was all the princess said before leaving the blue salon to return to Kensington, back into the safety of her home.

;

First of all, thank you so freaking much for the AMAZING and mindblowing support on the first chapter of this little series. I’m already thinking about adding more chapters to it because I’m so in love with it. Let me know if you’d like that or if I should add little blurbs here and there! And now, thanks for reading this second chapter. Hope y’all liked it <3

Taglist: @onecrazydirectioner @tinyhrry @feestyles @r3vivedbur @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @oh-its-jennyyy @butdaddyiluvvhim @cwiphswmwasohmm @agustdpeach @sleutherclaw @formulasatellite @princessmiaelicia @rororo06 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @venomsvl @maraudersrry @theroosterswife24 @lovurryy @indierockgirrl @lazybot @laura-naruto-fan1998 @awesomebooklover17 @ihavelovedyousincewewere18 @illicithallways @mrosales16 @keriberry @b-reads-things @bugg06

I hope I got everyone on the taglist. If you miss your name—please reach out!

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Birthday

Request: Ok but the way I like low key wanna go to a strip club with Chris and watch him sit back while a stripper with a big ass twerks on him and gives him the absolute time of his life 💀

Request: Hey am I request a Chris Evans x black reader where they’re neighbors

Request: Could you do a Chris x Shy reader where the reader likes him and he likes her but she doesn’t know he likes her. Could it be possibly a smut with a really freaky reader thankssssss <333

Request: Chris Jamal evans eating plus sized! Readers ass 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Summary: when you told Chris you wanted him to teach you a thing or two after your divorce, he hadn’t been expecting it like this.

Pairings: Chris Evans x black!plus sized! Neighbor! Reader

Warnings: minors dni, smut, daddy kink, Duggar-esque religious beliefs, strippers, lap dance,  cunnilingus, analingus, rough sex, humiliation, dirty talk, breeding kink, sort of cuckqueaning

(A/N: this is kinda different. Idk just thought it would be fun to write a story about a fundie girl getting corrupted by this man 🤷🏾‍♀️ hopefully you guys see what I was going for cuuuuz 😳 lol and I had to combine a lot of requests cuz they’ve just been sitting and I’ll feel better once they’re gone. This story is unedited so if you see mistakes idk what to tell you. anyway like, follow, and comment with a reblog 💜 ✌🏾)

———-—————-—-—————-———

It wasn’t like he’d gotten well-aquatinted with the side no one else was allowed to see by now. You’d gotten yourselves into some messes for sure. Messing around in inappropriate places. His shy girl turned naughty slut and only for him.

Like that time he was finger fucking you in the back of a very packed movie theatre. You just looked so fucking hot that night. At least the movie was rated R.

Or the time he made you orgasm on vacation because he made you keep a bullet vibrator inside of you. As he made you cum in the water while you were on the beach. Watching your face change as you buried yourself into his chest trying to stop yourself from crying out. All he could do was smirk at you. Fucking slut.

If anything you were just paying him back which was fair. The two of you had been very worked up. It was kind of hard since no one really knew the two of you were a thing. As far as everyone else knew you were just his sweet little neighbor.

No one had even expected you to come out tonight anyway. You seemed like a shy thing but he knew better. Just cuz you had Scott and everyone else fooled didn’t mean he was the same way. He could tell you were a freak from the moment he met you and yet he’d still been unprepared by it.

You just did things no one else would ever think to do. By now he’d gotten the chance to enjoy your true nastiness. The way you let him fuck you anywhere he felt like. Had become his free use slut.

The two of you weren’t technically a couple yet but after tonight he doesn’t know. This had been new even for you. He didn’t even know you were- it was just so unexpected.

Fuck, it was hot, though, you trying to hang. Obviously you’d been invited to dinner and from there it ended up being wherever the wind took all of you.

First a bar not far from the restaurant. He’d made you sit by him all night. Barely let you out of his sight. Knew one of his friends had a little crush on you and he wasn’t about to catch himself slipping just cuz it wasn’t official.

You’d been all pouty and shit about how bad you felt about not bringing a gift. Not like it was your fault. It was kind of last minute anyway. Hell he thought he was going to be out of town but he… fine he wanted to see you. So he made the quick trip. Scott told everyone to come out for dinner and there you were.

You were wearing this dress you knew he liked. One that he really liked taking off of you. He doesn’t think you saw yourself in the way he did but holy fuck did he see you. Just everything since that first moment when you’d moved in. How shy you’d been because you definitely were not used to having a neighbor like him.

You came from a much smaller community. Had moved in next door with your husband. Well, ex-husband.

While nothing happened when you were married, the two of you had gotten close. Where you were from divorce was uncommon, but since it had been five years with no baby it was kind of inevitable.

The pressure to conceive had started getting to you around the second year. By then your now ex had been trying to be all buddy buddy with him. Trying to convert him and shit. He played along for a minute just to get close to you cuz underneath the modesty clothing he really liked what he saw.

And it wasn’t like he swooped in after the papers were filed either. He’d just done a lot to help considering your parents were trying to make you go back home to raise your siblings or nieces and nephews.

By then your friendship had grown to where he was not going to let that happen. Had even managed to get you a lawyer when they tried to force you to give up the house. Saying that since the church owned it, you had to leave but you were taking your seat ass time to move out.

When the two of you first started messing around you’d been asking him questions. Had never done this before. Never got to date. Didn’t even get to have your first kiss until the officiant said, ‘you may now kiss the bride.’

He didn’t want to take advantage of you knowing how inexperienced you were, but it quickly became clear that you were going to be a monster all on your own. He’d rather be the one taking care of you rather than getting yourself into dangerous situations out of curiosity. And fuck was he more than happy to be given the honors.

He genuinely hadn’t expected that side from you. After being blamed over and over about the fertility issues plaguing your past relationship, you seemed more than ready to explore a side of you that you would have never been able to before.

Wanted to know what it was like for a man to slap your ass and pull your hair. To be called dirty, filthy names. To be degraded and treated like the slut you weren’t supposed to want to be, but tonight had pushed the limit.

He wonder what your ex would say if he saw you. It had been something you’d never thought you’d do but you were down for anything Daddy told you to be down for.

What a fucking loser didn’t see what the fuck he had? That if he just treated you right, he probably would have been able to keep you. Sucks for him because Chris wasn’t planning on fumbling that bag. Not after tonight. His mind had been officially made up. Where the fuck was he about to find another nasty girl like you.

Last time I saw you, you’d been kind of upset. It had been hard to shake those teachings sometimes. Had worried that he’d judge you or think less of you. Clearly right now none of that was on your mind as your only goal seemed to be getting to his dick.

And, fuck he was not complaining. Hell no. Who the fuck was he to turn down road head especially after the shit the two of you had just gotten up to.

When one of the guys joked about going to a strip club, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Had even offered to just take you home where he knew he’d end up texting them that something came up since he knew he’d be to busy trying to get balls deep in you.

You surprised him by saying, “I wanna go.” When you said you wanted to try new things you’d definitely meant it. If anything he was proud of the little deviant he’d turned you into.

You’d looked so cute watching them dance with those wide eyes. He was still close to you not helping as he paid attention to your reactions.

Had whispered in your ear for you to stop money in one of the girls thong. Chris laughed and almost forgot that the two of you were supposed to be a secret cuz he really wanted to fucking kiss you.

Besides the dancer seemed to take a liking to the two of you. Moving onto his lap first to sit on him. “You know you and your girlfriend are pretty cute,” she said. “You should come in the back for a dance.”

And he wasn’t even going to correct her that you weren’t technically his girlfriend cuz hell you may as well be. Which meant he wanted you to be okay with it. At the same time though you couldn’t just expect him to not react when a woman with a big ass like hers was moving all on him.

He motioned with his head for you to get up. Not even giving you a chance for a choice. You wanted to come to a strip club he’d show you what it was like. Why hold back.

As she moved over him you sat beside him all giggly. Chanel staring back at you with a smirk as she started grinding down on him. You watching as she twerked, biting your lip.

He still couldn’t stop watching you. Trying to see how far you were gonna let him go with this. Getting a little closer and looking up at him with big eyes. Fuck it. Didn’t matter that another girl was in his lap then you wouldn’t mind if he kissed you.

“How you feeling, Baby?” He asked.

“Good,” you squeaked out which made him chuckle. So fucking cute. And you were really letting him just ruin whatever innocence your parents tried to install in you.

As if you would go home to live without this. At this point he’d made you his little addict. Pushing you further and further with each encounter, but there was definitely something in particular about this month.

“Happy birthday, Daddy,” you whispered in his ear, kissing his earlobe making him shiver. How even when a stripper was giving him a lap dance the reaction he got from you was so much more intense.

“It’s your birthday?” Chanel gasped finally turning around. “Why didn’t you say so?” She asked, putting her hands on either side of his shoulders so she could sink down on him again this time straddling him. Tits all in his face as she sat like that.

Chris chuckled. “Yup that’s why we’re here,” he said. “My girl’s never done this before.”

“What!” She gasped again and pouted at you. “Awww. Oh my gosh maybe I need to be dancing on you.”

“Oh you should definitely give her a dance,” Chris said with a wink.

He could see you tense up almost worrying that he’d taken it too far but he still wanted to see what would happen. Chanel moving moved off of him to you relaxing as you started giggling when she moved towards you.

The dancer giggled back the two of you starting off on your own little conversation. She was clearly trying to make you feel more comfortable. “That’s my good girl,” he leaned over to whisper in your ear. “My girl is down for anything I tell her to be, huh?”

You nodded at him as Chanel put her knee between your legs as she gyrated along your thigh. “You two are so damn cute,” she cooed.

At some point she moved back to Chris and you’d gotten so worked up that you couldn’t help yourself as you started kissing his neck. Honestly if the two of you hadn’t gotten out of there when you did, he would have popped.

Hadn’t even bothered to go back to his friends, just texting one that the two of you were leaving. His hand in yours as you went to the car.

“You doing okay?” He asked before he could open up the door for you.

“Mhm,” you hummed back with a smile.

“Did you have fun?”

“Mhm,” you hummed again, seeming to be lost in your head.

Chris found himself really wanting to kiss you. Fuck after all that he was really pent up. You put your hands around his neck as he pushed against you. Wanting you to feel his hard on.

He was just happy you were kissing him back. Had worried about scaring you off. That was a lot for you all at once. He didn’t want to completely overwhelm you tonight.

“Are you having a good birthday?” You asked him

“Course I am,” he replied with a smile before pecking your lips again. “My naughty little girl letting me play with a stripper in front of her. What would your husband have to say about that?” He teased.

You always giggled whenever he did that and this time was no different. Smacking his shoulder and scoffing. “Probably have a heart attack,” you said.

“Do you think he’d call your dad like when he found your sex toys?” Chris laughed making you do the same. God, that had been so embarrassing.

By then you’d already told Chris your dilemma. How you wanted to explore. He’d of course taken it upon himself to fund your exploration. By now he’d had a lot of fun using them on you. Shame your ex saw them as competition and not teammates. Maybe he could have kept you around.

“Oh, definitely,” you replied. “Woulda snatched me up.”

“Yeah? Sucks for him cuz I’d have to snatch you back,” he said before kissing you again. You moaned into his mouth, nails clawing into his shoulder.

“Fuck, Chris,” you moaned into his mouth making him smirk.

Fuck he needed to get you home.

It was like you’d grown impatient during the car ride that it was taking so long to get there that you couldn’t keep your hands off of him. Not like he didn’t know how needy you could get.

Hell if he’d known how you would end up reacting to having another woman twerking on him, he would have done it sooner. When you said you wanted to try new things, you’d fucking meant it, but damn he hadn’t been expecting it like this.

“What’d you think about Chanel?” He asked. Wanting to push things a step further. “You didn’t feel weird seeing me with her?”

“I mean… I dunno. I wouldn’t call it weird…”

“Yeah?” He asked. “What would you call it? Did you like it?” You bit your lip. Getting all shy on him. Except that wasn’t good enough for him. How was this supposed to work if you weren’t going to talk to him. “Ah, ah. You know better. I wanna know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

You nodded. “I mean… yeah I guess I did.”

“What about when she was all over you? Did you like that too.” You bit your lip again and he had to glance over at you when you once again hesitated on your answer.

You caught yourself before he could say anything. Good girl. “I mean… yeah… it was fun.”

“Oh, come on. I saw you moaning and shit. You don’t have to act all shy. I know you liked it.” He glanced back over at you quickly. Happy as hell you two were almost home. “In fact, I gotta say I’m pretty proud of you for how you handled yourself tonight.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “You know, when you told me you wanted to try something’s out I wasn’t expecting you to go this far.”

“I wasn’t either,” you replied. “But you’re right it did feel good.”

“That’s my girl,” he said. “You know you can always tell me anything.”

“I know, Daddy. Thank you.”

“Always, Baby,” he said, grabbing your hand so he could place a kiss to it. He liked that he could push you. Made him wonder what else he could push you to do.

By the time you got home he was already trying to put his hands on you. Kissing you against after he helped you out of the car even though normally you tried to be discrete about your relationship just in case one of the neighbors saw.

As far as everyone knows you were literally just friends. No way Chris would take advantage of a sweet innocent girl like you. If only they fucking knew.

And you didn’t seem to care this time. Letting him grab all on you. Cuz you knew better than to tell him to stop. Fuck all he could think about was getting inside of you.

As soon as you got in the house, Dodger was at your feet. Stopping whatever action as he greeted the two of you. Then whimpering for Chris to take him out. You giggled before pecking his lips again as he groaned.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you told him as you started to walk away from him.

There wasn’t much he could do to rush Dodger. Not that he didn’t try. Goddamn you were really upstairs. Naked in his shower and he was outside making sure his dog used the bathroom. Fucking great.

“Come on, Bubba,” he said finally getting him back inside. Ready to sprint upstairs to you.

He could see you behind the foggy glass still washing up. He just wanted to fuck you so bad right now. To feel you against him. That pussy wrapped around him. Couldn’t get undressed fast enough.

You jumped as he wrapped his arms around your soft body. Curves glistening with water. Damn you had really turned him into an addict, but it was like where the hell was he supposed to find another you. Someone so sweet and cute that would let him do what he’s about to do to you. Fuck yeah he was addicted.

As he opened up the door he stared at you as he caught you playing with your pussy. Eyes closed as you breathed heavily. Good you wanted this just as bad as him. Fingers working over your clit.

Funny a year ago the thought of you even touching yourself seemed like a step too far. Now you were doing it in his shower after what had just happened less than an hour ago.

“D-daddy,” you whimpered.

He needed to fucking have you. “Starting without me, Babe?” He asked, making you jump and open your eyes. You gasped as you looked up at him and he chuckled. “My poor baby, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Then he pouted out his bottom lip before pulling you into his arms.

He leaned down to kiss you finally. His tongue caressing against yours. Grabbing onto that thick ass. Fuck he wanted you so bad.

“You get all nice and clean for me?” He asked, having pulled away. “Or did you get too distracted playing with my pussy?”

“I got distracted.”

“My little slut. Couldn’t keep her hands to herself.”

Chris remembered the first time you asked him to call you names. He wasn’t sure how you would react but all you did was moan for him even louder and repeat it back. That’s when he first knew just how far gone he’d gotten you.

“Tell me what you were thinking about, Baby? Had you moaning for me for a reason.”

“About you letting Chanel dance all over you in front of me,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” He asked. “That turn you on?”

You nodded. “Uh huh. She was all over you.”

“My naughty slut liked seeing another woman all over me.” He chuckled.

“It made me want you so bad.”

“I know, Baby. It made me want you too,” he said before pressing his lips to yours again.

It didn’t take long for his fingers to end up on you now. Picking up from where you’d left off. You crying out for him to fuck you. Needy as hell.

Turning around so you could rub your ass against him as he finger fucked you. “Please, Daddy,” you mewled.

“What is it?”

“I want your dick in me,” you moaned.

“I want you to finish up and go wait on the bed for me, okay?”

You pouted. “But-,”

“But, nothing. You fucking heard me,” he snapped and that was that. You finished washing up and went to finish getting ready for bed. You didn’t want to spend the rest of the night getting punished so you better do what he tells you.

As bad as he just wanted to fuck the shit out of you, he knew how you got when he made you wait. Pushing you and then denying you. Fuck he loved it.

Once again you were there touching yourself. The toy you kept over here in your hand. Greedy fucking slut couldn’t fucking wait.

“Did I tell you, you could use your fucking toy?” He asked with an eyebrow raise.

“No,” you squeaked as you didn’t remove that damn rose from your clit.

He climbed in next to you. Taking hold of the rose. “So horny you just can’t fucking control yourself, huh?”

“Uh huh,” you answered, biting your lip. “Fuck, Daddy,” you whimpered. He started kissing your neck making you cry out. His lips quickly finding your nipples. “Oh my god,” you cried. “Fuck, please, fuck!”

He put the toy to the side when he finally couldn’t resist. Had been dying to eat you out for hours. Needed to taste you.

“Chris!” You gasped and that’s when he knew he had you right where he wanted you. Had you gasping his name as he ate you out like he was starving.

“And you better not fucking cum yet,” he cooed.

He remembered the first time he’d made you cum. You hadn’t even know what the hell that meant. Figured he could show you better than he could tell you and wanted the honors of being the first one to do it for you.

Had gotten you all worked up until you squirted all over his sheets. Had gotten you all embarrassed about it too. Couldn’t believe your husband had never done this for you. Fucking worthless.

He was tempted to see if he could get you worked up like that again except he wanted to fuck you too bad. Didn’t even want to wait for you to suck his dick before finally pushing into you. Cuz this was the first time he was going to feel you for real.

“Chris!” You sobbed as you wrapped your legs around him. “Yes!” You dug your fingernails into his back. Crying out for him in his ear. “Please. Oh, god. I need it. Don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop,” he groaned, grabbing your hands to push them above your head. Pumping his cock in and out of you. “Fucking slut needed my dick bad, didn’t you?”

“Uh huh,” you whimpered, lolling your head back. Fuck he felt so good so deep inside of you. Your ex had never been able to do shit like this to you.

It was funny how easy Chris brought the freak out in you. Had definitely gotten you to this point you don’t think any other man could have ever brought out.

Porn didn’t do what he did to you any justice. You hadn’t been expecting for it to feel like this. Didn’t seem real that something everyone had told you was so bad felt so good, but never this good.

“Please, Daddy,” you whimpered as he hit those bundle of nerves. “Fuck you feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah? I didn’t put a condom on this time, Baby,” he finally told you. “Gonna see what happens if I stuff you with my cum.”

“What do you mean?” You asked him.

“See if I can put my baby in you,” he grunted. “Don’t you wanna know?”

“But, Eddie-,” you were saying.

“Don’t you fucking say his name when my dick is inside of you,” he said, putting his hand around your neck. “I don’t give a fuck what he couldn’t do.”

And he meant every word of that. Only rocking his hips deeper into you. Feeling as you tightened up around him when he grabbed your throat. Eyes getting all blurry and teary.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered.

“That’s right, Baby. You should be. You should fucking know better by now. I think you like saying dumb shit sometimes.”

You let out such an embarrassing moan and he let out a chuckle through his deep breathing. God he loved seeing how worked up you got from being shamed like that.

“Just cuz he couldn’t fuck a baby into you, doesn’t mean I won’t,” Chris said into your ear wanting to keep it going. “Chanel already thought you were my girlfriend. Might as well make you my girl for real, huh?”

You let out another moan with your face all screwed up. Goddamn he was getting you close. “Okay.”

“That’s my pretty girl,” he cooed. “You’re gonna let me fuck my baby into you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Fuck you’re gonna make me- ah!” You cried as you came. Finally getting the release you’d been needing.

“That’s a good girl,” he said before pulling out so he could turn you over. Making sure your ass was in the air. What can he say, he loved manhandling you.

Pushing your cheeks to the side so he could see the wetness from your pussy dripping down to his sheets. He needed to play with it again. Putting his thumb against your slit so he could rub up and down before going to your clit.

“Yeah you want me to get you pregnant, don’t you?” He said. “I bet you’ve been waiting for it. And your pathetic ass would do anything I wanted you to do, huh?”

Another embarrassing ass moan as you shuddered, as he pushed his pointer and middle fingers into you.

“Oh my god,” you cried into the pillow.

He doesn’t know what the fuck it was but all he knew was that he was mesmerized. Couldn’t help himself. Wanting to eat your pussy from the back. You jumped before moving your hips trying to get situated against his face.

God he was obsessed with the way you tasted. Could make a feast out of it. At this point he was so far he was ready to get as nasty as possible trying something he’d never tried before.

You gasped when his tongue touched your puckered hole. “Chris!” As if there was going to stop him. He moaned at the taste. Definitely not about to stop.

Chest heaving as thick moans fell from your lips. You were pretty sure he was trying to torture you.

Chris grabbed your toy again. Turning it back on so he could put it against your clit again. Listening to you scream out.

Finally he stopped just wanting to be inside of you again. It was like you brought out the fucking animal in him. That’s why he just needed to fucking breed you already.

Slamming into you and flexing his hips cuz he just really wanted you to feel it. Putting his hands on either side of your hips so he could dig his nails in.

“See what you fucking do to me?” He asked with a groan. “That’s why I can’t let you go. Gonna keep you under me. You want that too?”

“Yes,” you sobbed. “Fuck. Please. I want you so bad. You’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum again.”

“That’s it, Baby. I want you to cum for me. Want you to keep cumming on my dick.”

Eyes rolling to the back of your head at his words. Couldn’t hold yourself up anymore so you ended up collapsing against the pillows. Chris going with it so he could lay on top of you. Riding your ass as deep as he could as you sobbed.

“Gonna make me a daddy for my birthday, huh?” He asked into your ear.

Why did he have to talk to you like that. Did he have no mercy?

“Fuckin’ answer me,” he said. That Boston accent coming out into your ear. Making you shiver and moan.

“Yes,” you cried.

“Good, Baby. Cuz I’m gonna cum so deep in you.” He groaned. Feeling it creep up in his balls. Knew he wouldn’t be able to pull out even if he wanted to.

“Please,” you moaned.

“And it’s okay if you don’t get pregnant from this time. We’ll just try again and again and again.”

For some reason that was what did. To be honest if it didn’t happen this time he’d be shocked because he found himself shoving in all the way to the hilt so he could cum against your cervix. Just like fucking instinct. Goddamn he doesn’t think he’d ever had an orgasm that intense before.

You laid down with a whimper with him collapsing on top of you. Dick softening before falling out of you.

Scooping you up like he always did so you had to lay all up against him. Really you’d been his girl for a minute. It was about time he officially claimed you.

Especially six weeks later, when the two of you got to see the look on everyone’s faces when you’d pulled up to announce that you were expecting.

[footballffbarbiex]

He would be such a good dad! I bet he'd learn dance routines if one of the kids did dancing classes, just to encourage them more!

Obviously carrying both kids at once just to be a show-off and make the kids laugh as well... oh Rúben 😮‍💨😍

ok so i couldn't resist. i love you anon for doing this 🥺 sorry it took so long, i made and ate lunch. i'm super rusty at writing but this is helping.

_

Rúben watches as you walk ahead of him, your hand wrapped around your little girl's as she continues to talk about the dance recital that she has just completed. She's talking animatedly, her steps are becoming faster as her hand gestures wildly and her words are being spoken quickly.

"Daddy, you wouldn't understand," she concludes, turning her head ever so slightly so she can side eye him as she continues to walk, now copying a slight sway of her body in the same sassy manner that you've done in the past when winning an argument. Sometimes, just sometimes to be annoying, Rúben will throw out a sentence or two which contradict what she's said, just to hear her frustration as she childsplains.

"Oh, would I not?" Rúben asks, amusement seeps into each of his words as he grins. Her dress bag dangles from his fingertips, the mix of leotard and tulle is both weightless and heavy with responsibility.

"No." she answers firmly before sighing loudly and lowering her voice to say, "he's so annoying," to you.

"Annoying, huh?" Rúben repeats nice and loudly, adjusting the seven month old little boy who is sat at his hip. "Should we get your sister?" He asks in a quiet voice which makes the little one clap his hands and giggle in agreement. "Yeah I think so too."

Even with the child in one arm, your daughter isn't quick enough to get away from him. She's still trying to pull her hand from your grasp, her feet are already trying to run but it's as though she's trying to run quickly while she's stuck moving in slow motion.

Her hand is only just out of yours when Rúben's loud yet on-purpose slow movements are behind her, sending her into a moment or two of panicked frenzy before she can escape him. His arm wraps around her waist as he pulls her from her feet within seconds and despite her best efforts to hold it in, she can't help but squeal with happiness.

Once she's at his hip, he wastes no time in crouching lower and makes a jumping motion to move her weight up to his chest, while keeping perfect control of the little boy who continues to laugh. "Daddy, no!" she cackles as he buries his face into her neck and blows air against her to make noises.

"Did she say keep going?" Rúben asks, turning to look at you with a huge smile upon his face as he handles both children with ease. Other parents are watching now, some of the other children are tugging at their parents clothing in an attempt to be picked up too. Some women hide their attention better than others, but with Rúben wearing the well fitting black shirt which shows off his biceps this well, you don't blame them for ogling him.

"I think she did." you nod, unable to keep your own smile from taking hold.

"I didn-" she's unable to finish before she's laughing again.

-

this is probably awful. i'm so sorry.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

S‼️‼️‼️‼️

I swear to fuck, I was in class when I saw the photos of Chris, and I NEARLY CHOKED ON MY WATER BECAUSE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Fuck, he’d be such a good boy. I know I haven’t screamed into the void about puppy!Chris for a while now, but…..

It’s been too long since they’ve done this. But here Chris is, sitting on the plush rug, perfect posture. His glasses are still on, cutely coupled with the black lace of the lingerie set. To top it all off, there’s the heavy weight of his dark blue collar. The silver buckles and accents are cold on his skin, the only thing keeping him grounded and not spiraling into the sweet plane of subspace.

He hears the door to his hotel room unlock, and he perks up. Sebastian walks through the door, still wearing the nice black suit from whatever he came here from. He pays Chris little mind as he shrugs off his jacket, sighing off the weight of the day. Chris desperately wants to crawl over like he knows Sir loves, nuzzling his head into Seb’s thighs and welcoming him home. But he hasn’t been given permission. And Chris is nothing if not a good boy. Finally, Sir looks over at him with a gentle smile.

“Hey, pup. How’s my good boy been?”

Chris just whines, squirming but staying where he is. Sebastian walks over to him, kneeling down to be eye level with him.

“Have you been good, puppy?” He asks, and Chris nods wildly.

“Good boy. You can move now.”

As soon as the words are spoken, Chris falls forward and buries his head into the nape of Sir’s neck, crawling into Sir’s lap. He makes himself as small as he can, and Sir just coos and pulls him close.

“Aw, poor puppy. You’re so needy, baby. Can you tell Sir what you want?” His Sir is so good to him, so kind, knowing just what he needs. Unfortunately, Chris has lost the ability to form coherent words.

“Mfgh….” He grinds into Sir’s soft thigh, almost panting from how good it feels.

“Oh, my puppy needs some help, doesn’t he? It’s okay, sweet angel, Sir’s gonna help you.” Chris nearly sobs from his words, needing him so much.

Chris’s mouth is stuffed with fingers, and he’s taken out of the lacy panties. Sir grabs his hips and slowly starts to move them along Sir’s thighs. It feels like heaven. Chris gasps around the fingers, sucking them diligently. He loves Sir’s fingers. They’re long and thick, perfect to fill his mouth when it gets useless.

As he’s being moved, he’s quickly coming undone at the seams, especially with the filthy words that are being whispered into his ear.

“Such a big guy, all strong. But you’re just a silly little puppy, aren’t you? Just a dumb little thing who can’t help but whine and cry when he gets needy. But it’s okay, because you’ve got me here to help you. I’m not gonna let my little puppy down.”

“Sir- P-Please, Sir, wanna… uhhhh..” Chris can’t fucking think. Fuck, it just feels too good.

“Cum, puppy. Cum for me.”

He does, gasping and squirming and begging.

Jesus that got a lot longer than I was planning. Oh well :D

related (I'm pretty sure, lol) to this, with an extra example for fun

Oh my goddddd

This would he exactly what Chris would need after such a big, important day on Capital Hill. He needs to relax. He needs to let go. He almost wants to take his glasses off to have the world go fuzzy and unfocused, but Sebastian likes his glasses. Sebastian didn't tell him to take his glasses off, so they're not off. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that Sebastian is here and talking to him and touching him and, fuck, he doesn't need anything else.

All he can focus on is how he's presenting himself, complete with all but ribbons and bows, hardly containing the eager way he aches to squirm and pant. So ready.

The whining

The lace

The collar

The 🤌🏻thigh humping🤌🏻

Christ

As always, thank you for these thoughts 😮‍💨😮‍💨

[sanjisblackasswife]

Hey Tate how do you feel about Buggy The Clown w/ a black s/o? Spicy headcannons are welcomed😮‍💨

A/N: Buggy w a ponytail made me feel things so yes…yes indeed I will post about it.

Buggy with a Black Girlfriend Headcanons (SFW & NSFW)

SFW

He found you so attractive when he saw you pls

He has never seen a woman like you and wants you on his team asap

I’m sorry but he seems like the type to call you “Exotic Looking” KSBDJDKSKSJS

HE MEANS NO HARM I SWEAR

He lets you braid his hair a lot. He seen you put in box braids on yourself once and has asked for it as well but you just gave him two braids going back

He actually looked kinda hot

Omg can someone draw that pls or else I will

He calls you sweetcheeks or darling a lot

He annoys the absolute daylights out of you. lIKE A WHOLE LOT HE ANNOYS YOU ALOT

When he is bored he plays in your curls/braids/locs ALOT trying to style it

He pokes you ALOT too

He just really loves annoying you

You actually never called his nose big because you know how he gets but you keep it in the back of your mind just in case he really pisses you off

A cute little quirk about him is that he always tries to find ways to impress you just like when he first met you.

He has told you about Shanks and his hate for him but honestly you thought he was talking about his ex

You thought he was gay for a second before you two dated but he swore up and down he wasn’t because he was act trying to confess to you

“I’m only gay for you!”

“But I’m a woman”

“THATS NOT THE POINT!”

When Mihawk or Crocodile is around all three of y’all bully Buggy and a few times you three played Mr. Potato with his body because he made you mad.

“So can I detach Your penis and put it on your head?”

“WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO DO THAT?!”

“Because you’re a dickhead.”

Crocodile: I like her.

Anyways though he loves talking to you. He doesn’t even care if you respond or not as long as he knows you’re listening to him rant or just speak whatever is on his mind he loves talking to you

He loves hearing about your culture or religion too. If you embrace it he will have dumb little questions about it but never disrespect you or make you feel ashamed in what you believe in

You make him carry you a lot. A whole lot.

He hates it at first but once you tell him about how strong he is he’ll do whatever you want and more

He wants you to wear clown paint very badly at least once

He has blown up buildings out of anger because you made him mad.

NSFW

Okay the first time Buggy went down on your He accidentally but your clit REALLY hard so you grabbed his head, detached it, and threw it across the room.

You didn’t talk to him for a week

Buggy tries he really tries to be romantic. He has asked Mihawk for advice but it went horribly and ended the night with you aiding to his burn wounds because a candle fell on him during dinner

When he gets needy he pokes your ass a lot

He’s really good with his fingers? He swears he doesn’t know what he is doing when he fingers you but your don’t care nor complain

He has a playlist when he wants to fuck you.

Usually has a rose in his mouth.

And no he will not stop

PULL HIS HAIR

He won’t openly tell you what he wants but trust pulling his hair is one of em

He likes a dom woman :( he loves you being on top and doing whatever you want to his body

He loves having his neck kissed. He’s just so sensitive there

His favorite position is 69. He loves your ass

Btw he is an ass man

It took a while for him to open up to you for sex but he made up for it with his amazing stroke game. You don’t know wtf he learned his loves from but you’re grateful for it

Buggy’s dream is to have sex with you on a pile of money…you really don’t know why and he won’t elaborate further but he just wants to