#i hope u don’t mind that i picked these outfits

[ivanscarf]

secret santa for @sidabro !

[reidsworld]

Patience Wears Thin

Summary: Logan’s flirty behaviour has you thinking he’s just being sarcastic. But when his attitude changes and his grumpiness intensifies, leading to him avoiding you, you confront him, only for him to finally snap. Based on this request.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Reader’s oblivious, mild language, sexual tension, slight jealous!logan, making out, hickeys, oral sex(m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, (semi) public sex (you’ll see what I mean), no use of Y/N, pet names (darlin’) — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!

Word Count: 2.9k

Mars speaks… It's been a while since I’ve posted but here we are!! Thank you for the request, this was kinda tough for me to write and didn’t really turn out how I wanted it but I hope it meets your expectations! The reader is a mutant but her powers aren’t specified. Any and all feedback is always appreciated!

Masterlist

You were used to Logan’s gruffness, but lately, something had changed. At first, it was little things—him hanging around more often, offering to help with tasks that didn’t need his strength, or staying close by even when you were just making coffee. You noticed the way his hand would brush against yours when passing you something or how he’d rest his hand on your shoulder a little longer than necessary. Despite all of his actions, he was still cold around you, seemingly never able to escape his own grumpiness.

One evening, as you were getting ready for a date, Logan wandered by your room. His mood was clearly off as he knocked leaned against your door frame, his eyes closed and head tilted down. When you greeted him, he slowly looked you up and down. His expression shifted from frustration to shock as he took in how stunning you looked.

“Damn,” Logan said, his voice cold and deep, if you didn’t know him, you would’ve sworn he hated you. “You look incredible. Got a big night planned?”

You glanced up from the mirror, surprised by his comments. “Oh, I have a date tonight,” you replied with a smile, still adjusting your dress.

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly as he processed your words. “A date, huh?”

“Yep,” you said, focusing on your reflection. “I’m just trying to pick the right outfit.”

He pushed himself off the door frame, his gaze still fixed on you. “You don’t need to be worried about impressing anyone tonight, darlin’. Trust me, you look incredible.”

You laughed, thinking he was just being his usual flirtatious self. “Thanks, Logan. But it’s just dinner. Nothing too serious.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he took a step back, his demeanour now distant. “Right. Well, have fun.”

You smiled at him, not noticing the shift in his attitude. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

As you left for your date, Logan watched you go, his face a mask of frustration and disappointment. The knowledge that you were going out with someone else hit him hard, and his mood darkened.

You were left puzzled by his sudden change in behaviour. However, in Logan’s mind, if you were going out with someone else, you clearly didn’t want him, so why should he put effort into a losing game?

But you didn’t think much of his compliments, chalking it up to Logan trying to be supportive. Until one day, you noticed something different—he started avoiding you.

It began with him skipping out on the usual training sessions you shared. Then, he stopped joining you for movie nights in the common room, always coming up with a vague excuse that didn’t make sense. He’d disappear for hours, not even leaving a trace of his familiar scent behind. The final straw was when he didn’t show up for your breakfast dates (well… that’s what they were to him), a ritual he never missed. It was confusing, and you couldn’t figure out what had changed.

You asked him once, in passing, if something was wrong. His answer was clipped, dismissive. “Nothin’ for you to worry about, darlin’.”

But you were worried. His behaviour was off, and no matter how much you replayed your interactions in your mind, you couldn’t pinpoint what had triggered this sudden shift.

A few days later, you walked into the kitchen to find Logan grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Relief washed over you—this was the first time you’d seen him in days without him immediately bolting. But when you greeted him, he barely grunted in response, not meeting your eyes.

“Logan, seriously,” you said, trying to sound casual but unable to keep the concern out of your voice. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me.”

His jaw clenched, and he didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the bottle in his hand. “Just been busy.”

“Busy?” You frowned, crossing your arms. “Too busy to even say hello?”

He looked up at you then, his eyes hard. “Yeah, busy. I don’t have time for games, alright?”

“Games?” you echoed, thrown off by the accusation. “What are you talking about? I’m not playing any games, Logan.”

He let out a frustrated huff, shaking his head as he pushed past you, brushing your shoulder as he went. “Forget it.”

That was it? He was clearly upset, but he wouldn’t talk to you about it. It didn’t make sense. You stood there, staring at the spot where he’d just been, confusion and hurt swirling inside you. Logan was the last person you expected to act like this—especially toward you.

A few more days passed, and the tension between you only grew. Logan’s avoidance became more blatant, and every time you tried to approach him, he’d find a way to leave before you could say anything. You started to wonder if you’d done something to upset him, but every time you asked, he brushed you off with a noncommittal grunt or a sarcastic remark.

It was driving you crazy.

Now you were sitting alone in the common room, you and Logan somehow being the only two in the mansion with everyone else out on various missions and overnight school trips. As you attempted to watch a movie to take your mind off things, Logan’s absence gnawed at you. He was always here for movie nights, even if he’d just sit silently in the corner. The emptiness of his usual spot was glaring, a constant reminder that something had shifted between you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to confront him, to find out what the hell was going on.

When you walked into the gym, your eyes immediately found Logan, his muscular form sitting on a raised bench, sweat glistening on his skin. He didn’t acknowledge your presence, focusing on his workout with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

“Logan,” you called out, your voice firmer than you felt.

He paused, setting the dumbbells down with a heavy thud before finally looking at you. “What?”

“What is your problem?” you demanded, stepping closer, not giving him a chance to escape this time. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague, and I want to know why.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat off his face. “Maybe I’m just tired of tryin’,” he muttered, his voice low.

“Trying what?” You crossed your arms, frustration boiling over. “Logan, you’re not making any sense. You’ve been acting like I did something wrong, but I don’t even know what that is!”

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite place—anger, maybe? But there was something else too, something deeper that made your heart race.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he growled, stepping closer to you, his presence overwhelming.

“Get what?” you shot back, refusing to back down even though his proximity was making it hard to think straight.

Logan huffed, his hand running through his hair in a rare display of frustration. “I’ve been tryin’ to show you, but you’re too damn blind to see it.”

“Show me what?” You were at your wit’s end, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

His eyes bore into yours, intense and unyielding. “That I want you, darlin’. I’ve wanted you for a long damn time, and I’m sick of you not seein’ it.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence. This was the last thing you expected him to say. Logan—gruff, no-nonsense Logan—wanted you? The thought was so far from anything you’d ever imagined that you couldn’t even process it.

“You…you want me?” you finally managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the frustration in his eyes palpable. “I’ve been tryin’ to show ya, but you keep thinkin’ I’m just bein’ a grumpy bastard.”

You blinked, completely floored by his confession. “Logan, I…I didn’t know. I thought…”

“Thought I was messin’ with ya?” he finished for you, his voice rough, almost bitter. “That’s why I’ve been avoidin’ ya—figured if you couldn’t see it by now, I was just wastin’ my time.”

The weight of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t seen it, not because you didn’t want to, but because the idea that Logan could feel that way about you seemed impossible. And now, standing here, with him staring at you like you were the only person in the world, you realised how wrong you’d been.

“Logan, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. “I didn’t know. I never thought…”

“Don’t apologise,” he cut you off, his voice softer now, but still edged with frustration. “I’m just done waitin’, darlin’. I can’t keep doin’ this—dancin’ around it, hopin’ you’ll figure it out.”

You took a shaky breath, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to think. “What do you want, Logan?”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a way that made your knees weak. “You, darlin’. I’ve always wanted you.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and demanding, as if he was trying to make up for all the time lost in that one kiss. The force of it stole your breath, your hands automatically reaching up to clutch his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

Logan’s grip on you tightened, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing your lips until you parted them, letting him in. The taste of him—smoke, whiskey, and something unmistakably Logan—filled your senses, making your head spin.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breathing ragged, his pupils blown wide with desire. “Still think I’m jokin’?”

You shook your head, your heart racing, your thoughts scattered. “No,” you breathed out.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours before he started kissing his way down your jaw, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “’Cause I’m gonna show you exactly how much I want you.”

His mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin before he bit down gently, making you gasp. Your hands fisted in his shirt, needing something to hold on to as his hands moved to your thighs, lifting you and moving to sit on the bench. Your legs desperately straddled him, pulling him closer.

Logan’s hands were everywhere—sliding under your shirt, tracing the curve of your waist, skimming up your ribs, his touch igniting a fire in you that you hadn’t realised was there. He was careful, almost reverent, despite the rough edge to his movements, as if he was holding himself back from completely losing control.

When his hands found your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric of your bra, you arched into him, a whimper escaping your lips. He growled, the sound low and primal, as his mouth found yours again, his kiss fierce and demanding.

You could feel the hardness of him pressing against your core, the friction sending waves of pleasure through you, and you couldn’t help but rock your hips against him, seeking more.

Logan’s response was immediate, his hands gripping your hips as you ground against him, his mouth devouring yours as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You were lost in the sensation, in the heat and the intensity of him, and it was all you could do to hold on.

Just when you thought you might lose yourself completely, Logan pulled back, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild as he looked up at you. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, his voice strained, as if it was taking everything in him to hold back. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

But the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. You shook your head, your voice breathless as you whispered, “Don’t stop.”

Logan let out a low, feral sound, his lips crashing against yours again as he ripped off your shirt. His patience had worn thin, and now there was no turning back. As your lips roughly moulded together, tongues battling for dominance, your hands slid under his tank-top, brushing over his abs. You pulled away, taking off his shirt, jaw dropping at the sight of his glistening body from the sweat of his workout.

“Holy shit, you should be shirtless more often…”

He didn’t respond, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss. Your hands trailed down his chest, fingers sliding down his happy trail. Climbing off him, you dropped down to your knees in front of him. He raised his hips as you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, his dick springing out and slapping against his stomach.

You didn’t give him time to process what was happening as you immediately licked a stripe up his dick before taking the head into your mouth, tongue brushing against the tip, making him throw his head back against the bench and groan.

Your hands gently massaged his balls as your mouth focused on the head of his cock, gently sucking as his hand moved to gather your hair into a make-shift ponytail. You lowered your head, taking more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks.

Looking up through your lashes, your eyes met with his while you began to move your head up and down faster, your hands touching whatever couldn’t fit into your mouth. You continued this until your jaw was aching and his dick was twitching in your mouth.

He began to gently thrust into your mouth, making you gag as he hit the back of your throat. One of your hands slid down into your shorts, rubbing your clit before pushing a finger into your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, so good darlin’,” he grunted as you moaned around him, slipping another finger into yourself.

“If you don’t stop now, m’gonna cum, wanna feel you ‘round me.”

He pulled you off of him, revelling in your dishevelled appearance. You stood up, and pulled off your shorts and panties. You reached behind you, unclipping your bra, letting it slide off your body. His eyes trailed up and down your body admiring you. You bit your lip at the way his eyes shined with something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you never wanted him to stop looking at you like that.

You silently moved to straddle him, pulling him into a slow kiss as your bare core grinded against his cock. One of his hands wrapped around you, trailing up and down your back as you both sat there, grinding against each other. His other hand reached down and grabbed your hip.

You raised your hips as you reached for his cock, positioning at your entrance before slowly sinking down onto him. You leaned forward and he fell back against the bench and buried your face in his neck, letting out a simultaneous moan as you stretched around him. You stayed still, adjusting to his size, panting into his neck, making him harder than he thought possible.

Once you were ready, you slowly raised your hips before sinking back down onto him. His hands moved to grip your hips as you began to ride him, gently helping you. You kissed him roughly, moaning into his mouth as his hips thrust up to meet yours.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the loud moans and groans coming out of your mouths. In that moment, neither of you cared where you were— that there was a chance someone could easily walk in on you even though it was just the two of you in the mansion. All you two cared about was the feeling of him inside of you and how you wrapped so tightly around him.

He let out a rough groan as your lips met his neck, biting into it when his hips met yours. Bouncing on his dick, you clenched around him, making him let out an almost feral sound.

“Oh fuck don’t stop, wrapped so tightly ‘round me, s’like you were made for me.”

“‘M all yours, Lo.”

“Shoulda never avoided you, shoulda just manned up and kissed you, ‘stead of waiting ‘round for you to realise that I want you.”

If you weren’t so desperate for him, you would’ve laughed but all you could do was moan and nod into his neck.

“‘M gonna cum, Lo.”

“Give it to me, darlin’.”

His hand reached to roughly circle your clit, sending you over the edge. You moaned out as a feeling of ecstasy overcame you and your vision went white. Your body slumped against his but his thrusts were relentless. As they got sloppier, you could feel his dick twitch inside of you, making you moan.

“I’m so close, need to cum inside you.”

His mouth pressed against your neck, marking you like a blank canvas for everyone to see later. He pounded up into you, his hand still rubbing your clit causing you to cum for a second time. You tightened around him, making him shoot his cum deep inside you.

His thrusts slowed, fucking you through it as you both panted, trying to catch your breath. His movements came to a stop and he titled his head back, letting out a deep breath.

You raised your head, looking into his eyes and laughing,

“I can’t believe I could’ve had this so much sooner if I wasn’t so obvious.”

Mars speaks… (again) woah that got… 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

Tags… @pastelpinkflowerlife

[erwinsvow]

GOT WHAT YOU WANTED

summary: you're rafe's best friend—kelce and top's too, but there's always been something more between the two of you. neither of you will do anything about it. clearly, the solution is to become friends with benefits.

now spinning: too many nights by metro & future

word count: 11.5k

warning/tags: kook trio reader, using jj to make rafe jealous, mentions of drugs/partying, jealous/possessive rafe and reader, smut !, rafe deals coke. tysm to @zyafics for beta’ing & helping me so muchh & @inimamea for being so lovely and supportive. tysm to all the lovely anons who have been supporting and loving this concept from the start, i hope u all love this ♡ (but sorry in advance if u don’t)

truth be told, you didn’t like making rafe angry. 

it wasn’t fun for you, like other things were—watching your boys play golf while you lounged in the cart with the cold drinks, picking out a pretty outfit for the day, crashing on the couch at tannyhill with your head in rafe’s lap and feet over kelce’s legs. 

those were fun things. what you were doing now, with jj, was something borne of necessity. you’re not a mean girl. you find it tough to be mean to anyone except rafe, actually, and only because he dishes it back and you know his feelings aren’t really hurt, but right now you were being mean.

to jj that is. 

you smile at the blond boy seated next to you, the golden glow of the bonfire casting its warmth onto both of you. you laugh at another joke he makes, but only half-hearted, taking another sip of the beer he’d gotten you from the keg.

jj’s funny, he’s sweet too. it’s not his fault you wish you were seated next to your best friend instead of him, drinking a strawberry seltzer from the case that rafe keeps in the back of his truck specially for you. 

“so?” jj asks, and you turn from staring at your shoes to look up at him. he’s looking at you with a smile, a very charming smile that you could have a lot of fun with, except you’re starting to feel bad about toying with him like this. 

“so?” you repeat back, softly. he leans in a little to hear you. you feel a little warm at the action, but it could just as easily be from the fire. 

jj’s nice—and you’ve always liked nice, preferred it to almost anything. every boy you had ever introduced to your trio had been nice, though rafe hadn’t ever cared. he’d hated them from the moment he’d laid eyes on them. you wonder now when you let him seep into your mind like this, with every other thought about rafe rafe rafe. somewhere in between accepting jj’s invitation to come to the bonfire with him and getting jealous over the fact that rafe was seeing some random girl.

“you didn’t tell your other boy about this, did’ya?” you look up at jj with eyebrows knitted, puzzled.

“other.. boy?”

“cameron.” now you really flush—you certainly don’t want jj to think rafe is your other anything.

“no, no. we’re not dating. we’re just friends.”

“right, okay. you tell him about tonight?”

“no. it didn’t come up.”

“ah. got it.”

“why?” you ask, and before you can look around, jj stares into the distance, gesturing with his eyes to a blurry figure.

“nothin’. he’s just been starin’ at us since we sat down, so i figured, but-” you stand up, looking into the distance where rafe was. you can feel yourself turning green with envy, red with rage, watching him stand next to the same girl he’s been with, her looking at rafe while rafe looks at you.

you sit back down on the log, wrapping a hand around jj’s arm and pulling him down to sit beside you. from this angle, rafe can’t make out anything but your backs, and maybe the lack of any real distance between you and jj.

“sorry,” you say, sweetly, almost having regained your wrath the second you saw the two of them standing together. “he’s crazy.”

“s’okay. not news to me, princess.” jj takes a pause, and you chew your cheek, trying to decide how far you were willing to take this. “you okay?”

“yes. why wouldn’t i be?”

“well, uh, it doesn’t take a genius. even though, y’know, i am one, to know somethin’s up.” “no, jj, i promise, we’re ju-” “just friends, yeah, i got it. i mean, i don’t know what type of friends exactly, but uh, i like you. and i’ll like you even if he has a problem with it. so up to you, really.” you glance up at jj, who is being nicer to you right now than you deserve. 

and you hate it, hate every second of it. you hate how rafe makes you feel, how angry and jealous you get, the fact that you even started talking to jj when in the back of your mind you knew it was because rafe would get upset over it.

but you also hate what rafe’s doing, the girl he’s with and the way he’s with her, the fact that he brought her here and still won’t stop shooting daggers into jj’s head. in short, you hate all of it. 

you lean in, resting your head against jj’s shoulder. 

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s going on with him. but, he’s here with a girl.”

“and you’re here with me.” jj wraps an arm around you. 

“yes, but not because-well, i don’t know.” it feels stupid coming out, but if jj thinks that, he doesn’t show any signs of it.

“s’okay. don’t always have to know.” you keep your head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth he brings. “by the way, he’s still watching.” you smile, though you can’t tell which boy elicited it. “i mean, not gonna complain if i get to be your boy toy for a little but, nice to know you care-” you giggle, pulling away to put your drink on the sandy ground.

“you’re telling me you don’t want a sugar mama?” he laughs at your words and you relish in it. 

it could be picture perfect—waves crashing in the back, the fire flickering in front of you, stars sparkling above. jj keeps his hand on your cheek and leans in for a kiss, and you find yourself leaning too, when the voice of your best friend breaks the silence. you pull away from jj to look up at rafe standing behind you.

“hey. we’re goin’. c’mon.”

“rafe-” you start, but you get interrupted. jj stands, facing rafe.

“hey buddy, we’re a little busy. but uh, i’ll make sure she gets home safe-”

“guys-”

“wasn’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you, pogue-”

“tuck her into bed, and everything. don’t worry your little head ‘bout it-”

“m’gonna knock your little head out if you don’t get the fuck away from-” having heard enough, you drag rafe away by his arm, your pretty nails digging in harshly.

“what the fuck was that, rafe?” you ask, though you feel the bitterness coursing through your veins. how’s that fair—that he parades his girlfriend around you, at the club and here at the bonfire, but you can’t so much as spend a moment alone with jj. 

whatever reservations you had just held about using jj to make rafe jealous seem to have gone far away. instead you’re just angry—he wants his own girlfriend and he wants you without a boyfriend too. you turn to look back at the boy you left behind at the fire. jj gives you a thumbs up.

“how many times do i have to fuckin’ tell you to-to stay away from that pogue-”

“he has a name,” you counter, so defensive because jj was being nice to you even when he didn’t have to be, helping you even with no gain for himself. “and you can’t order me around, okay? you brought a girl here but i can’t talk to jayj? how does that make any sense?”

“stop yellin’,” he barks, grabbing you by the arm now, and guiding you away.

“why? afraid someone might hear us? like your little girlfriend? where’d she go, by the way, i bet she’s missing you right about now-”

“shut up. shut it.” you don’t realize how far rafe’s dragged you until you shake out of his tight grip, standing next to his truck on the street.

“i’m sick of this rafe.” it comes out quieter than you intend, tears prickling up. you hate crying, especially infront of the boys but even more so infront of rafe. “i’m not stopping my life and boys that i wanna see, and relationships i want to have because you’re not okay with it. not when you have your own girlfriend. it’s not fair.” 

“i don’t. i don’t have a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes, he watches it happen with a tight fist, jaw clenching.

“yes, you do.”

“no, i don’t.”

“you don’t?” you question, unbelieving. “you just.. walk around with the same girl for weeks. take her everywhere. but she’s not your girlfriend?” you’re snarky like always—you still don’t know if he likes it or not.

“no, she’s not.” 

“bullshit. at least get your fucking story straight, rafe. that girl’s probably half in love with you-” “m’not dating her. and if it bothered you so much how come you didn’t say something, huh? you pull this shit with fuckin’ maybank instead?”

“i’m not pulling anything with jj.” you lie through your teeth, hoping rafe bites. “i-i like him.”

“no you fuckin’ don’t.”

“who are you to tell me-”

“you don’t like him. what you like is makin’ me fuckin’ angry. well, it worked. stay the fuck away from him. and get in the goddamn truck.”

you groan loudly, the noise almost a scream and filling the quiet street. but you comply, getting into the passenger seat and letting rafe drive you home—to your house, not tannyhill like every other night. when he pulls up to your house, you resist the urge to get out without saying anything at all.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” you sigh, looking back up at rafe.

“that’s it? you’ll see me tomorrow?”

“what else do you want me to say, huh?”

“are you just gonna ignore all of that? what the hell was that?”

“m’not ignoring anything-”

“so, i can’t see jj anymore. are you still seeing her? who am i allowed to date then? kelce? top? do you have a pre-approved list for me?”

“shut up.”

“rafe,” you sound serious, as serious as he’s ever heard you, shifting in your seat to look right at him. he looks back, his knuckles white on the steering wheel at the mention of you dating kelce or top or anyone. “i’m not gonna stay single forever. i know your alpha-male tendencies don’t agree with it, but girls have needs too. i want-”

“what? what do you want?”

“the possibility of getting laid without you screaming at every boy i talk to would be nice.”

“don’t talk like that.”

“rafe.” 

exasperated, you unlock the door and climb out, not turning back to say goodnight. the last twelve hours seem like a blur, between texting jj and actually seeing him and rafe’s reaction to it. you’re not sure what kind of reaction you really wanted out of him, but you’re not happy with the one you got. you don’t know what, if anything, would have pleased you. 

that night, you go to bed angry and wake up sad. jj texted you something but you can’t find the heart to look at his message yet. 

you’re sure the boys have something planned for today, like they always do, but the idea of opening the groupchat to look at what they decided on makes you feel sick. so you stay home instead, showering off yesterday’s anger and wondering why rafe thinks you don’t deserve to have a boy in your life to fool around with, to date, to do anything with. 

the answer, sharp and painful like the jagged end of a piece of glass, hovers in your mind. you try to push it away.

rafe’s wrong—like always. you really don’t like making him angry, like it even less that your routine is disrupted and that for the first time in a long time, you don’t want to see your best friends today. brushing your hair, the sound of your bedroom door opening snaps you out of your thoughts.

“c’mon kid. get dressed. top’s got tee time at two and we booked lunch before.” you turn to look at rafe but don’t budge. he takes a look at you—dressed in one of his old frat shirts and plaid shorts that barely peak out. 

you look pretty all the time but it feels the worst, the hardest to deal with, when it’s just the two of you alone like this, none of the shit that you do for other people, for outside the house—the makeup, the hair, the nice clothes. when you’re pretty like this it’s just for him, since no one else gets to see you, no one but him. you probably didn’t even notice you were wearing one of his shirts—something that leaves him feeling more pleased than he should be. but like always, he’s not gonna tell you any of that.

“are you adding deaf to stupid?” he asks, and you roll your eyes, letting out an irritated huff.

“i’m not coming. go away.” you turn around on your vanity chair to face your mirror, continuing brushing your hair. rafe walks up behind you, staring at you in the mirror.

“c’mon. lunch is at the place you like. i’ll even talk to you when kelce and top are up.”

“is that your way of apologizing?”

“it’s not an apology.”

“of course it’s not. why would you say sorry? you probably don’t think you did anything wrong.”

“i didn’t.”

“mm-hm. when does rafe cameron ever do anything wrong?” you keep brushing your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror instead of at him. “psycho.”

rafe yanks the brush from your hand, spinning your chair around to face him. he boxes you in, his hands resting on the armrests. he’s too close to you, it makes his head spin. you wish he’d stop, you know he’s not going to. you watch with bated breath, wondering what’s coming next.

“i… didn’t mean to make you upset.” you keep staring up at rafe, blinking fast. “and i didn’t see it from your side. so, m’sorry. about that part. nothin’ else.” you can’t help the slow smile that grows on your face—rafe, apologizing, and to you of all people. you thought you’d never see the day.

“thanks rafe.”

“alright. get ready. truck’s still runnin’.” he pulls himself upright, freeing you of the restraint. you can hear the bass of the music in his car, the future song audible from your open window. 

“that’s bad for the environment. and i didn’t say i forgave you.” snatching the hairbrush back, you resume your motions. you hear rafe groan and it’s hard to hold back the smile. maybe you did like making him angry.

“kid.” 

“what? i heard your apology, and i don’t accept it. hope you girls have fun at golf-” rafe leans back in, holding your jaw shut between his fingers.

“do you ever shut up?” you shake your head from your position, though you can’t really move. “what’s it gonna take, huh? you want my permission to fuck ‘round? sleep with some, some fuckin’ nobody? some pogue? tough shit. you’re not gettin’ it.” he lets you go, and you rub your jaw tenderly.

“but you get to do it?” 

“that’s different-”

“no it’s not! you’re just a dick. and sexist. who am i supposed to sleep with, then?” you shoot back.

“i don’t fuckin’ know, kid. me, i guess. at this point-”

“ha-ha funny. you’re an-” when you finally get up and look at him, he’s staring at you. “what?”

“yeah. that’s fine.” he shrugs, like he’s just decided something trivial, like what to order at lunch or which iron to use. “you can sleep with me.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. yeah, it’s a good solution. that way you can stay the fuck away from maybank and any other asshole.”

“rafe. shut up.”

“think about it,” he says, and you fall silent to listen, though this is the worst idea  you’ve ever heard in your life. “you get what you want. i get what i want. it works out.”

“how is being your pity-fuck remotely close to what i want?”

“sheesh, kid m’tryna help you right now. offerin’ you a solution-”

“rafe?” “yeah?”

“get out.” you walk over the door, swining it open and waiting for him to step out.

“just think ‘bout it,” rafe says, standing by the door but not leaving just yet. “alright?”

“goodbye, rafe.” 

you listen to the sounds—him walking down the staircase, the front door closing, his truck taking off. after you’re sure he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding inside.

sleeping with rafe had been nothing more than a drunken thought that occasionally slipped into your mind when he’d be nice to you after some party. curling up next to him at tannyhill every other night certainly didn’t help, but that’s all it was—a thought, not reality. 

then you wonder if it’s really such a bad idea. maybe if you just got out all of this pent up energy with rafe, and then worked on finding someone he actually approved of, it would be easier for both of you. 

key word: maybe.

the idea that he’s still seeing that girl, the one he keeps denying is his girlfriend, makes you want to puke. he’d have to stop that, that would be part of your agreement. 

maybe rafe’s right, maybe you both get what you want out of this, as messed up as it seems. it can’t be the worst idea in the world—kelce and top always joke the two of you are half a couple already.

you go to your closet to pick out an outfit for golf, hoping you weren’t about to ruin your friendship with your best friend.

.☘︎ ݁˖

rafe’s leaning against the bar at the club when you find him. you think he’s got a weird sixth sense, he always knows when you’re around, and he looks up before you’re even near him. 

“i knew you wouldn’t pass on lunch. top owes me five bucks.”

“yeah. sure.” you put a hand on the counter to steady yourself—this is harder than you thought it would be. rafe takes a sip of his drink. you want to chastise him, tell him it’s only twelve-thirty and too early for drinking, but nothing comes out. your mouth feels dry and you almost want to chug the rest of his scotch. surprisingly, you refrain.

“what?” rafe asks, and you glance up at him, eyes locked.

“i thought about what you said this morning. what you offered.”

“and?” the bastard looks so smug. you should the slap the smirk off his face but you know what he’s thinking—proud of coming up with the idea himself, thinking he’s doing such a service.

“and.. better the devil you know and all that.” you wait for the other shoe to drop for a moment, for rafe to admit it was all a big prank and you fell for it, and now the boys owe him money or something.

“good. i agree. so should we get outta here, or what?”

“right now?” you question, eyes widening. “what about tee time?”

“you’re the only who’s so horny you’re on the verge of jumping pogues. m’just tryna help you-”

“shut up!”your face heats, looking around to make sure no one heard him. “by the way, between the two of us you’re the only one jumping pogues.”

“yeah, yeah. so not now, then?”

“a gentlemen as always, rafe. no, really, thank you, for showing me chivalry’s not dead.” you roll your eyes again, staring ahead at the bottles behind the bar. you don’t want to turn and look at rafe again, but you do.

“at this rate m’gonna have to show you what friends with benefits means too.”

“shut up.” it comes out like a hiss this time, narrowed eyes focusing in on your best friend and apparently, new fuck buddy.

“yeah, yeah. they’re at the table near the window.” 

“thanks.” you walk in that direction, catching a glimpse of top and kelce, but your feet pause for a moment. you stay still, but glance back at rafe.

he’s not leaning against the bar anymore—he’s facing you, staring at you. blue eyes rake over your skin top to bottom, focusing on the pretty sandals and polished white toes, smooth lotioned skin, your short white skirt and tight golf shirt, with one too many buttons popped. 

when you’re talking without ever shutting up, it’s hard for him to focus on anything but your glossy lips or long eyelashes fluttering when you roll your eyes. but now he’s taking it in—how easily you agreed to this little idea, how you talk a big game but you don’t seem as hesitant or upset as you were this morning. 

you turn back and keep walking towards the table—rafe can tell you’re flushed. he’s fine with it, prefers it this way. anything’s better than you going on dates with strangers, showing them looks and emotions and other things that belong to him.

if you’re horny, all you had to do was tell him. downing the rest of his drink, he goes back to the table and like always, sits next to you. 

kelce and top talk about the same old shit, until they focus their attention on you. you’re being quiet, not nearly as talkative or snippy as usual, and you haven’t said a word to rafe the whole time.

“and where’d you two go off to last night?” kelce asks, pointedly looking at rafe while he asks you the question.

“you guys know you left us stranded, right? we all came together. i mean i’m not saying self-absorbed but-” topper adds, but you cut him off.

“you’re really not one to talk about self-absorbed, are you top?” you shoot back, and kelce chokes on his water. 

“easy,” rafe says, and normally you’d fire away something at him too, but this time you don’t. “we had somethin’ to take care of. but you got home didn’t you?”

“yes, but-” topper says, but rafe cuts him off again. you hold back a laugh.

“then shut up ‘bout it.”

“kelce’s mom had to pick us up. it was humiliating.” you snort into your lemonade, all four of you bursting into laughter. you turn to ask kelce a follow up question, and rafe’s staring at you while you laugh. something low in your stomach twists, like a butterfly trying to fly out and away.

when kelce and rafe start talking about the course today, topper leans in to say something to you.

“you’re getting mean. y’know that means you’re spending too much time with him.” you transfer your gaze from top to rafe, staring at the boy next to you. 

the idea of what you would normally say floats through your head—something funny and earnest but still making top feel better, not saying sorry but making him laugh instead. nothing comes to mind.

“yeah. i guess i am.”

you sit through golf, reading your book in the cart while the boys play nine holes. your phone rings with a call from your parents about an hour in, and when you step away to take it, rafe follows you. the boys protest from the distance—it must have been his turn.

“you goin’ home?” rafe questions, and you jolt at the sound, not realizing he was right behind you.

“god. you scared me.” he doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring down at you. “yes, uh, mom wants me home for something.”

“you need a ride?”

“no, i drove here, remember?” 

“oh. yeah. am i gonna see you tonight?” the words make you flush—stupidly, no matter how hard you try to fight it, knowing that they shouldn’t. the two of you are going to be terrible at this. “kid?”

“careful, rafe. you’re starting to sound like a boyfriend.” “yeah. and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

sucking in a breath, tearing your gaze away with pretty blue eyes that are looking at you like maybe that wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, you’re at a loss for words again. before all of this drama, you could count the amount of times you had been rendered speechless by rafe with no hands—since it had never happened. still with nothing to say, you turn around and start to walk away. foot steps follow you.

“hey, hey. m’joking, it’s just.. a joke. how about i come over later? and we’ll talk about it.” you spin on your heels to face him.

“talk about it? talk about what?”

“our.. arrangement. y’know talk about it..” he tilts his head stupidly and you can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him. “..fuck about it.”

“okay! that’s it. bye, rafe.” storming away, you almost wish you hadn’t heard what he called out after you.

“bye, kid. i’ll see you later.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

at ten pm that night, freshly showered and somehow in another one of rafe’s shirts, you were back to where you were this morning—brushing your hair. rafe doesn’t knock on your door, just barges in.

“oh my god-”

“hello to you too.” he steps in, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on your bed. you spin on your chair to face him.

“how the hell do you keep getting in here?”

“what? your mom let me in.”

“you didn’t even text-”

“i told you at the club. you have selective memory, kid.” he looks you over again. “nice shirt.”

“oh shut up.” you turn away for a moment, setting the hairbrush down, biting your cheek. “so?”

“so?” he repeats. he’s smiling, you can just tell.

“aren’t we gonna talk about our arrangement? that’s what you told me at the club-” you finish in a mocking voice.

“what else is there to talk about? you wanna get laid, i don’t wanna see you with random guys.”

“i still don’t understand what’s wrong with the guys that i-” rafe cuts you off, and he sounds angry.

“of course you don’t understand. you don’t have’t think about this shit, because i think about it for you. what’d you gonna do when some guy starts sleepin’ with you ‘cause me and top pissed him off once? or one of those pogues, huh? to get back at us? take some video of you and send it to everyone? brag and show it off to everyone?”

“oh.”

“exactly. so m’lookin’ out for you. this is better, trust me.” the thing rafe’s saying are making sense. you were on board anyways, but you feel better that there’s a real reason behind it.

“but what about that girl-” you ask, though you don’t know what kind of answer you’re expecting. rafe sighs.

“what about that girl?”

“are-are you gonna sleep with other people too?”

“no. m’too busy anyways. works out for both of us.”

“oh. okay. promise?”

“when have i ever lied to you?” you sigh, about to protest, when he finishes his sentence. “promise.” you feel strangely reassured, like this is a good idea.

“okay. thanks.” you dodge his gaze, playing with your manicured nails, pink this time.

“alright. get on the bed.”

“rafe-”

“what? i just said-”

“you’re not even gonna, like, take me out for dinner first?”

“who the hell d’you think paid for your lunch?”

“i don’t know.. kelce? he got lunch last week. should i go sleep with him next?”

“ha-ha. get on the bed.”

“ugh. you’re so crass. i don’t even know how you get any girls-”

“yeah, yeah. are you gonna shut up now or what?”

you can’t think of anything to say, so you finally follow his instructions, crawling into your bed and sitting up against your pillows to look at rafe. 

you’ve see him naked before. he’s seen you naked before. with all the time you spent together on the druthers or at the beach, you should be used to seeing him like this. he yanks off his shirt, pulling it off with a fist in the back over his head. 

the first sign that this idea wasn’t going to go as planned should have been now—feeling your breath catch in your throat at the sight in front of you. your best friend shirtless, getting closer to your bed. your eyes rake over tan, muscled skin and the silver chain glimmering around his neck. you don’t realize you moved, body sliding down and back flat against your mattress while rafe starts to lean across the bed, his hand planted next to your head.

rafe’s hovering over you. your breathing shakes for a moment, wondering if it would be this easy for him to do this with any other girl. you dismiss the thought when rafe leans in to kiss you, but it almost seems too wrong to let it happen.

“wait-” you move your head a little so your lips are away from rafe’s. “are you sure? you don’t think it’s gonna be weird?”

“stop bugging out, kid.” he says it low and quiet, and your entire body quivers from the sound.

“answer the question, asshole.” rafe laughs, his hot breath fanning across your cheek. you can’t help it, you laugh too, turning to look at him. you think he’ll be grinning like something’s funny, but your smile dies the second you lock eyes.

he’s not smiling, he looks as serious as you’ve ever seen him. he licks his lips, moving his eyes over your body, his shirt and your bare legs.

“you wearin’ anything under this?” 

he moves one of his hands from your knee to your thigh, stroking the soft skin. you curl your leg automatically, head lifting to watch his hands and your entire body trembling under his touch—it’s hot and electric, making your heart beat faster and the hairs on your arm stand up. he looks up from your legs to your face, watches you shake your head to answer no. 

“good girl.” 

your head falls back onto the pillow when the words leave his mouth. a chuckle leaves his mouth, but still he’s not smiling, it’s more just a noise of pleasure than anything else. rafe sits up between your legs, hands grabbing onto both of your legs and stroking again. he makes his way all the way to your hips, fingers dancing over the waistband of your panties. 

you think he’ll stop, maybe at least answer your earlier question, though you can’t remember what you had even asked him. he doesn’t, fingers swiftly hooking around the fabric and pulling them down your legs. you suck in another breath, angling your foot so they fall onto the bed while you keep your eyes locked on him.

“y’ready?” he asks, and you nod, though you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. his hands go back to your thighs, pushing his t-shirt up to expose more skin. you tense up, but he keeps a palm on your knee. “relax.”

before you can anticipate anything else, he strokes your pussy, which is shamefully wet already, with two fingers, prodding the sensitive skin and gathering wetness. he does that laugh again, like he can’t believe what he’s looking at, and you try to shut your trembling thighs in embarassment, but rafe holds them open.

“rafe-” but before you can finish your sentence, two thick fingers plunge inside you, “oh my god—!” 

“hah. good.” when he pushes his fingers out, just to slam them back in, your eyes roll all the way back, another loud moan emitting from your mouth, sounds he’s thought about a hundred times before but still can’t compare to the real thing. but of course, you don’t need to know any of that. “don’t get too loud. y’folks are downstairs, remember?”

you don’t seem to remember. when he picks up the pace, really just wanting to test you and see how much you could take, you start moaning even louder, sweet breathy sounds filling the room. they’re just for him, and normally he’d want you screaming, but he can’t arouse too much suspicious, or your parents won’t ever let him back in the house. his other hand, the one holding your legs open, moves to your mouth, clamping his palm over your lips to keep your noises quiet.

you must like it, you clench around his fingers and your walls flutter when he locks eyes with you, almost hunched over you to keep you quiet while still fucking his fingers—now three, though he didn’t realize when he’d added another—into you. 

rafe’s hard, and he can’t remember the last time he was patient enough to wait to get his dick wet, but he likes you like this, not just shutting up for once, but eyes shut and face twisted with pleasure, whimpering into his hand, legs shaking in his grip while you’re wet around his fingers. 

“rafe-” you mumble, the sound all muffled. “m’gonna, ohh-” he picks up the pace, shushing you while battering into your pussy, listening to the gasps and whimpers through his palm while you cum all over his hand. 

limbs like jelly and throat dry, you lay there, catching your breath. your skin’s hot and flushed, and you stare at rafe while he stares at you.

“what?” you question, and it comes out quiet, soft, like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have. he’s thinking a couple of things, some of which have no business being in his head at all. do you always get this wet? who else has seen you like this? who’s gonna get to hear you moan the way you just did for him some day?

“nothin’.” 

“oh. okay.” you sit up against your headboard, pulling your—his—shirt down to cover up a little. “well, thank you.”

“yeah. no problem.” for a second he hestiates—briefly concerned you want him to leave now. “well? come on.” you’re trying to sound like you always do, a little irritated at him, a little snarky. he can see through it this time.

“what?” 

“get the condom. you’re the one who said we’re doing it today.” rafe watches for a second, wondering if he should laugh or yell at you, when you pull off his shirt. he stares at you, not moving, wondering why he thought this would be a good idea. 

he’s seen you naked before, changing in the same room or when you two lost all boundaries and started walking into bathrooms while the other’s showering, but this seems different. propped against your headboard naked, with your cum on his fingers, asking him to get a condom. now that he’s seen you like this, he has a new life mission of making sure no one else ever gets to. 

“god, you’re such a boy.”

“shut up.” 

“you shut up. you talked such a big game and now you’re just staring at my boobs-” he moves quickly, fingers on your jaw, actually shutting you up.

“lie down.” biting your lip, you comply, sliding down so rafe was on top of you. “spread your legs.” you move to do so, but rafe uses his hands on your thighs to pull them apart before you can. you can’t look at his face, it almost feels too weird, so you decide to stare at his dick instead, watching him roll the condom on with a puzzled face.

“what?” he’s been looking at your face the whole time.

“nothing. if i had known you were this big i would’ve asked a while ago-” rafe starts laughing, a real one this time, and you burst into giggles too.

“stop-” and he gets closer to you, lining himself up with your wet cunt, “-making me laugh. shut up.”

“you’ve said shut up like thirty times but you won’t stop talking eithe-oh!” he pushes in all at once, and all the breath leaves your lungs. you gasp instead, toes curling, feeling incredibly full, the disbelief that you’re full of rafe quickly fading away. 

you should have known he’d be good at this, good enough to actually get you to shut up. he starts a slow pace, thrusting in and out and you look up to see your best friend’s face contorted with pleasure, heavy breaths in your ears and the scent of his cologne overwhelming everything. his chain dangles on your neck, tickling you, and you try to permanently engrain the feeling into your memory.

you attempt to stay quiet, though the slam of the headboard against the wall is a dead giveaway. rafe pushes all the way out and then all the way back in with another slam, and there’s nothing you can do but take it, clamping your hand over your mouth now.

he manhandles your legs into place, pressing them to your chest while he continues the exhausting pace. you can’t discern anything but rafe’s quiet groans and heavy breaths. you’ve just cum but it doesn’t take long for that hot feeling to wind up again in your stomach, toes curling and eyes getting watery. your moans are still muffled, but the way rafe’s looking at you is only making them get louder. 

your bottom lip must be bleeding from the way your teeth have been abusing it. rafe moves your hand out of the way and leans in for a hot kiss, his tongue in your mouth and swallowing all of your noises.

with a final oh god, oh god, oh god, moaned into rafe’s mouth, you cum hard around his dick, eyes pressing shut and stray tears falling down, rafe’s lips not leaving yours. 

you don’t know why—but you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping the kiss going. rafe pulls away for a moment to breathe and you open your eyes, staring up at him through wet lashes, licking your swollen lips, while he looks back down at you.

he leans in for a final kiss, groaning into your mouth while he spills into the condom, still thrusting in and out of your sore pussy. 

rafe rolls off of you, resting on your sheets beside you. you try to catch your breath.

“you didn’t last very long.” 

“and how long did it take ya to cum all over my fingers?”

“oh, whatever. where’s my shirt?”

“it’s my shirt,” rafe says back, finding the discarded clothing on the ground and tossing it on your chest. you sit up, sliding his shirt back on. rafe’s standing, pulling on his shorts.

“are you leaving?” you ask, and you regret it the second it comes out, quiet and soft like you want him to stay. 

you do want him to stay, but you don’t want him to know that you do. it all feels very complicated and your thighs are aching, your throat dry. 

“no.” he sits back down next to you, swinging an arm over your shoulder like he always does. you lean into his chest. 

“you kissed me,” you say quietly. you’re glad your face is pressed into his side, you don’t think you could handle looking at his face right now. “and you were quiet. i didn’t expect that.”

“your parents are downstairs, remember?”

“oh. i forgot.” you realize after that you don’t want him to know he fucked you so hard you forgot where you were and who was home.

“is kissing off limits?” rafe asks, and you almost choke processing the sentence. things you never thought rafe would say to you.”

“no.. it was nice.” you pause, listening to the silence of the room and the thud of rafe’s chest in your ear. you’re no expert—though you fear you’re about to become one—but it seems faster than normal. “you want ice cream? or cookies? i made some yesterday.”

“no, kid. it’s fine.” you chew your cheek nervously. you want rafe to want to stay, not just because you asked.

“you can go.. if you need to.” you look up at him and then look back down when he meets your eyes. 

“why? got nowhere else to be.”

“oh. okay.”

“turn the tv on. we’ll watch your stupid movie”

“really?” your face lights up, grabbing the remote on your nightstand. you open up the blanket at the foot of the bed, covering both of you while you try to find you’ve got mail. you go back to your position and lean against rafe’s warm body, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. it’s not unusual, he’s done it before, but you don’t miss the fact that he’s decided to do it now. you try to push away the warm feeling blooming in your chest.

“don’t ever make a joke about sleeping with kelce or top again.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

your tired muscles wake up to the sun pouring into your bedroom. the light shines on rafe’s still-asleep figure, but you knew it wouldn’t wake him up, nothing ever does. you don’t remember falling asleep, barely remember anything after rafe showing up.

and the part where you slept with your best friend.

a guilt-trip dangles on the edge, about to take over, when you push it away and focus on the text messages on your phone instead.

top: rafe can’t believe u bailed on cod. u better be dead in a ditch somewhere

kelce: maybe princess finally killed him

top: stop hanging out without us

kelce: top lets just pull up next time

you laugh, and rafe stirs at the sound. you give his arm a shove.

“you ditched playing video games for me? i’m so flattered, rafey.” 

“shut up.” he grumbles. “go back to bed. s’too early for this shit.”

“it’s nine in the morning. and i have pilates in an hour.”

rafe turns over, and you can’t deny it’s nice to have him in your bed for once—it seems like you’re always sleeping at tannyhill.

“didn’t get enough exercise last night? you need more?”

you fake a yawn, covering your mouth.

“exercise? what exercise? i don’t remember that. you mean the boring sex?”

rafe sits up, facing you. you choke back a laugh.

“you wanna say that again?”

“uhh-”

“in fact, why don’t you try and get up? ten bucks says you can’t even walk to the door.”

“i can’t believe the two of us even fit on this bed with your gigantic ego-”

“don’t see you walking. m’waiting.” you toss one of your throw pillows at him.

“get out!”

“alright. i’ll say good morning to your parents on my way-”

“okay! wait, stay.”

“s’what i thought.”

“some way to say good morning,” you mumble, scrolling through your other messages—a text from your other friends about a party tomorrow and a reminder for your pilates class.

“you woke me up.” 

“oh whatever. i was just surprised you skipped a video game for this. but i guess most boys would.”

“there’s not much i wouldn’t skip for you.” you smile at rafe, misunderstanding him.

“that’s so nice. are you saying i’m a great lay?” he rolls his eyes.

“i’m trying to- shut up. what’d they say?” he picks up his phone. 

about twenty minutes later, after checking the hallway (and that too on wobbly legs, just like the smug idiot had predicted) rafe leaves. like always, he says he’ll see you later.

you fall on your bed and dwell on the fact that rafe kissed you last night. it’s hard to focus on anything else, and with every passing second, you think this whole thing was a worse and worse idea.

but he doesn’t seem to think that way. he seemed fine. he’s better at the no-strings-attached thing than you, and you don’t think he would have suggested it if he didn’t think you could handle it. 

with that thought lingering, you get dressed for pilates and hope it’s easier to walk before you see the boys again. you find out that it’s really not. 

after your class, you check your phone, finding messages from top and kelce. game night and pizza at kelce’s house. you’re invited, of course, but you shoot them a message saying you’re staying home with your parents instead. 

the second you press send, rafe’s contact photo lights up your screen.

“rafe?” you answer it without even waiting.

“what, not comin’ tonight? you always come.”

“oh, um-” you pace around your room, trying to think of a lie on your feet. “mom and dad wanted to stay in. you know. game night.” the words feel stupid, though you hope he’ll believe it.

“okay. you gonna swing ‘round after?”

“no, probably not. um, i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“yeah, tomorrow. have fun, kid.”

“you too. tell them i say hi.”

the rest of your day flies by and it’s not long before you’re curling up in bed with a tub of ice cream. your parents went out to dinner with some friends, while you contemplated what the hell you were doing with your own friends.

you four always had a standing date on saturday mornings in the summer—snacks and a spin on the boat. if you don’t go, it’s going to be incredibly obvious something was going on with you. 

you call topper while you pack your boat bag—grabbing the necessities the boys always completely forget about; spray sunscreen, an extra baseball cap, a book for you when you inevitably get bored of listening to them talk.

“what’s up?” top says, and you’ve made your way into the kitchen, pulling out fruit to wash and cut.

“what time are we going on the boat? and i’m bringing strawberries and mangoes, is that fine?” topper is the pickiest when it comes to the fruit—kelce and rafe will eat whatever you bring.

“uh, i think noon. call rafe, we’re taking the druthers today.” crap. that’s what you were trying to avoid. it feels crazy the second you think it—trying to avoid rafe. you need to get it together. acting like some love sick girl over your best friend feels like the stupidest thing you’ve ever tried to do. he must bring it out in you. “do you have any of those oranges? the little ones?”

“i’ll bring ‘em. listen, i need to get ready, do you know the time? i’ll just meet you there.” your self-realization is going to have to wait for another day.

“noon, yeah. i’ll text it.”

“thanks top.” 

you start an internal monologue on repeat—stop being weird about it. he’s still your best friend. be normal. he is not your boyfriend. you repeat it, but still pick out the prettiest bikini you own, yellow gingham and held together entirely by straps you’ve tied into pretty bows. you throw on one of the boys’ button-ups that’s ended up in your closet somehow on top. 

walking onto the pier, you hesitate in front of the druthers. you don’t hear any of the boys, and though nothing’s stopped you from getting on and making yourself comfortable, you wait for a second.

it’s like he knows. rafe steps out from the bridge, and takes one look at you, eyes flicking up and down your body and taking in the yellow fabric that’s barely covering anything, before offering you his hand to get on. 

“hey.”

“hey.” you look around. “nice weather.”

“yeah.”

“kelce and top running late? he told me noon.”

“those two are always late.” he’s staring at you, and this time it becomes clear, that he’s looking at you the way a boy who has been inside of you looks at you.

“i packed mangoes. you liked them last time.”

“yeah, i did.”

“i just hope they’re sweet.”

“yeah. they probably are. sweet.” rafe keeps looking, and you turn around to set your bag down. “listen, kid-”

“it’s a great day. good weather.” 

“you already said that.”

“oh.”

“would you stop and look at me?”

“no, um,” you start, emptying out your bag onto one of the seats. “sorry, i’m busy.” you feel rafe grab your shoulder, turning you around. he’s not as rough as he could be, like he usually is.

“you okay?” he asks, and you feel stupid.

“i’m fine.. are you okay?”

“yeah. but you’re actin’ weird.”

“well yeah, rafe. we slept together. it’s weird.”

“you were on board-”

“i was. i am,” you clarify. surprising even to yourself, you think you still are. “doesn’t make it not weird. imagine if you and kelce slept together. wouldn’t it be weird?” rafe’s face twists into a mixture of disgust and concern. “okay. bad example. sorry.”

“yeah. m’just saying, i wanna make sure you’re okay. but i don’t regret it if that’s what you’re afraid of. and nothin’ has to change.” hearing him say it makes you feel better. you repeat the words, tasting the feel of it on your tongue.

“right. nothing’s changed. you’re still rafe. i’m still me.”

“it doesn’t have to happen again, if you don’t want it to.” you stare up at him with crossed arms.

“why are you being so nice about it?”

“jeez, kid. what, you-you want me to be a dick ‘bout it? sounds like you’d prefer that.”

“no, just. it’s weird when you’re nice.” you look at him for a second before the two of you start laughing. “y’know what i mean.”

“alright. i’ll stop being nice.”

“thank you. now where are these two? i wanna read my book.”

“probably still sleepin’. played until-” rafe keeps talking, but you realize you’re only half paying attention. he takes his shirt off, and at the very sight of his chain sparkling in the sun, you realize you’re no better than the girls who chase after him. “what?”

“hm?” a little dazed, you look up from his abs to his face.

“you’re starin’.”

“oh. you think we have enough time before they show up?”

“time for what?” rafe stares at you while you stare at him. “oh.”

turns out he thought you did have enough time. you end up with your cheek pressed against the tan sofa in the cabin, body folded with your head down and ass up. rafe’s slamming into you from behind, and though it’s only the second time with him, you think there’s no pleasure in the world comparable.

from this angle he feels even bigger than yesterday. you feel tighter, or maybe it’s just the way your cunt is sucking him in, he thinks, thrusting in and out with his hands grabbing the fat of your ass, watching it bounce with every one of his motions. he has an urge to untie your bikini top, just so he can look at the expanse of the bare skin of your back, but he knows you’ll fuss if he does. he settles for shoving the thin yellow fabric of your bottoms to the side, yanking it so hard that you’re scared it’ll rip.

“be—oh—careful,” you get out in between moans, louder than the first time and louder still than he thought you’d be. he likes it more than he should. you already came once, but he wants to see if he can get another out of you.

“shut up,” rafe groans, eyes fixated on your perky ass, the one he’s stared at in hundreds of short dresses and tiny skirts, bikinis that he shouldn’t let you wear and panties he gets an eyeful of when you’re asleep in his bed. “jus’ take it-”

you keep moaning against the couch, head shoved in to muffle what you can, but it’s when you look back at him, turning your head to watch rafe slam into you with wet, lustful eyes, tired from how hard he had just made you cum, that he really can’t take it, finishing hard and fast while you let out pretty mewls that are still ringing in his ear. 

he pulls out, adjusting your bikini bottoms to cover you up, though there’s visible wetness staining them. your inner thighs are shiny where your juices glisten. rafe has to tear his eyes away, you keep your legs clamped shut.

“you okay?” he asks, trying to catch his breath. you don’t speak, just nod. “c’mon.” rafe offers you a hand, again, and you accept, following him outside and into the sun, even though you’re so tired you could fall asleep where you were.

“thanks.” you say, wiping your neck of the sweat that has collected there. he watches you do it. “sorry, i don’t have a tip or anything. how about some fruit instead? call it even?” “shut up, kid. m’not a hooker, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

“no, of course not,” you gasp, like you’d never suggest such a thing. “the correct term is escort, rafe. it’s all very american gigolo.”

“you watch too many movies.” but you still hear him laugh when the two of you step onto the deck. 

“what’s so funny?” you hear top’s voice, freezing up. you catch rafe’s eye, before looking away

“nothin’, man-” rafe starts, but you start talking over him.

“just debatin’ how long it would take you idiots to get ready. got enough gel there, top?” rafe and kelce laugh while topper narrows his eyes at you.

your days are on the boat are always fun—the boys steer while you enjoy the breeze and the sun. you pass the fruit around and read your book—another romance beach read, of course. this one’s about two best friends falling in love. you can’t find the will to keep reading.

you tune in a conversation about a party tonight.

“are we going?” you ask, looking expectantly at the three boys in front of you.

“yeah. why wouldn’t we?” kelce says. you shift your gaze to rafe, who gestures to your thighs with his eyes. you clamp your legs shut, flushing.

“fun. what time?”

.☘︎ ݁˖

finding a little hard to walk straight after your little tryst on the boat, you switch your heeled sandals for a pair of sneakers for tonight. you smooth out your pretty blue dress in the back of top’s jeep. him and kelce are in the front, you and rafe in the back, pulling up to whichever family that was off-island’s mansion for the evening. the music was blaring, audible from even down the street, with two boys carring a keg into the house while top parked.

“are they celebrating something?” you question, staring at the crowds of people inside.

“yeah. the fact that it’s saturday night,” kelce answers, and you shove the back of his head from the backseat. 

you hear rafe and top talking about something, though you can’t make it out. yesterday you thought, dreading when the boys swung by your house to get you, that it would be awkward to sit next to rafe and act like nothing had happened. surprisingly after the conversation this morning, you find that it’s not. he leaned over to open the door for you to get in, asked you how your class was, did the things he always did.

topper’s an idiot for boosting his wheels, and you’d told him as much when he showed you guys for the first time. getting down is a nightmare, even more in your sore state (which you are attributing to the pilates and not the boy sitting next to you right now). 

you turn to look at rafe again but he’s not there, and instead you see him in your window, opening the door and offering you a hand to get down. rafe’s probably helped you down a dozen times. this feels different, you admit to yourself, holding onto his hand to get down and keenly aware of his other hand hovering around your waist.

inside, the party is in full swing, one corner by the windows with billows of smoke and a group of boys in another corner mixing drinks. 

the four of you end up like always—divided into half on opposite ends of a painted pong table from someone’s old frat house. some girl top’s been talking to makes her way over, hanging off his arm before long. rafe watches you toss the white ball, your nose scrunching up in concentration. you cheer when it goes in, turning to hug kelce. you’ve only had two cups but you’re getting tipsy already, he can tell.

“top. top!” rafe shouts over the music, but he’s too busy talking to the girl to notice.

“man, he’s clearly busy,” kelce says with a laugh.

“i agree. looks like that one’s for you, rafe.” you look at him with a giddy smile, leaning forward on the table, palms pressed flat. he wishes you wouldn’t—he can see down the front of your dress from this angle. you cheer when rafe chugs the cup of cheap beer.

he should make the next one just to get back at you, but he doesn’t want you to get too drunk. instead he misses, the ball falling right into kelce’s hands. 

if you were sober, you’d roll your eyes—you’d recognize that rafe missed on purpose. he’s better at this than all of you combined.

“give me five,” rafe says to top, casting one more glance back at you and kelce before walking towards a group of people on the couches and fishing something out of his pocket.

he’s gone, at most, ten minutes, and returns to find kelce missing. his place is taken by some brunette boy, who is currently trying to show you the best way to toss the ball. he’s standing awful close, a hand on your shoulder, his gaze on your exposed skin while you stare at the red cups.

“who the fuck is this?” rafe barks, though with the music blasting, only topper can hear him.

“i dunno, kelce ran off with that chick he’s been hooking up with-” the white ping pong ball lands in the red cup closest to rafe. he hopes he doesn’t look up to see something that’s gonna piss him off, but it’s dashed in seconds—you hugging the stranger in glee that you made another shot. 

he swings around the table, shooting a glare at the boy while putting himself in between the two of you. he faces the boy first.

“get lost.” the boy tries to say something, but rafe interrupts before he can get a word out. “get. lost.” you watch him scramble away, rafe turning to face you.

“c’mon. we’re done with pong.”

“but i made the last one!”

“i said we’re done. y’lucky i don’t take your ass home.”

“we just got here. why would you take me home?” you question.

for all the big talk, all the jokes and banter and emotions you’re trying to bury, you still don’t understand the simple truth known to everyone that’s ever met you and rafe—he’s never going to be happy seeing you with any boy besides himself.

“what’s wrong?” you question softly, looking up at him with big, confused, drunk eyes, not snarky like he thought you might be.

“no. just.. stop talkin’ to strangers, s’all.”

“but he was nice!” you yell over the music, picking up another cup from the table and taking a sip. you hate beer, but they took top’s jeep and not rafe’s truck, so there’s no spiked seltzer here for you. 

“no he wasn’t.” he takes the cup from your hand, pouring half the beer out into another cup before shoving it back in your hand.

“yeah he was! don’t you want that? the sooner i find a nice guy we can stop all of this, right?” you look at him earnestly, before chugging the rest of your beer. 

“alright, you’re cut off.”

the rest of the night goes by the same as all the others—kelce and top into a competition to see who can get more drunk, you tipsy enough to talk loudly about anything that comes to mind and rafe scaring away any guy who stares at you for too long. you stare at rafe’s back when he goes to sell, watching a pretty girl touch his arm when he’s counting the cash she’s handed him. 

you look away since you feel the beer coming back up, anger bubbling. you focus on topper, trying to follow along with his nonsensical conversation about his ex-girlfriend.

“don’t worry,” kelce says, and you turn your gaze on him, confused. “he didn’t even look at her.”

“what?” but his eyes aren’t on you, glancing behind you. you turn, though you shouldn’t, looking at rafe, two girls laughing at something while he opens the little white packet for them. glancing at kelce, and then at top, who is keeled over on the sofa, nursing a half-empty bottle of tequila just by himself, you walk over to where rafe is.

“wait, don’t-” kelce calls out after you, but you don’t listen.

“rafe, i think top’s ready to go. are you?” you interrupt his conversation with the two girls, and though you despise the fact that you’re doing this, you realize kelce was right. he wasn’t even looking at them. you gesture at your two other best friends on the couch, kelce trying to yank the bottle from top’s grip.

“yeah, kid. c’mon, this place is dead anyways.” you smile, though you shouldn’t let rafe see it. no, your smile is for the girls. you feel an unparalled joy when rafe swings his arm around you, guiding you back to the couch. 

you shouldn’t look back, but you do. the girls look mad and you feel happy.

this is fucked—the very thought sobers you. you shouldn’t be happy that those girls think there’s something between you and rafe, but you are. 

rafe manhandles topper into standing up, while kelce turns to talk to you. he’s drunk, and it comes out like a laugh. you smile, thinking he’s going to make some joke about top and tequila.

“you’re just as toxic as he is. hah. and i thought rafe was bad-”

“what?” you ask, but rafe cuts you off before you can figure out what kelce means.

“kelce, it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t puke in the back.”

“man, why am i always on top watch-”

in the car, you pick the music while rafe drives. you notice he keeps an eye out in the backseat, with top’s head half out the window and kelce texting on his phone.

“did you sell a lot?” you ask. you’ve never really mentioned it before, so rafe didn’t expect it tonight.

kelce’s words linger in your head. if you weren’t sober before he said that, you certainly are now. 

“enough. why?”

“just wondering. i saw you before we left, that’s all.” you look at the road ahead, listening to the quiet tune of the bryson tiller song you’d put on.

“you saw me?”

“with the pretty girl throwing herself at you? hard not to see.” you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth—you sound bitter and angry, two things you truly are, but you don’t want rafe to know already.

“what, you jealous, kid?”

“why would i be jealous? you’re not my boyfriend.” it comes out louder than you expected, trying to talk over top and kelce’s voices in the backseat.

“no, m’not.” 

you bite your cheek and stare out the window. 

“not to interrupt, or anything, but i think top’s gonna puke-” you jolt when rafe slams on the brakes.

tannyhill is fifteen minutes from where the party was, but it takes fifty minutes to get back. rafe pulled over twice to let topper puke on the side of the road, so it’s three am before the four of you get back.

you want to go home—the alcohol in your system and unfinished conversation with rafe have left you feeling queasy too, but it’s three in the morning. top and kelce are too drunk to drive you, and you don’t want to ask rafe.

you decide that you don’t want to be alone with rafe either, changing into one of the shirts you’d brought from home and stupidly looking down realizing it’s one of rafe’s. did you own a single t-shirt that wasn’t from his closet? where had all of your clothes gone?

grumpy that you’re in his clothes, upset that he had pretty much admitted he wasn’t your boyfriend, and riddled with the assumption that he meant he would never be your boyfriend, you collect a pillow and one of the blankets from his bed, walking out the door when you hear rafe’s voice saying your name.

“where the hell are you goin’?” facing him, you stare at your feet.

“the couch.”

“when have you ever slept on the couch here?”

“i’m starting something new.”

“get in bed before i drag you there.” you groan, thumping both feet on the ground before stalking into the room. rafe exhales loudly, loud enough that you hear it, before muttering something under his breath and following you inside, closing the door.

you sit on the bed, but before you can think about what you’ve done, you bunch up a pillow in your hand.

“you-” you throw the pillow at rafe, which misses him completely. “suck!” the second thuds against his chest, before falling on the ground. you huff from your position on the bed.

rafe picks up both pillows, dropping them on the bed.

“what the hell was that?”

“this whole thing was a mistake.”

“it’s been two days.”

“well i’m an emotional fuck!”

“yeah, i can tell.” you pick up the pillow again, whacking rafe’s side with it.

“ugh! you can’t just-” your hands falter, dropping next to you while you look up at rafe through wet eyes. “-just say that us sleeping together is a good idea because you don’t want me with any other guys. what the fuck am i supposed to do with that?” 

“i don’t know! you’re the fuckin’ clueless one. what’d you think that means?”

“stop! just tell me! stop making me think, i’m so drunk and everything is mental gymastics with you-”

“well stop throwin’ my own pillows at me!”

“you suck, rafe. all of this and you can’t just tell me whether you like me or not?” 

in hindsight, you don’t know where the question came from. maybe a small part of you that wasn’t willfully ignorant suspected a long time ago that the way rafe acts towards you is more than just overprotective friendship. you had buried the thought the second it emerged—rafe cameron doesn’t have girlfriends, doesn’t do relationships. the rafe that’s been your best friend was your best friend for that very reason, because you weren’t in love with him.

or at least you thought you weren’t in love with him. and at least, he thought you weren’t in love with him.

the truth, you’re beginning to realize, watching rafe grab the pillow you’re about to hit him with out of your hands and set it down, is that rafe only acts the way he does with you, and no one else. the drinks you like in the back of his car, his shirts in your closet, the bed you share and all the time you two spend alone. you thought it was a great friendship, and maybe it was. but all along there’s been something bubbling underneath the surface, the feeling in the pit of your stomach when he started talking to that girl, how angry you get when you see him with any girl that’s not you. 

you thought rafe’s a dick for giving you such a hard time about any boy you try to talk to. he is a dick, but you’re the bitch that can’t stand seeing him with another girl.

and as the thoughts rush through your head, rafe looks at you in his bed, in his shirt, and realizes the answer to your question is that there’s no one in the world he likes more than you.

“you should have told me ‘bout the emotional fuck part.”

“you should have just confessed.”

“nah, not really my thing.” he sits down on the bed next to you, and you stare up at blue eyes that are looking at you, a smile on his lips. “this whole thing was a bad idea.”

“it’s been two days,” you mock.

“yeah, well, we tried it.”

“do you regret it?” you hold your breath for the moment of truth.

“c’mon kid. yeah, i do. ‘cause i’m not letting you out of my sight after this. you’re dating me or no one at all.”

“so if we break up-”

“straight to the convent for you. don’t worry, i’ll send you a care package. strawberry seltzer and those porno books-”

“shut up.”

“you shut up. and get the fuck into bed. it’s late.”

“you don’t want one last emotional fuck? on your last day as a single man?” you tease, crawling under the sheets. “learn how to read a clock. it’s past midnight.”

“oh. whatever, you know what i mean.”

“i guess i can be convinced-” he leans in for a kiss, and you hold your breath waiting for it, when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“guys. sorry to interrupt whatever the hell this is, but i think top needs to get his stomach pumped.”

[ennabear]

Hiya ennnabear!! Back with another req (　ﾟ 3ﾟ)

can i ask for sum sevika x hyperfemme!reader? Could either be a fic or a list of headcannons, nsfw or sfw, i really dont mind !! >3< the prompts up to your interpertation!! Whatever u feel comftorable with!! ＼(^o^)／

I can just imagine Sevika, with her pastel pink, poofy-dressed eyecandy, sitting on her lap as she plays cards .. the people shes playing with all sorta eyeing reader because like what the fuck?? And reader is just like 'oh sevikas just so adorable shsjkassjksksk cutie patootie i wuv her!!!!!' while Sevika is off in the distance beating someone half to death because he touched her shoulder .. on accident ( ﾟーﾟ)

also, i beg of you to use inspo from that one scene in deadpool where he meets yukio. I kid you not thats where i got this requests inspo from.

"What in the fuck knuckles is this?"

(Sevika, with a literal living doll in her lap) "Shes my girlfriend you intolerant shit."

"Woah! Pump the hate breaks, fox-and-friends! Im just suprised anyone would date you! Especially pinkie pie from my little pony."

aaaaa i love this woman sososo much ( ´∀`) my 6' criminalistic murderer drug (shimmer) addict babygirl (〃_ _)

thanks in advance if u decide to write this !! sorry for the agonizingly long yap sesh (^_^;)

--🃏🌀⭐️

(and now to crawl back into my pit of lesbian shame .. (ФωФ))

HIII ANON sorry this took me so long to answer but i’m occupied with writing 2 sevika oneshots so i hope i can earn your forgiveness once they’re out 🫶 also i yapped a lil about hyperfemme!sevika here so ignore the fact that i can’t follow a request to save my life!!! 18+

ok so the way i envision sevika’s girlfriend would be a little bit… drag-ey?? i don’t really know how to explain it so allow me to elaborate…

1. we already know that femme lesbians are feminine in a way that’s different from feminine straight women (more cutesy, stylish, female gaze, etc.) but also…

2. with the way people dress in zaun (when they’re not murdering each other) and the general way they’re animated is very costumey. lots of face paint, masks, sophisticated outfits.

so i think in the arcane universe you’d probably dress something like this. painting your skin weird colors, covering yourself head to toe in body glitter, wearing expensive wigs, corsets, and heels that look impossible to move in, and stuff like that.

that means sevika would try to make sure you’re comfortable 24/7!!! especially if you’re wearing something potentially dangerous like heels that are two feet tall, she wouldn’t let you walk the whole night, instead picking you up and hauling you around.

as if the money silco pays her isn’t enough, she makes tons of money from the guys she gambles with. she spends every last PENNY on you. it’s not like she needs to spend it on herself though, her arm and her scowl are a pretty deadly weapon, and she doesn’t go all out with clothes like you do.

also i think she’d completely fold if you ever wore a low cut top or even no top when you go out with her (and she doesn’t believe in bras… so…) especially if you have piercings in/around your tits, she’d be fondling them and groping them all night!!!

she 10000000% has a thing for public sex!!!! while she’s playing cards, she’ll slide your skirt up (if it’s even long enough…), and have you ride her strap. the dumbfucks she’s playing with would gawk and stare at what’s obviously going on in her lap, but she’s about to rob them of their money, so they really shouldn’t be focusing on it.

oooh and once you finally cum, she’d be like “good girl, now give me another. okay?” and her fingers would start vibrating as you slump down next to her… of course you might get weird looks, but if anyone tries to say or do anything about it she could literally just kill them. (or maybe she’s feeling nice and will break a few of their ribs instead, who knows…)

she’d be constantly covered in some kind of your makeup. especially if you wear a crazy color lipstick like bright blue or something, her lips and cheeks and nose would be that color the whole night. and if you wear body glitter, it would look sooooo pretty on her skin. she’d be glaring at people all night like 😡😡😡😡 but her face and hands would look like ✨✨🌈🦄🩷✨✨

adding onto that, she’d look sooo pretty if she let you experiment (which is a pretty big IF), but imagine her with her hair curled, wearing pretty purple glitter on her cheeks and arms, in some sort of heeled boots that make her even taller than she needs to be, and in a dress?? in a short dress??? sevika in a short dress???? i’ll (s)cream right now…

if someone manages to corner you and talk to you about sevika, the conversation would be hilarious and very unproductive. they’d be like “why her? doesn’t she scare you?” and you’d be like “sevika? my little baby bear?? my knight in shining armor who screams at the sight of bugs??? no… she doesn’t scare me…”

meeting silco and the rest of the last drop crew would be… quite the experience. they’re all staring with wide eyes, practically shaking because of how scary she looks, and then there’s you with your hands entwined with hers, some of your bright pink face paint smudging onto her cheeks and neck as you nuzzle into her. silco’d find her alone for one moment and ask “who the hell is that?” and she’d reply with “my girlfriend. 😾 don’t mess with her.” and he’d be like “your girlfriend? your girlfriend is a barbie doll?? o…kay… congrats to both of you…”

[moonstruckme]

hii idk if ur taking requests but can u write sth with rockstar!remus who’s like full of adrenaline after a shkw and just kisses r ☹️☹️ the others wont let them be LOLLL😭😭😭 hope ur having an amazing day 💘

You have an amazing day too !

rockstar!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 643 words

James all but sprints off the stage, as he always does, working off his post-show adrenaline the best way he knows how. His routine seems unaltered by the fact that this is the biggest show the boys have played yet, but you don’t suppose he can really kick it into a higher gear than it already is. It’s also entertaining for the rest of you, watching him hurdle over sound equipment and careen past frightened-looking crew members before calling a “sorry!” behind him. 

You know to expect Remus behind him, leaving the stage at a slower pace while Sirius stays and soaks up the energy for as long as he can before someone physically drags him off, but you’re not expecting the unusual energy about your boyfriend when he comes in. 

Remus is crackling, the exact sound of when he plugs his bass into the amp but around him like an aura. Your heart kicks in your chest. 

You beam at him, holding up the small bouquet you’d impulse-bought at a stand a few blocks from the venue. You feel a bit silly, but Remus doesn’t seem to mind. 

He lets out a breathy little laugh at the sight of you and shakes his head as he takes two long strides, grasping your hips and pressing you into the wall. 

The flowers are instantly forgotten. Remus’ mouth is warm and insistent on yours, his knee pushing in between your legs and his nose pressed into your cheek. You don’t realize you’ve stopped breathing until he breaks the kiss. 

He sets both hands on your cheeks. There are crew members buzzing around you, and the crowd is still thrumming outside, and somewhere James is talking loudly, but Remus’ face is the only thing in the world. Scarred and sweaty and smiling at you. 

“Great show,” you scrape out. 

Another short laugh. If you didn’t know better, you’d say your boyfriend was giddy. “Yeah?” He gives you another kiss, shorter but still shock-happy. His lips stay curved against yours. “I thought so,” he admits, a bit softer, like a secret. 

You lower your voice to match. “You were incredible.” 

Remus grins even bigger, brilliant and totally unlike himself. He’s practically glowing. 

“Remus,” Sirius shouts, prancing toward the both of you with his usual regard for private intimacy, “if you’d pause in fondling your girlfriend, James says we’ve got a group out back who wants autographs.” 

Remus drops his forehead to yours, his disbelieving puff of air tickling over your nose. You pet down the hairs at his nape. 

“Oh, are these for us?” Sirius sounds delighted. Remus doesn’t take the bait, but you do, turning to find him looking at the flowers hanging limply from your grasp. “Doll, you shouldn’t have!”

“How could I resist,” you play along, letting go of Remus to ease one of the stems out from the rest. Sirius takes it from you happily. “They go so well with your outfits.” 

“More Remus’ than ours,” James notes, coming over. He’s even sweatier than the other two, but his excess energy seems mostly spent, “but I’m sure that’s only coincidence.” 

“Certainly,” Sirius agrees. “She’d never pick favorites. Say, babe, want me to sign something of yours?”

“She’s good,” Remus answers for you, tugging you closer and touching his lips to your brow. “I’ve got this one.” 

“I’ll bet you do.” James is grinning. He prods Remus’ shoulder, encouraging you both to follow him towards where the fans are waiting. “She may not pick favorites, but you will, is that right?” 

“Enough,” Remus says, but he’s still too happy to work up any real rancor. 

“Oh, I already know you’re gonna get an extra special autograph, doll,” Sirius teases. Your face starts to heat. “Likely when we see you tomorrow, he’ll have left you some even darker than a marker could do—” 

“Enough.” 

[crheativity]

Hello how have u been I was wondering if I can request a slightly part 2 of the reader making the overblot squad cute little plushies so wha if the reader makes the plushies clothing and accessories like for vil’s plushie little fake makeup and same clothing he has sorry if my English is bad I’m still learning

SUMMARY: You decide to make the Overblot Squad’s plushies clothes! How do they react?

WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!

COMMENTS: Oh my GOSH this is such a cute idea!! And no worries Anon, your English is just fine :D I hope you enjoy it!!

Part one - Prefect making the Overblot Squad plushies of their respective Seven member - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.

You made his plushie some… clothes? He didn’t even know you could remove her current ones! He would never think to try something so scandalous on his own! Especially not with a plushy of the Queen of Hearts!! Ah, wait- he meant no disrespect! He just meant that he wouldn’t- uh… He’s just gonna stop talking now.

You have to show him how to change his plushy’s clothes – he refuses to figure it out on his own in case someone walks in – but once you show him it’s not like that, he’s more comfortable with it. He doesn’t change things around a lot – maybe whenever you make him a new one. He keeps them all safely in a box under his bed. Occasionally, he’ll take them out just to look at. Seeing them always makes him smile.

You decided to make the powerful, feared and mighty King of Beasts… a hat? And slippers? Hah, you got guts, Prefect. He’s gotta say, he respects it. Alright, he’ll indulge you. He’s slightly surprised at how small yet detailed the accessories are. There’s something slightly endearing about such small clothes… maybe that’s one of the reasons why people like children? Tch. He can’t relate.

Nonetheless, it’s amusing to him what kind of accessories you think of. He’s also not the type to change up the doll’s outfit a whole lot, but he’ll stash them all around his room. Much like the toy, they all smell of you. It’s starting to annoy the other Beastmen. Ruggie’s strongly considering having an intervention.

Prefect… these are adorable! Are you sure you don’t want to sell these? Ah, r-right. Please forgive him for forgetting they were for-... for his eyes only. Please stop looking at him and let him regain his composure. He absolutely loves them! He hopes you know how much of a friend the doll has become to him. He’s starting to tear up, you’re so kind. Give him a minute.

Azul has designated different clothes for different purposes. Before bed, he puts his doll in her pajamas. When he wakes up, he selects her outfit for the day and changes her into it. He does this almost ritualistically every day. Floyd and Jade have teased him for it, but surprisingly, Azul doesn’t seem to mind.

Oh? You made his Sorcerer of the Sands doll some different outfits? Pft– that’s so cute. He didn’t mean to laugh at you – he’s delighted, really! He just… can’t believe that you’d spend precious free time doing something like that. Hey, come on, he’s not judging you or anything, but free time is precious, right? You should spend it more on doing what you want to do. Still, though, he loves the clothes - and finds your cute little pout adorable. 

He definitely keeps them with the doll. Whenever you make him new ones, he’ll pick up the doll and change the outfit. Otherwise, he’ll only change them a couple times every so often. This has given him an idea though. Maybe you’d like a doll too? Then you could match. Although, Ramshackle dorm doesn’t really have a mascot… maybe he could make you a ghost? Or a plushie of Grim? 

(Didn’t he say that spending ‘precious free time’ doing something like ‘that’ was wasted? Point it out to him and he’ll get flustered and walk off in a huff. He will return with a plush and an apology for you two days later. He enjoyed making it a lot.)

You made his doll clothes?! He’s trying not to squeal like a teenage girl. He didn’t know that his doll could change clothes!! Oh, prefect, he loves you so much. He’s going to ask you to make so many clothes, you better be prepared for what you’re getting into!

He, like Azul, changes the clothes all the time and will often just sit down for like an hour and change the doll into perfect outfits. As you could probably guess, Vil LOVES using the doll to try out new looks. Whenever he’s designing an outfit or a piece of clothing, he always asks you to make a small version for him to try out on the doll. This helps him to be able to practise styling them and getting an idea of how the finished piece would look. 

His favourite kind of outfit to ask for, however, is anything that reminds you of fashion from your homeworld.

You made his marketable plushie some marketable clothes?? Oh my gosh. That’s adorable. It’s so small! Looks like those itty bitty cutey kitty clothes– AH– ahem. you didn’t hear that. He definitely wasn’t just having a total fanboy moment. no siree… do you think you could make him an outfit from his favourite anime? that’d be cool, he guesses.

He’s DEFINITELY gonna make the little guy cosplay his favourite characters. Maybe that’d improve his gacha roles even more? Oh he is 100% down to help too. Any clothes that require metallic details he is WELDING that stuff together. It’s so cute how invested he gets in this. Ortho loves seeing his brother get so passionate about this too!

Malleus is DELIGHTED. He was not aware that his little friend could change outfits! How adorable! He loves you so much! He is this close to buying an actual, fully sized wardrobe just for them! …But Lilia talks him out of it. Actual, fully sized wardrobes take up a surprising amount of room. So, he ends up getting two, miniature wardrobes. Which fills about the same space. Lilia’s not sure his advice really worked.

Malleus will now dress up his dolls for tea parties, picnics, or whatever outings they decide to go on. He is constantly surprised and delighted by whatever you make him, although he’s not very good at suggesting ideas. One of the few ideas he came up with was fashionable about a hundred years ago and was a very complicated piece of clothing. However, when he received the outfit, he took great measure to ensure that no harm would ever come to it. 

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[flowafairy]

Hey I SOOOOO love ur works, and I think you're a great author/writer....

Anyway can I request Yukimiya headcanons that'll make me tear up but also happy...(FLUFF AND ANGST) 🤤🤤...FAYLVRS PLSLslekLSLSBSKS I WILL NOT SEND U THREATS ANYMORE

୨୧ think i like you best when you’re dressed in.. ☆ postscript: yukimiya loves picking your outfit of the day.. used to. cw angst ending, spoilers, au , fem reader, 0.3k wc ✧˖ note: did a drabble instead hope u don’t mind lo >_<

it was no surprise that your boyfriend, yukimiya had a great sense of style.

he was a model, after all. you don’t even know how you managed to steal his heart—someone as pretty and alluring as him. so who was your first choice to go to whenever you needed to pick out an outfit? obviously your boyfriend.

maybe you’re lucky for being able to steal his heart, but luck isn’t on everyone’s side. and it was definitely proved with your boyfriend.

“soooo, miya. which one?” you hold out two outfits infront of him, excited to see which outfit he’d choose this time. you enjoyed playing this little game with him, watching his hand move to grip the fabric of the cloth.

“this one feels nice.” his thumb traces the silk-like pattern of the cloth. “i think it’ll look pretty on you.” his hand makes its way to yours, pulling you forward to fall onto the bed with him. even if he couldn’t see, he still remembers your body like the back of his hand.

you both let out fits of laughter when you fall onto the bed, letting out an ow! when your face hits his chest. “what makes you say that?”

“cause i know my pretty girl will look good in anything, right? she learns from the best.” he sends you a teasing wink. “yeahh right, okay pretty boy.”

but its the truth, no matter what you wear, he knows you’ll look absoultely divine.

even if he can’t see it with his own eyes, the image of you that is slowly fading from his mind will always make his heart throb. even if he’s slowly starting to forget what you look like as he lay in the hospital bed, he’ll love you, no matter what.

even if he has to forget his dream about soccer, even if he has to remember your pretty face as a distant memory, nobody could ever make him stop expressing his love to you.

even if he feels the need to break up with you, that you need someone who could appreciate your beauty properly, still, he’ll love you.

even if he’d have to bare the thought of never feeling your touch ever again.

he’ll still love you.

ummm i hate this blind bitch soooooo much …….. @lowkloe ☺️☺️

[maxlarens]

⭐️ - Max - prompt: I will ease your mind (from bridge over troubled water) please thank you 🫶🏻 ily darling

You’re fine. It’s Friday. You’re fine.

You’ve got an afternoon and two whole days of being able to pretend your job doesn’t exist. To bury your work phone at the bottom of your handbag and only fish it out Monday morning. To get the tube home, go straight to bed and fall asleep without dinner—

fuck. Shit.

You’re meant to be getting dinner with Max.

That’s why you wore the cute (but still work appropriate) outfit today. The slightly nicer shoes. Your hair is even done. But you’re already on public transport going the opposite way to where dinner is supposed to be. You’re exhausted, you’re sinking into the seat like it’ll swallow you whole. Like if you try hard enough you could teleport straight to your bed.

You sigh, you fish your (non-work) phone out of your bag.

It only rings once before Max has already picked up.

“Schat,” he breathes, worried, like something might have happened to you, “What is it?”

You’re shaking your head, “Nothing. Nothing. Except I got on the tube home, instead of to dinner. It’s— hmm— it’s been a long day. To say the least.”

You hear a noise from him, a contemplative hum, the scrape of a chair, “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“I—”, you frown glancing at a map of the stops, trying to puzzle through your memory, “Like halfway to my apartment… I dunno though, Maxie. I’m wiped. I won’t be any fun at dinner.”

You hear footsteps echoing, “You don’t have to be fun for me”, then, “Get off the train, schat. I’ll take you home.”

You hum, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m already in my car.”

Max picks you up on the side of the road by the train station ten minutes later. You slide into the passenger seat of his car, lean over the dash and kiss him. He mumbles a sweet hello against your mouth, his hand hovering at your jaw, drifting into your hair. After the kiss is finished you press your forehead into his cheek and sigh. A prolonged tired thing.

“Work bad?”, he asks, hand gently cradling the back of your neck now.

“Awful,” you breathe, “So bad.”

“Mm,” he strokes the skin on your neck, “Let me take you home, liefje. We’ll order your favourite.”

“Please,” you murmur, “Can we watch Tangled too?”

Max snickers a little into your hair, “Whatever you want.”

You pull yourself from his grip, kissing his cheek before settling into the passenger seat. It’s not a long drive home, but as it goes on you feel the exhaustion sinking deep into your bones. The work day wearing on you even more now that it’s over. Max can see it on you, the way your thoughts are still fumbling through the issues of the day, the things you’ll have to deal with come Monday.

You’re distracted on the elevator ride to your floor, while you fish your keys from your bag, even as you flick the lights on by the door and set your bag on the kitchen counter. Max trails behind you, crowding you in the kitchen. He puts his arms around you, puts his nose into your shoulder. Kisses the junction of your neck.

“You should quit,” he says, quiet, low— you feel something skitter down into your gut as you lean back into him, “Move in with me and the cats. They love you.”

“Yeah,” you say, fishing for something else, “Do they?”

“Of course, schat,” his breath fans against your ear, “and so do I.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

ohhhhh to have someone tell u to quit your job so they can take care of u. anyway i hope this is kinda what u had in mind🥰 also tangled like is the ultimate comfort movie for me

send me a prompt/request + a driver and i’ll write a drabble. pls check my requests are open first💖

[headkiss]

maybe this christmas time

pairing: steve harrington x sunshine!reader

summary: working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns for r, some grumpy steve (he’s still a softie underneath it, i can’t help it!), some family issues (a phone call from steve’s mom), a rude customer, christmas activities/themes, fluff, and a first kiss!

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays from me to you!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one, i had a lot of fun writing it!! big big thank you to @bcyhoods for sending the request that inspired me to write this fic and to @bruisedboys who helped me out when i was unsure about things <333 ily guys i hope u all have the happiest of holidays!

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Starcourt Mall is decorated to the brim. Fake snow and garlands, giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a Christmas tree that stays lit all day long.

And, in the middle of it all, Santa’s Workshop.

That’s where you are, where you’ve been for a couple of Decembers now. Every other month of the year, you work at the movie theater, scooping popcorn and scanning tickets. But, for December, you trade in your cinema t-shirt for an elf outfit, striped tights and all.

“It’s really not so bad once you get past the itching,” you tell Steve.

“Great,” he says, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

“Great,” you repeat, cheery enough for the both of you.

He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than the sailor uniform. That is, until he saw what he had to wear for this gig.

It’s Steve Harrington’s first year at Santa’s Workshop, and you’ve been tasked with training him, though the job is mostly self-explanatory.

But unlike you, Steve didn’t volunteer for this.

“I can’t believe they picked me to do this,” he sighs. “Don’t even like elves.”

“Well they had to pick someone, Steve.” You shrug, “who knows, you might end up having fun!”

“Not likely.”

“At the very least, you’re getting paid, right?” You nudge him once with your elbow, “plus, if you’re extra nice, some moms give pretty good tips.”

You and Steve went to school together, but he never really spoke to you then. It was only after graduation that you had any sort of conversation with him. They mostly consisted of him bribing you with free ice cream to let Dustin and the gang into the movies for free.

That was after you caught him letting them into the back rooms to sneak in.

Now, Steve’s wearing a pair of slippers that jingle with every step just like yours, and in the only two shifts you’ve had together so far, you’ve spoken more than ever. Even if it’s mostly been instructions from you and an unenthusiastic comment in response from Steve.

“Do I really have to wear these fucking shoes?” He asks, following you out of the staff room.

“Yes. It’s part of the uniform.” You turn around to face him, walking backwards while he walks forwards. “Don’t worry, you’ll tune out the jingling soon enough.”

“I’ll hear these jingles in my nightmares.”

“At least you look cute!”

You spin back around, and Steve only rolls his eyes as he trudges on behind you.

Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about you, whether he finds you a little annoying or endearing. At the moment, with an elf hat squishing his hair, he’s leaning a little more towards the first.

He didn’t know you during school. Admittedly, he was an asshole for most of his time at Hawkins High, so that explains that. Even still, he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re kind enough not to snitch on him for sneaking the kids into the movies and that you seem to seep sunshine all the fucking time.

And your sunshine seems to be dialed up during the holidays. Like you really believe in ‘holiday cheer.’

Steve knows, deep down and buried somewhere he’s not quite ready to face yet, that he’s mostly just jealous. Because if you like the holidays so much, if you’re smiling the way you do so often, you must have it pretty good at home.

To him, nothing else makes sense. Not when Christmas at the Harrington household has been absolute shit for years. First, it was the gifts he never wanted, things his parents didn’t care enough to know he didn’t like. Then, they dwindled until, eventually, Christmas did, too.

There’s a travel discount during the holidays, sweetie. We’re visiting dad’s boss’ cabin. Next year, we promise. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

So yeah, Steve’s never really understood the appeal. Walking behind you in a pair of jingling shoes and a scratchy outfit, he’s not sure he ever will.

You lead him towards the area where Santa’s Workshop has been set up, right by the fountain. There’s bright red carpet rolled out over the usual tiled floors, an area set up for the cue of families, and of course, a bench where some guy playing Santa will sit.

“Since we’re opening today I’ll show you the whole set-up routine.” You step over the rope with the sign that says ‘Gone to feed the reindeer!’ with Steve in tow. “Easy peasy.”

Steve steps over the rope behind you, shaking his head at the sound his shoes make when he lands. He chooses to listen to your voice instead.

“First, we count the props,” you nod over at the bin that’s tucked away behind a small tree, “there should be four sets of antlers, two santa hats, a red nose, and some extra elf hats.”

He stares at you—because why on earth would you have that memorized—and raises his eyebrows. For a moment, as he watches you grab the clipboard that sits atop the prob bin and start counting, Steve wonders if maybe he should be more like you. The kind of person who seems to see the good in everything.

Then, he remembers what the outfit he’s got on looks like and shakes the thought away.

“Why would anyone want to be a clown in these pictures?” He says.

“The red nose is for Rudolph, dummy.”

You say dummy with a smile, like it’s something to admire. Steve huffs.

“Rudolph’s a loser.”

“Aw, come on, he’s got his own song and everything! I’d say that makes him the opposite of a loser.”

“Of course you would,” he mutters, cursing the tiniest twitch of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next?”

“Right,” you grab the bag that you brought from the staff room and set it on the ground by the tripod that’s already set up. “Next is the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”

The only knowledge Steve’s got of cameras comes from whatever Jonathan has told him, which hasn’t been very much, considering the pair’s history on the topic despite them being friends now.

So, he steps closer to you, watches as you pull the camera out of the bag.

“You just have to switch it on and make sure the battery’s full, right there,” you say, pointing at the small symbol that lets you know if the camera’s charged or not. “And don’t forget to take the lens cap off. I did it once and this dad yelled at me, so...”

You pop the lens cap off, putting it in the bag. Steve’s standing close to you, right behind you, his chin hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest just shy of brushing against your back.

“Finally,” you continue, ignoring the little skip in your heartbeat, the way you breathe just a tiny bit quicker. “Set it up on the tripod, and you’re good to go.”

He watches your fingertips move easily, securing the camera to the tripod. When you’re done, you turn around to face him, and it’s only then that Steve realizes how close he’s gotten.

Close enough that you stumble and land against his chest, his hands on your upper arms to steady you as you pull back quickly, like you’d been burned. Steve, however, doesn’t let go just yet and he’s got no idea why.

He doesn’t let go until the music in the mall is switched on, the opening notes of some Christmas song startling you both. Steve steps back and releases you, dropping his hands by his sides and ignoring the twitch of his fingers.

“Alright,” you say, trying to brush the moment off. “That sound means we’re open. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

-

Your lunch breaks at Santa’s Workshop feel like a luxury, because no matter how much you enjoy the job, it’s nice to get away from the rowdy children it forces you to deal with.

Unlike your job at the theater, where your breaks are staggered, the workshop closes for an hour every day, meaning that even during lunch, Steve’s stuck with you.

The sign by the line for Santa is flipped, and parents groan whenever they see the festive font saying you’ll be back in an hour.

You take the hour spent in the staff room as a time to ask him questions, what his hobbies are (“does driving a pack of 13-year-olds around count?”), if he likes his job at Scoops (“I’m starting to appreciate it more. The lesser of two evils, or something”), if he’d introduce you to Robin someday (“I’m afraid of what that might do to my sanity.”)

Today, you’re trying to tackle the subject of his Grinch-like tendencies.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” You ask.

Steve doesn’t know why he continues to answer your questions whenever you throw them at him—which is often—but he does. He thinks it might be like being mean to a puppy, ignoring you. Unnecessarily cruel.

“Don’t have one.”

“Ugh. Come on, Steve! Everyone has a favorite.” You slump in your seat across from him at the small table in the break room. Steve stares at you blankly as he takes another bite of his lunch. “You can tell me.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your foot with his when it comes close. “They’re cheesy.”

“Aren’t you secretly a rom-com fan?”

“How did you-”

“So, you actually enjoy cheesy movies!”

“Okay, well you don’t have to say it to the entire mall. Gosh.”

Steve wonders how you know that about him, how you’ve been able to guess a lot of things without him telling you. Briefly, just for a second, he wonders if that might mean something.

Like, if maybe you’re in his life now for a reason.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Steve.” You smile what you hope is an honest, reassuring smile. “So, the cheesiness isn’t the root of the issue.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna take a guess here,” you start, “and say that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Steve, I’ve never heard someone complain about jingle bells so much in my life.”

“We can’t all behave like we’ve been injected with sunshine.”

You don’t think he means it as a compliment, but you decide to take it as one nonetheless. But you suppose he’s right, there’s always gotta be a balance. Dark and light, happy and sad.

“Thank you,” you give him a quick grin. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

He’s silent for a moment, twisting his fork around between his fingers. “My parents never really did Christmas.”

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest at his words, at the way his tone goes quieter, at the way he looks at the table to avoid catching your eye.

Immediately, you feel guilty for prying, because the last thing you’d ever wanted to do was force him to tell you something he didn’t want to. It’s not your place, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much you’d like to give him a hug or something right about now.

It’s not your place, but you find yourself wishing it could be.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.” You reach for his hand that sits on the table and give it a quick squeeze before pulling back. “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have bugged you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to accept it.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t affect him. But from the scrunch in his brows, you can tell it does, at least a little bit. “The Harringtons have better things to do than sit around cleaning up wrapping paper.”

Steve feels embarrassed, his cheeks warm and his head bent. He doesn’t like scraping this wound open, doesn’t like to think about what he was missing out on while everyone thought his life was perfect.

He especially doesn’t want you looking at him like he’s injured or something after this.

Surprisingly to Steve, you don’t. You actually do quite the opposite. You smile brightly at him, like you’ve just had an excellent idea, like you can inject a bit of your sunshine into him with it.

“How about this: I’ll teach you how great Christmas can be.”

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Steve tries to shake his admission away, to clear the room. He points at the elf hat on his head, “this outfit has ruined any last shred of hope I had.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you make a cute elf? You pull it off better than I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Steve raises his eyebrows at you. You ignore that look. “Whatever. I cannot in good conscience, let you keep disliking Christmas. Think of how fun it could be. Plus, you owe me for all of those movies I let your children into.”

Steve already finds it difficult to say no to you, because of how kind you remain even when he’s snarky with you, because of the same kindness you seem to offer to everyone you meet.

So, even though he’s not sure what your plan entails, he sighs and says: “okay. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You cheer, clapping a little in your seat. “Oh my gosh, we can go skating, and go to one of those Christmas light festivals, and make cookies-”

“What did I get myself into?” Steve mutters, while you’re still rambling off ideas.

“-I’m gonna need to make a list.”

Even after your break ends, you seem to have an extra pep in your step, if that’s even possible. Your smile is a bit wider, your eyes brighter, and Steve can’t help but feel a little special for being somewhat responsible for that.

Really, what did I get myself into, he wonders.

-

In the time between him agreeing to your Christmas plans a couple of days ago and now, at yet another shift, Steve has realized that he actually likes you quite a bit. Even though your seemingly constant optimism drives him a little bit crazy.

You treat everyone with an attitude that’s so rare, he finds that his previous annoyance for you is slowly becoming overtaken by the endearment.

He won’t admit it, not when bantering with you seems to be the highlight of his days lately, but Steve is starting to be sort of grateful that he got selected for this job.

And that has absolutely nothing to do with the outfit he wears. He still fucking hates that.

“It’s alright, cutie,” he hears your voice say, all soft and understanding. He finds you, crouched down to talk to a little girl who seems to be wary of Santa. “I bet Santa will give you something extra from your list if you smile for the picture.”

The girl nods, like she’s determined. But, when you stand back up, she grabs onto your hand by your side.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Can you do it with me?”

You look over to the girl’s mother where she stands to the side, and she nods, eager to get the picture done. So, with that, you say, “okay, then.”

Steve’s standing behind the camera as he watches you help the girl onto the bench beside Santa. Then you’re sitting beside her and telling her to look at the nice boy behind the camera.

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking about him, but when he does, he forces himself into action, bending to look through the viewfinder.

“Say cheese,” he says.

The click of the camera sounds, and then it’s done. You help the girl down, who goes over to her mom quickly and they head over to grab their picture.

Once they’re gone, the line dies down, giving you and Steve a rare pause from the pictures and overenthusiastic welcomes to ‘the North Pole.’

“I hope that family’s okay with my face in their picture,” you say, coming to stand beside Steve by the camera. “I mean, I know the mom nodded, but maybe they’ll cut me out of it.”

You’ve become more comfortable with Steve the more you’ve worked with him, getting to know him in how his grumpiness is more related to the holidays and early mornings than anything else, in how he turns the same grumpiness down when he talks to the kids.

You think he’s grown more comfortable with you, too, because he’s started bringing you a coffee in a festive cup in the morning, leaving it in your cubby without a word.

From Steve, you think that says a lot. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, you think. Like the free ice cream he gives you from Scoops, or the small nod he’d give you whenever he’d pick up the kids from a movie.

And now, there’s the small tug of his lips, the hint of a smile that has you saying, “Steve Harrington are you smiling right now?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head at you. “That was sweet. What you did for that girl.”

Steve lets himself say what he thinks for once, because there’s nobody else around, because he wants you to hear it.

You hide your shy smile by looking down at your feet. You know that underneath everything, Steve is probably one of the best boys you’ve ever met, because even with his attitude, he’ll never say anything to truly hurt you, and with how little you know about his family, you also know that it’s rare for someone in his situation to remain so good.

Any resemblance of a compliment from Steve feels extra special, like its own gift in itself.

“Ruining her picture, you mean?” You ask, trying to cover up how you feel about him calling you sweet.

“You didn’t ruin that picture, sunshine.”

Sunshine. That’s new.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Before Steve has the chance to respond, the line picks up again, and it’s back to business as usual. The routine click of the camera, the sound of parents telling their kids to smile nice and big.

You and Steve catching each other’s eye when a particularly entertaining family rolls around, laughing at the way he does an impression of a mom after she leaves. With work being sort of like this every day, you wish it could be Christmas all year round. You much prefer this to the theater, you think.

Steve can't say that he likes this job more than Scoops—Robin might call him traitorous—but he finds that you’d been at least a little right when you said that it would get better when he got used to things, when he hears the sound of your laugh rather than those stupid bells on his shoes.

He finds that he sometimes has to remind himself that he doesn’t like the holidays, that they aren’t like this all the time.

At the end of your shift, as you and Steve grab your stuff from the staff room, you turn to him, leaning against the wall as he shrugs on his coat.

“So, I made a list,” you say. “We are going to have the best Christmas ever, Harrington.”

“My standards are very low, so it wouldn’t take much.”

“Don’t care. I have plans. We can make gingerbread houses and get Christmas pajamas-”

“Absolutely not.”

While Steve already agreed to letting you show him Christmas your way, he thinks he can only take so much at a time. Small doses of your jolly spirit are plenty.

“Steeeve.”

“I am drawing the line. No Christmas pajamas. Not happening.”

“But the gingerbread houses are a yes?” You ask, hopeful and smiling like it’ll persuade him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

That’s what Steve decides to say, instead of simply agreeing because he finds that he’d like to spend time with you outside of work, to see if you’re really so bright all the time, to see if he can soak it up a little better when he’s not dressed as a damn elf.

That’s what he decides to say because it’s easier than spilling the rest of it out there. Much, much easier.

“But you already agreed!” You pout at him a little, exaggerated dramatics on your part. “You can’t just tell me I can teach you Christmas and then back out, I mean, I made an actual bucket list. With glitter and shit.”

“Oh no, not the glitter,” Steve places a hand on his chest, sarcastically scandalized. “That makes it serious.”

You blink at him, giving him a blank look. “Don’t diss the list. By the end of it, you’re gonna be jolly as fuck, trust me.”

“Jolly as fuck,” he repeats, shaking his head on a laugh. “You’ve got a way with words, sunshine.”

“Thank you.” You push your tote bag onto your shoulder, fishing out your keys, they clink in your palm when you find them. “I’m not letting you back out of this, by the way. The list is binding.”

“Well in that case…”

You give Steve a little smile, the flash of a sunbeam, before heading out, and he’s left standing in the break room wondering what you’ve got on that list, why you seem to care so much about it.

Huffing, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

-

Steve definitely should not have told you that he’d never been ice skating before.

It all started when you’d been talking about that damn list at your most recent shift, a couple of days after he’d accepted the fact that he couldn’t back out of it (did he really want to?).

“Hey, you have a change of clothes in your bag, right?” You’d asked him in between families.

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Because, Steve, our festivities begin today after work!” You clapped your hands together softly, excited and encouraging, yet delicate. “I haven’t quite decided what we’re starting with yet.”

“I thought you had a list.”

“I do! But it’s not in order,” you shrugged, “I’m more of a mood-based decision maker, anyways.”

“Of course you are,” he’d said, his usual sarcasm lighter, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“So I’m thinking we go skating-”

“Nope.”

“You can't say no to every idea I have. Then how will you get the Christmas experience?”

“I won’t say no to everything.” You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, so, quietly, he added, “it’s just, I’ve never been skating before.”

“Steve, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you reassured him easily, your voice honest in a sort of natural way, like you couldn't lie even if you tried. “All the more reason to give it a try. The point is to have fun, not to be good at it. I’m really not that great, myself.”

“If I hate it, we’re leaving.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how he’d ended up here, standing next to you at the rental counter at the ice rink, telling some teenager his shoe size so he could get a pair of skates.

Steve looks at you as you talk to the teenager, paying before he even gets the chance. He looks at the hat you’ve got on your head, the way your jeans are cuffed just enough to let your snowman patterned socks peek out of your boots.

He realizes that he’s only ever really seen you in uniform, at the theater and as an elf, and he thinks, quickly, like a car driving by, that you look really pretty like this. With snowflakes stuck in your eyelashes and all.

Though he’s never said it, barely let himself think it, he’s always found you pretty in a sort of undeniable way, like it was just a fact. Now, he finds you pretty in a way that makes him feel it.

His heart beats like it feels it, too. The traitor.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing both your and Steve’s pairs of skates. You turn to him, smiling like always, Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, “ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be,” he says, letting you lead the way to the benches by the rink.

He watches the way you tie your skates, copying your movements on his own pair, double knotting the bow at the end. When you stand, he stays seated for a moment, suddenly more nervous than before, because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself in front of you, in front of everyone around.

Like you can read his mind, you say, “it’s okay, the first step is only standing. It looks harder than it is, promise.”

“I feel like you’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you just stand up and find out, then?”

He rolls his eyes, more at himself than you, and pushes himself up from the bench. It takes him a second to get used to the feeling of the skates, of balancing on them, but eventually, he nods at you, eager to get it over with.

“‘Kay, so it’s gonna feel weird when you step on the ice, but you can just hold onto the side until you get the hang of it.” You start walking ahead of him, turning back to say, “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

“Sure you do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The rink is outdoors, the walls surrounded with string lights of all kinds, twinkling and colorful. In the middle, there’s a big tree, a shining gold star sat on top. There’s a hot chocolate stand to the side, the smell mingling with the freshness of the cold.

There are Christmas songs playing over the speakers (of course), and Steve thinks that if he hears one more rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” he’ll have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. On top of that, there’s the sound of laughter, kids with their parents, friends, couples, everyone seems to be having fun.

Everyone seems to be at ease except for him.

You step onto the rink first, skating a couple of steps forward to give Steve room to get on. He holds onto the side like you told him to, lifting a foot and stepping forward slowly, his foot slipping a little when it hits the ice.

You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him, only stand there with a kindness in your eyes that tells him you won’t be anything but patient.

Still, he doesn’t take too long to get the other foot on the ice, too, his feet carrying him forward a little bit, his hand gripping the side tighter.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you skate to his side, leaving space between you as Steve holds out his arm for balance. “Now all you gotta do is push yourself forward.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s called being encouraging, Steve. Let me be encouraging!”

“Fine,” he stares down at his feet, his hair falling over his forehead. “So what do I do?”

“Use one foot to push, and then let yourself glide, switch feet, and repeat. You can do it.”

He gives it a go, and finds that it isn’t awful, but he moves slowly, and looking around at the other people skating, he’s not an impressive skater at all.

Steve has always felt the urge to be good at everything he does, basketball, driving, even fucking babysitting. He’s always tried so hard to do things well, like maybe, if he was talented enough, his parents would care more, would finally be proud of him for something.

He swallows that thought down and pushes forward again.

You follow his speed, gliding easily beside him, “look at you go!”

“I look like an idiot,” he says, his arm outstretched beside him, the other gripping the side, his knees bent.

When you look at him, though, all you see is the pink of his cheeks and nose from the cold, the way his hair brushes against his forehead, the focus in his eyes, the determination. No, you don’t think he looks like an idiot at all.

“You look like you’re trying, and that’s a great look on you, Steve.”

This time, it isn’t only the cold that pinkens his cheeks.

He doesn’t have time to muster up a reply, because the next time Steve skates ahead, he stumbles, his balance wavering until he feels your hand grabbing onto his arm to help steady him.

Then, your hand moves to hold his, and even through the layers of both of your gloves, he feels the warmth in his fingertips, some sort of tingling.

“This way, if you fall, so do I,” you say, squeezing his hand once, winking at him like the thought of falling doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Super sure.”

You hadn’t been lying on that one, because eventually Steve does fall, and you fall right along with him, landing on the ice with a little, “oop!”

On his back, Steve turns his head to look at you, your hair a mess around you, some on your cheeks. He reaches out and brushes it away.

“You okay, sunshine?”

The response he gets is the sound of your laughter, a single loud cackle that has your eyes widening and a hand smacking over your mouth.

Your laughter fades into a fit of giggles, one so infectious that Steve—surrounded by all kinds of Christmas-themed things he swore he hated—laughs along with you.

And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, Steve thinks that the holidays might not be the worst thing ever.

-

Steve’s in a bad mood today, that scrunch in his brows you'd thought had been easing away back in full force.

It’s your first shift back together since you’d been skating only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help but worry that maybe it was too much, that you’d pushed him too far.

Even though, at the time, he’d been smiling more than you’ve seen him smile maybe ever, and you really thought that you had a shot at making Christmas better for him. You worry that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed, that he was pretending to have fun for your sake.

Steve, on the other hand, is actually glad to be at work for once, glad for the distraction it gives him. He’s unaware that his emotions are so visible on his face, that you think an ounce of his annoyance and anger is aimed at you.

All he knows is that after the morning he had, he needs this distraction.

This morning, it wasn’t the beep of his alarm that had woken him up, but the shrill ring of the phone on his bedside table. Groggy, with his eyes still half shut, Steve picked up the phone.

He wishes he didn’t.

“Hello?” His voice was almost a groan, scratchy from sleep, irritated at being woken up earlier than his alarm.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother’s voice made him squint his eyes shut further. “Why do you sound so tired?”

“‘Cause it’s six in the morning, mom.”

“Oh, silly me. I forgot about time zones,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. She didn’t even care enough to know what time it was for her son. “Anyways, I’m calling to let you know your father and I won’t make it home for Christmas this year. There’s this banquet we just can’t miss. You understand, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’d been surprised, doesn’t know why her words, completely devoid of any kind of empathy towards the situation, made his stomach hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, because it was no use to do anything but agree.

This was his normal: an almost monthly phone call from one of his parents from wherever they are in the world, no matter the time, always telling him that they’re missing this holiday, his birthday (which, at this point, he was shocked they even remembered), anything.

“That’s my boy,” she’d said, as if she knew him at all. She didn’t. Hasn’t known him—or cared to—for a long time. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Right.”

“Oh, there’s your father. Gotta go.”

And just like that, she hung up.

Steve almost wishes that they’d never call at all, because maybe then it would be easier to swallow their neglect. If they’d just forget him completely, he could get rid of that stupid, tiny sprout of hope he feels whenever they call, hoping things will be different.

At least it was his mother this time, he thinks. His father is a hundred times worse, only ever disappointed in Steve, asking about his job or when he plans on ‘getting a real life,’ never about him.

So yeah, Steve’s in a bad mood today.

The two of you don’t talk for the majority of your shift, you, afraid that Steve’s angry with you, opting to give him space, and Steve, stewing in every negative emotion that comes along with a phone call from his parents.

You don’t talk until one of the last families in line for the day comes up.

Once the kids are in place, you lean down to look through the viewfinder, counting them down and snapping the picture when they say ‘cheese.’ To the side, the children’s mom looks at you with so much judgment, Steve, even brewing in his thoughts, notices.

With the picture taken, you take the camera over to the mom, letting her see the picture the way you do with all the parents, making sure they approve.

Instead of approval, what you get is, “what the hell is that?”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of rude customers, at every job you’ve had, but this woman all but screams at you, and that’s rare. “Sorry,” you say, “I can take a new one, no problem.”

“I better be getting the new one for free with how these pictures are looking,” she practically hisses at you.

Usually, you can handle stuff like this, can smack on a smile and politely agree to get things taken care of, but today, the mixture of all your self-doubt and worrying about messing things up with Steve and this mother shouting at you, things pile up, and you feel your happy mask slipping.

“Um,” you start, voice small.

“You elves get worse every year,” she says to you. “I can’t believe people this incompetent even exist.”

Steve, hearing the whole thing, is quick to step in front of you, any thoughts about his shitty parents quickly fading in favor of helping you.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but she already offered to take another picture, and if that isn’t good for you, you’re free to leave,” Steve’s voice doesn’t slip one bit, standing his ground with every word.

You’re overwhelmed with everything going on, and when Steve turns around to look at you, nodding his head towards the staff room, you take the escape he offers you quickly, eyes blurry with tears you won’t let fall until you’re alone.

“You can’t speak to me like that!” The woman stomps her foot.

“I can, actually. She,” he points in the direction you’d gone, “is the kindest person I know, and you shouldn’t speak to her that way. I understand the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, but we spend all day helping people like you take these pictures, and the least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

Rather than respond, the woman takes her children’s hands and stomps off.

Steve turns to find that the few families that had been in line before have decided to leave, and he takes the emptiness of Santa’s Workshop as an opportunity to follow after you.

He finds you sitting on the bench beneath your cubby in the break room, head buried in your hands, sniffling a little like you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Steve can’t think about anything other than how much he hates seeing you upset, like a cloud covering the sun.

“Hey,” he says gently, sitting beside you on the bench. “Don’t listen to any of that. She was a bitch.”

You’re both grateful and unhappy that Steve came after you. Grateful because he’s kind, because he’s showing you that he cares. Unhappy because you’re embarrassed of him seeing you like this, because he calls you sunshine and you don’t feel like that right now.

It takes a second before you move your hands, wiping at your cheeks before turning to look at Steve, his brown eyes already on your face, unbelievably soft.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he assures you. “She was awful to you after a long enough day. You have every right to be upset.”

“You’re being really nice,” your voice breaks a little bit, fighting any more tears that threaten to spill.

“I can be nice. I should be nicer to you.” He knows he should, but with Christmas and everything, it’s easy for him to be grouchy. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” you shrug, almost defeated. “I thought you were mad at me today.”

Steve’s heart fucking aches at the sound of your voice, all small and lacking of the light he’s somehow come to like so much. And when another tear slips down your cheek, he can’t stop himself from reaching out and holding your face in his hands, thumbing the tear away lightly.

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, sunshine.”

“Oh.”

His hands are warm where they hold your cheeks, a thumb still tracing back and forth over your skin. Not mad, then.

“I, uh,” Steve looks at where his thumb brushes against you, like he can’t believe it’s there, like he doesn’t want to look into your eyes for the next part. “I got a call from my mom this morning. They’re not coming home this year. Again. I shouldn’t be surprised but… anyways. That’s why I’ve been so quiet and shit today. Not because of you.”

One of your hands comes up to lay over his where it sits on your cheek, tangling your fingers with his and moving your hands down to your lap.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take this stuff out on you just because you like Christmas and I don’t.”

You smile a little bit, a twitch of your lips, but Steve takes it as a win all the same.

“I’m gonna change that,” you say.

“Sure you will,” he replies, the sarcasm in his voice still there the way it usually is when he teases you, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

-

Steve told you to go home after that, assuring you that he’d take care of the few families left, and when you’d opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, you could stay, he’d pinned you with a look and told you again to let him do it.

So, you did.

You’d thought it would be a day at least until you’d see Steve again, but it’s only a couple of hours after your shift ends.

There’s a knock at your door, your apartment one of the ones built above a shop on Main Street, and even though you have no idea who it could be, you get up, sock-covered feet padding against the floor as you go over to answer it.

You’re surprised to find Steve on the other side—one, because you don’t think you’ve ever told him where you live, and two, because you didn’t think he’d want to see you more today than he already had—a bag in his hand and a shy sort of question on his face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand before responding, a nervous gesture that he hasn’t been able to get rid of. “I thought that maybe, after the day you’ve had, you could use some cheering up. I could, too.”

You remember him telling you about the phone call from his parents, and something in your stomach flutters a little when you realize that his plans to cheer up involve you of all people.

“Okay.” You smile, you can’t really help it, “come in, then.”

He does, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes before stepping inside any further. Steve spots your kitchen table easily, and moves to set the bag he’s holding down.

“I thought we could do another thing that might be on your list,” he says. Steve tugs things out of the bag, gingerbread house kits, to be exact. “Gingerbread houses are Christmas bucket list worthy, right?”

“Absolutely,” you search his face, a little confused because last you heard, Steve was not into your whole bucket list thing, but here he is. “And you’re doing this… voluntarily?”

“I have the receipt. I can return them, if you prefer.”

“No! Don’t do that. I just mean- I thought you didn’t like Christmas or my list and that you were just playing along to be nice.”

“I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but,” he shrugs, opening one of the boxes of gingerbread, “you’re a good teacher, sunshine.”

You resist the urge to pinch yourself, like you might be dreaming because Steve, who you’ve grown to like an embarrassing amount, is here, offering to do this with you and giving you a compliment like it’s nothing.

When you respond, you hope your voice doesn’t give away how you really feel. Excited, happy, your heart jumping. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, pointing to the unopened box, “now will you come build this gingerbread house or what?”

“Mine’s gonna be way prettier than yours.”

Steve simply rolls his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile there, too. He’s happy to see that your light is back, that you didn’t let what happened at work get to you too much.

You sit down beside each other at your table, gingerbread kits laid out in front of you. Icing and sprinkles, a cookie roof and chimney. You’re sure it’ll leave a mess, but right now you don’t mind.

There’s a sort of lightness in the air, the knowledge that this thing—friendship, more, whatever it is—between the two of you is something that you’re both happy to bask in. It’s unspoken, and that doesn’t bother you.

You and Steve start by unpacking all of the pieces, yours laid out neatly, his in a leaning pile that makes you bite back a laugh.

“The fucking roof won’t stay on,” Steve says once you’ve both started to put the houses together, and he sounds genuinely annoyed about it.

“Just put some more icing on it,” you say, “there’s no such thing as too much.”

“I don’t think icing will save me now, sunshine.”

You look away from your own gingerbread house over to Steve’s. His hands are holding the roof up, pushing them together so they meet at the top, and he’s staring at the thing with so much determination that you can’t help but giggle.

“You laughing at me?” Steve quirks a brow at you, but there’s a shine in his eyes. They smile even when his mouth doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so seriously,” you laugh, and that smile of his spreads slowly on Steve’s face, blooming like a flower. “It’s alright to admit defeat, Steve. My house is already better than yours.”

“Woah, this isn’t over yet, alright? Mine just needs time, don’t you worry.”

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow without letting go of the roof of his house. “Don’t speak too soon, sunshine. I could be the underdog here.”

You lean over with your icing bag in hand, piping some more into the gap in Steve’s roof. “Here, let me help.”

Steve—always reluctant to accept help of any kind, even the smallest things—lets you. While he watches your face as you pipe the icing, the focus, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips, you take his distraction as an opportunity to move, letting your icing fall onto his hand instead of the house.

“Oops,” you shrug, your tone suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake at all.

Steve gasps overdramatically, then leans closer to you, “Oh, looks like you’ve got something right there.” His hand reaches for your face, and he spreads the icing from it onto your cheek.

“You’re done for, Harrington.”

He only laughs, bright and quick.

Before you know it, you’re having some sort of food fight, putting a dot of icing on Steve’s nose, him tossing sprinkles at you. It’s a mess, but all you can hear is Steve’s laughter, all you can see is his smile. Unguarded for once, free and genuine.

By the time it dies down, there’s stripes of icing on your cheeks, red and green sprinkles scattered about the floor and on the table, and Steve’s got his own patches of icing to deal with.

“You better help me clean this, Harrington,” you say, your giggles still spilling, fizzling out softly. “What are we gonna decorate these houses with now?”

“Mine’s a lost cause,” he admits, the pieces now in a pile the way they’d started.

“So I won, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve looks at you, at the sparkle in your eyes that had been dimmed earlier at work, at the smile that spreads across your face when his eyes meet yours. Fuck. He thinks you’re completely beautiful, icing across your face and all.

His gaze snags on a piece of green in your hair, and before he can think about it, he reaches up and tugs it out for you.

“Sprinkle,” he says.

You look at his hands, messy from the gingerbread houses but never any less strong, and you remember how they felt in yours when you’d been skating. And when you flick your eyes back to his face, he’s already looking at you, gaze dipping to your mouth quickly, like he can’t help it.

And shit, you think. You really, really like this boy.

Before either of you can say anything more, you’re leaning towards each other, meeting in the middle and you’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but you end up with your mouths pressed together.

It’s featherlight at first, testing the waters. Then, Steve’s hands cup your jaw gently and pull you back to him, and you wouldn’t dream of doing anything but follow.

He kisses you again, still soft somehow, but more certain, his lips dancing with yours like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You reach up and grasp his wrists in your hands, feeling his pulse under your thumbs. His heart is racing just as much as yours, you notice. Like your heartbeats have synced to a twin pattern, like this kiss was enough to do that.

And while you’re not sure what will happen after this, you know that something has shifted, that both of you are saying things you’re too afraid to say out loud.

When he pulls back, Steve presses one, two more pecks to your mouth, his thumbs tracing over your skin so lightly you might’ve dreamt it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever think about kissing the same way after you. Steve feels warm the way he does when the sun beams on him in summer, and quickly, he thinks, I could get used to this feeling.

Then, he gets up and finds a small towel in one of the drawers by your sink, wetting it with warm water before coming back to sit with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, using a finger to tilt your chin up, swiping the towel over your cheeks to get rid of the icing there as lightly as he can.

And that’s that.

-

December twenty-fourth is your last day at Santa’s Workshop. Christmas Eve snuck up quick, and tomorrow, the twenty-fifth, the mall will be closed.

You’ve always enjoyed the job, but this year’s been your favorite by far. Usually, you and your coworkers would get along just fine, talking during shifts and laughing but never expanding outside of work, but it’s completely different with Steve.

He knocked on your door with gingerbread houses in hand and kissed you like it meant something. You like him so much that it’s in your bones, this feeling he brings out of you, how special you feel when you think about the trust he’s shown you.

But looking back, you think you were screwed from the start. From his scrunched brows asking you if the bells on the elf shoes were really necessary, to confiding in you about his parents, that list you made that seemed to be the beginning of what things have grown into now.

Green elf hat lopsided on his head, Steve smiles at you from where he stands by the camera. You smile back without thinking, like it’s natural, an instinct.

“Alright,” he says, talking to the kids sitting on the bench with Santa. “Everyone say ‘cheese’ on three. One, two-”

“Cheese!”

The camera clicks, and then it’s onto the next, the system you and Steve have created moving along smoothly, family after family.

If someone told Steve when he’d started this job, grouchy and prepared to pout about it every day, that he’d grow to like it, that he’s realized he’ll miss it when it’s gone, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Never in a million years did Steve think he’d come remotely close to enjoying being an elf, but he has (he still fucking hates the outfit, though). You have everything to do with his surprising not-so-hatred of the job, of his careful fondness growing towards the holidays.

It’s all because of you.

Christmas Eve is a busy day at Starcourt mall, parents rushing about for last minute presents, teenagers taking advantage of holiday sales, and families lined up for their Santa pictures they’d forgotten about until now.

You don’t get breaks between families often today, but once you do, you and Steve are next to each other, making imaginary backstories for random people that pass by, dramatically reading lips of conversations.

The next time there’s an opening, you walk over to Steve, holding up your fist as if there’s a microphone in it. “So, Steve, tell me, how does it feel to have survived December as a Christmas elf?”

“I feel like I should get an award, maybe,” he says into your fake microphone. “I’ve gotten two rashes from this scratchy outfit. Two! And I’ll never hear jingle bells the same again.”

You laugh before clearing your throat and getting back into your news anchor character, “wow. You heard it here folks, North Pole outfits are not luxurious.”

“No, they are not.”

Steve can’t help but grin as he looks at you, as he jokes around with you so easily it feels like he’s known you for years instead of a month. He supposes he has known you longer, but never the way he does now.

“Now, will you be returning to Santa’s Workshop in future Decembers, mister Harrington?”

“Well, that depends,” he says. “I think I’ll require a certain presence to be with me if I come back. Can’t survive it without my doses of sunshine.”

My doses of sunshine.

You’ve never reacted to words the way you do with Steve, but when he says things like that, how can you not react? He compliments you in these indirect ways that only you could understand, and this secret language of yours has your heart skipping, your world tinted-pink.

That one makes you break character, “really?”

“Really.”

Looking up at him, at those soft, melting brown eyes that have always told you more than anything else about him, at the fondness in them, you think about that kiss.

You haven’t spoken about it, but you haven’t felt the need to. It meant something, you know that much, and by the way Steve sneaks touches—a squeeze of your hand, a palm on your back—he does, too.

“You make Christmas better,” he tells you.

He leaves you with that as the next family walks up for their picture, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, his gaze spreading sparkles over your skin.

It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is him calling you sunshine in that soft voice of his he’s only used when you’re alone, but you have to, so it’s back to work you go.

You don’t get to speak much again until your shift is over, the Christmas Eve evening rush swooping in and keeping you both busy.

It’s bittersweet, walking to the back room for the last time from Santa’s Workshop. You’re excited for tomorrow, because it’s Christmas and it’s one of your favorite days of the year, but it’s hitting you now how much you’ll miss seeing Steve nearly every day.

You’ll still see him, of course you will. Whether it’s him getting you to help sneak kids into a movie or maybe something more, something for just the two of you. Either way, you’re at least sure of one thing: Steve Harrington is one of the best people you know.

He’s the first to speak as you step into the staff room. “I have something for you,” he says.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it’s the sweetest thing. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box, a white ribbon tied in a bow around it, a little lopsided, like he’d tied it himself.

You take it from him, smiling down at the box, because no matter what’s in it, he cared enough to get you a gift and that’s what matters, that’s what you’ll hold onto.

“Really?”

“Open it, please.”

You listen, tugging the ribbon loose and opening up the small box. Inside, you find a delicate chain, the pendant in the shape of the sun.

“Steve.” It comes out in a breath, your eyes welling the tiniest bit because this is the best gift you’ve ever received. He’s a gift himself, looking at you shyly, searching your face for a reaction.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his voice soft. “If it’s too much I can-”

“It’s perfect,” you say, and you mean it. “Put it on for me?”

He flashes you a grin, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he nods and takes the necklace from you, undoing the clasp as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

You can feel his warmth against your back as he drapes the necklace over your collar, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp.

“There you go,” he says, taking a small step back to give you room to spin back around to face him.

You look down at the sun pendant sitting against your skin, touching it lightly. Steve’s actions speak volumes, and this one makes you feel so many things. But above it all, you feel like his.

He watches your face as you look at the necklace, the slope of your nose and the softness of your cheeks. The flutter of your lashes and the smile you don’t even try to hide. He’s been resisting the urge to kiss you since he’d done it the first time, but it’s stronger than ever now, with his present around your neck.

Your eyes meet when you look back up at him, his brown ones never failing to show how he feels, and your heart skips with how he looks at you. Like he cares, like he doesn’t intend on stopping.

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingertips gentle as ever when they brush against the side of your neck.

“I love it, Steve, really. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t expect-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his hand shifting to hold yours, fingers lacing with yours easily, “you’ve given me so much.”

Steve doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to get paired with you for this job, how he got lucky enough to have someone look past his slight grumpiness and really see him. You’ve given him Christmas as a whole, erasing bad memories, replacing them with new ones, and he doesn’t think any present could repay you for that.

“Oh wait!” You squeeze his hand before letting go and heading towards your bag, digging until you find what you’d been looking for. You hand Steve a folded piece of paper, “you should have this.”

As he unfolds it, he realizes it’s the bucket list you’d made for him what feels like forever ago, glitter and all. There are activities with check marks beside them, the ones you’d completed, and he shakes his head with the smile he seems to only wear when you’re around.

Very last on the list, your handwriting spells out words that make his chest feel light, his heart full.

‘Make next Christmas just as good.’

Steve finally stops holding himself back and kisses you for the second time, and you’re both certain it won’t be the last.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please please consider leaving a reblog or comment and let me know what you think! it would mean a bunch <3

[junicult]

So... don't know if you have this in the works after your last post, but what would it be like with the bachelors going down on reader for the first time? If you're comfortable with it, that is. 👀

!! the bachelors going down on you for the first time

contains ; soooo much smut. i got so carried away mb y’all LOL. nsfw (minors pls dni.) fem!farmer. oral (f!receiving). praise. established & unestablished relationships. fwb!shane. sexual guiding. inexperienced!sebastian. implied height difference in alex’s.

harvey.

- haha.

- i love this man.

- he is so (i cannot stress this enough) so affectionate.

- absolutely infatuated with you and everything you do.

- as a doctor, he has a lot of people he spends time thinking about: but you are somehow always the main thing on his mind.

- like, tell this man that you did something so minor like stubbed your toe, and he’s carrying you around, forcing you bedridden so he can take care of you.

- well, maybe not to that extent but you get it. you’re the most important thing to him.

- so it’s no surprise that translates to sex as well.

- he only cares about your pleasure, and how you’re feeling.

- before you had sex, he was a nervous mess.

- he wanted it to be perfect :,)

- he didn’t wanna plan it ahead, just kinda hoped it’d all come naturally but surprise he spent the entirety of the day thinking about it.

- it was just supposed to be a fancy dinner date, yet he managed to find you underneath him in his neatly made bed, lips already swollen from his doing.

- “have i told you you’re the most gorgeous woman i’ve ever seen?” it’s corny, cheesy, but oh-so true.

- his fingertips feeling your thighs up your dress, burning into your skin.

- like i said, he��s been thinking about how this night would play out for days. he wants it to be perfect.

- what other way for it to be perfect then him going down on you?

- i’m just saying, harvey on his knees, wide, soft eyes looking up and you while his lips press against your thighs and his cheek rests against your knee.

- his fingers reaching up to slide underneath the waistband of your underwear, doing nothing but tug slightly.

- 😇

- “may i? please?” he nearly whispers.

- and the moment you nod, his lips turn into a soft smile like he’s been waiting forever for that simple gesture.

- he wants you to watch him comfortably, so he props a couple pillows against the headboard so you can look at him.

- loves when you get flustered and tries to hide your face.

- he pays so much attention to your clit. knows how stimulating it is, and especially when he sucks it just right and your hips twitch a little.

- deffffffinitely moans into your pussy 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

- & ruts against the bed lollllll

- uses his fingers too. he’s so slow, and careful, all the while his movements still make your head spin.

- “please don’t stop, ‘m so close,” you whine, eyebrows pinching, and you hardly even realize your fingers that ravel and tug on his soft brown hair.

- he’s shaking his head, as in a silent way to tell you “fuck, i’ll never stop,” as long as he can hear you moan like that longer.

- he’s SOOO EAGER.

- wraps one of his hands around yours while the other lightly presses into your stomach to keep you still.

- doesn’t even care that u nearly suffocate him when your thighs wrap around his head—if anything, he’s in heaven.

- can’t take his eyes off of u. he might just die from the sight of you alone.

- he has to catch his breath when you finally collapse, head lulling to the side.

- he’s literally so hard it hurts.

- pressing into your thigh when he comes up to kiss you make out with you.

- “y’taste so good, don’t you think? so sweet, can’t get enough.” “you’ll let me get some more, right? please? want you, need you so bad.”

sam.

- he’s blunt.

- just straight up.

- he’ll nonchalantly tell you if you have something in your teeth, and then pick it out for you.

- he’s the type to give you genuine input if you tried on a new outfit.

- like, “that looks amazing on you. turn around?” or “hm, it’d look better if it didn’t bunch up like that in the front.”

- zero shame. you know he’s not doing it to be rude, that’s just how he is.

- so, if he’s just lounging around at your house while you work, occasionally popping up to help you with easier tasks, expect him to be his same old self.

- and maybe even take you by surprise.

- you walk in during the evening, ready to change from your clothes and bathe after a long day.

- “hi baby,” he’s already smiling, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and his hands wrapping around your waist.

- he doesn’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way your eyes were slightly lowered from tiredness, or the subtle earthy scent wafting off your body—but it made him much more excited to have you in his arms.

- “you always look so pretty when you finish work.” he sighs, his kisses pressing down the other side of your neck.

- “i do? please,” you snort, shaking your head to dismiss him like you always do.

- but this time, he wanted you to know for a fact just how gorgeous you are.

- “why do you never believe me when i compliment you?” he pouts, leaning to bury his face in your neck.

- it’s the way his soft gaze has your heart thumping a little quicker, and the slight tilt to his head makes your throat threaten to close.

- his lips wrap around yours before you can protest his comment, leaning into you to slightly dip your back over your bed until he’s dropping you both along the mattress carefully.

- “can i show you just how pretty you are? will you let me?”

- he can spend hours kissing you all over. if you have freckles or moles all around your skin, i can assure you he’s kissed every single one.

- i’d like to think that, despite him not being super experienced, he’s still a very loving guy.

- he doesn’t overthink, he’s very carefree, so if he wants to eat you out, he’s going to. obviously with your consent ofc.

- he may not be the best at it, but he does know a lot about you, and since he spends a lot of time with you, it’s easy to see what you like and what you don’t.

- he thinks ur cunt is so pretty. probably embarrasses you on accident by just staring at it LMFAOO

- he’s so gentle when he starts. pressing his hands into your inner thighs to keep them spread, and his tongue is the first to touch you.

- fingers your clit so he can really delve between your folds.

- “taste s’good,” he’ll moan into your cunt.

- btw he’s moaning just as much as you are, he can’t get enough.

- tell him what to do. he likes when you whisper, “just…keep doing that for a second,” or “wait move your hand ba—fuck, right there.”

- it makes him feel so good when he’s doing it right.

- another man who’ll rut against the bed, and may i be so bold as to say he might even cum just from eating you out?

- yes. yes i may.

- he’s so obedient too. i don’t think he has it in him to ever edge you, because he finds that he just can’t stop.

- will overstimulate you more then anything.

- when you cum, he’ll probably be panting just as much as you are. his breath against ur dripping cunt, making to shudder while you catch your own.

- cups your cheek to kiss you again, completely ignoring the fact that your slick is all over his lips.

- he’s in love.

- “thank you for being my girlfriend.” GNNNNN.

shane.

- tbh, y’all probably had sex before u even started dating.

- more then once, at that.

- some of which you were both tipsy after a friday night, coming back to your farm to fuck him in every room of your house.

- you guys were definitely fuckbuddies at first.

- he went down on you a few times during these stages.

- but, as a guy who was a little drunk, horny, and honestly just wanted to get his dick wet—it wasn’t the best he could do. just enough to warm you up.

- he was completely fine with your situation, until he started to realize he was actually falling for you.

- that he wanted to see you outside of just hooking up. he liked when you’d stop by on his way to work, talk to him for a minute. he’d actually look forward to it.

- so when he ended up on your couch again, arms laced and kiss marks already littering your neck, he knew he was going to make this time different.

- your dress rode up just under your bra, his lips sucking your skin down your stomach while you propped yourself against the armrest of the couch.

- he was quick to loop his fingers underneath your panties, tugging them down your legs.

- “someone’s eager,” you tease, having no clue that you’re absolutely right.

- he’s almost desperate. like he has to show you he’s better then what he’s done in the past.

- his arms latch onto your hips, teeth gently biting down on your inner thigh to hear you let out a brief squeal.

- “stay still f’me, okay?” he asks, his breath hitting against your cunt that makes your stomach flutter.

- it’s the way he delves between your thighs that has you stuttering a gasp, instantly ignoring his one request so he has to use minimal strength to force your hips still and thighs apart.

- his lips sucking onto your puffy clit, causing your stomach to clench and immediately squirm under his hold.

- you’re looking down at him like you’re baffled behind pinched eyebrows and jaw wide—which is exactly what he wanted.

- so much so, he can’t even hide his smirk as his tongue slides between your folds to taste you properly.

- “o-oh, fuck me,” you breathe, head hanging back.

- you’re squirming so much, and he’s not having it.

- “can’t you listen to me?” he almost groans, hardly pulling away for his words to become intelligible so the vibration against your clit has you arching your back.

- he’s so messy, uncaring about the slick that’s staining his cheeks and chin.

- loves when you hide your face, mainly because it makes his confidence boost, but he’ll fs call u out.

- “nuh-uh baby, eyes on me.”

- he’ll gently nip at your clit if you look away.

- and he’s teasing you so much, you can feel tears prickle in the corners of your eyes.

- he’ll edge you just so he can start all over, and then overstimulate you so you’ll never forget it.

- will literally leave you breathless, collapsed on your bed after cumming for what felt like hours.

- and he has the AUDACITY to ask, “what? that’s all you got? c’mon, you can give me one more…right?”

sebastian.

- spreading the inexperienced sebastian agenda one post at a time.

- he’s never gone down on anyone before. so genuinely, he has no idea what he’s doing.

- well, okay that’s a lie. he’s not an idiot.

- he knows how stimulating a woman’s clit is, and he knows where it is more importantly.

- but he’s never exactly had one directly in front of his face.

- he’s only ever seen pussy eating in porn, and that’s not the most reliable source. so he’s kind of just depending on you to help him out.

- don’t be shy, either. he wants to learn. he wants to make you feel good.

- his goal: to make you pass out, tbh.

- but baby steps first.

- you’ve already had sex many times before he even proposed the idea of going down on you.

- he’s fingered you before, but even then that’s still new.

- needless to say, you were taken off guard when he asks, “can i go down on you?” after a lazy evening.

- you’re both doing your own thing, with him on his computer and you cleaning some freshly harvested vegetables in the sink.

- “excuse me?” you laugh.

- until you realize he’s not kidding.

- “i wanna learn.” is all he says, before you’re grabbing his hand and guiding him to your bedroom.

- he’s gotten good at knowing how to kiss you, that enough has you warmed up pretty well. you didn’t even have to tell him to kiss his way down your neck, to your stomach before he’s spreading your thighs in front of him.

- he wants to start by fingering you, because he knows how to do that, plus he kinda wants to approach it confidently.

- like i once said. long, thin fingers. he also plays the keyboard…he’s skilled w his hands.

- rests his cheek on your thigh, watching the way his fingers disappear in and out of your wet cunt, and the occasional gasp you let out.

- “what do you want me to do?” almost breathless when he asks.

- when he feels bold enough, he subtly flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit, keeping his fingers moving inside of you while his eyes glance up.

- just the way your stomach clenched from that one simple action has him eager.

- wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

- “s-shit, yeah, like that,” you weakly praise behind multiple stutters and pants.

- he can’t get enough of how your cunt squeezes around his fingers the more he does something your body appropriately reacts to.

- which he loves. it’s like you’re subconsciously telling him he’s doing so well.

- he never realized how much he loves when you tug on his hair until now, mainly because you unknowingly press him against your cunt so he has nothing better then to just lick.

- he doesn’t take his fingers out of you, but he does move them a little so he can finally get a taste of the entirety of you.

- whines.

- he’s practically drunk.

- wishes he wasn’t so nervous to do this beforehand, because fuck you feel so good on his tongue.

- “the prettiest pussy, tastes so fucking good,” he mumbles.

- you probably didn’t even hear him bc he made no effort to pull away.

- stuffs his fingers inside of you, curls them right when you’re about to cum.

- and when you do, he feels on top of the world.

- he’s never seen your body shake like that.

- and now he doesn’t wanna stop.

alex.

- omfffffg.

- he’s a sweetheart, through and through.

- so doting and adoring the longer you get to know him and be with him.

- it’s rare you’ll wake up to make breakfast, or make dinner without his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your head.

- and he’s a little clingy, but that’s just because he loves you so much.

- ur first time having sex w him was early in ur relationship. probably the same day you made it official i’m ngl.

- but he likely didn’t go down on you until a few times after.

- not because he didn’t want to, but lowkey giving or receiving head isn’t his favorite part of sex. as a man w a lot of stamina, he’s fucking you to fuck you. not just eat you out.

- which is why you were a little shocked when you felt his kisses move down your torso, his hands gliding against the sides of your waist as he moves down.

- he also wraps his arms around your thighs to hold you still,

- mainly to show off his muscles.

- oh yeah, he’s not wearing a shirt btw. he never does.

- kinda laughs when you express your nervousness about him going down on you.

- “relax, pretty. just trust me. i’ll stop if you want me to.”

- kisses your thighs, and once he finally takes off ur underwear he’s suchhh a tease.

- like, to the point where you’re dripping, impatiently rocking your hips into him.

- “what happened, baby? not scared anymore? what’s the matter, hmm?” “all needy and i haven’t even done anything, hah.”

- i hate him (affectionately.)

- once he finally touches you where you need him, he’s so fucking slow.

- eyes on you the whole time, his little snarky smirk on his face watching you nibble onto the back of your hand to muffle your moans.

- he waits a minute before he fingers you while licking your clit.

- he feels so fucking good when you give up on staying quiet, letting your back arch and nearly scream out a moan.

- he’s so quick with it, his nice, thick fingers knowing just where to curl inside of you.

- “cum for me, c’mon, know you can do it.” he pulls away to speak.

- he needs to watch you entirely when you cum, so he replaces his lips with his thumb while he rubs your clit and fingers you until you’re sobbing.

- “i know baby, i know. just let it out.”

- he doesn’t stop just yet, but he’ll slow down until you nearly force him away from overstimulation.

- makes u lick his fingers loooolllllll.

- and he’ll make out with you so hard while you’re still trying to catch your breath.

- side note, i feel like he enjoys putting you in lots of different positions. if you weren’t flexible before alex, then u sure as hell are now.

- …probably ate u out once with u sitting on his shoulders against the wall. i’m sayin.

elliot.

- alright now.

- do i even have to say it?

- HE’S A MUNCH!!!!!!!!!!!

- if u don’t think he’s eating u out the very first time u have sex then ur just lying to urself. there’s no way he’d miss this step.

- if you don’t want him to, that’s a different story. he wouldn’t even dream of pressuring you.

- but if you do…u better believe.

- he’s so gentle and sweet, first of all.

- holding your cheek, cupping your jaw while your lips move so graciously against one another’s.

- he’s absolutely kissing his way down, but he’s taking his time, letting you squirm underneath him.

- “you’re just so perfect darling, look so beautiful.”

- kisses ur clit <3

- he’s so slow and gentle, licking you softly and listening to your quiet gasps.

- he swoons when he can hear your breath hitch the moment he starts to pick up his movements.

- he’ll position your thighs on his shoulders and laces your fingers together.

- he’s super responsive. loves when you praise him / tell him you like what he’s doing.

- especially when you feel so good you can’t really speak, so you end up roping your fingers through his hair and tugging it into a loose bun.

- that’s enough to drive him crazy.

- “nngh, c-can’t, s’too much,” you whine, back arches and eyes squeezed shut.

- but your words mean nothing in contrast to the way your hands press against the back of his head, keeping his close.

- he doesn’t even need to use his fingers to make you cum. his tongue is so skilled.

- sucking ur clit like a pacifier 🫡

- he’s also very vocal. he usually coaxes you through sex using his words, but since he can’t while he’s eating u out, he’s just left to moaning uncontrollably.

- and he can’t get over the vibrations making your body shudder every time.

- he gets so excited when you’re close to cumming.

- how you just kind of go silent, jaw locked in aisle nt scream with an occasional whimper pushing through.

- and how you immediately exhale the moment you finish, body nearly collapsing.

- he’s not stopping lol.

- wants you literally shaking, your overstimulation short circuiting your brain so you just fall weak.

- “i’m so proud of you, my love. did so good for me, tastes so good. think you can do it again?”

[toruro]

— ✧ red (k)nights

pairing. xu minghao x reader

description. minghao is your knight in shining armor. literally.

tags. smut (18+), so much fluff, royal au, princess!reader, knight!minghao, secret relationship (kind of?!), minghao’s finger pieces from the super mv …

outfit inspo. minhgao's armor is as shown in the pics, his robes are similar to the light brown ones worn in their inkigayo performance, & reader's robes are of similar design to their 2nd outfits in the super mv!

fic playlist.

w/c. 6.7k

a/n. i'm usually not into royal aus or any au in general that isn't modern, but i had so much fun writing this and i think my mind has changed ... so i hope u enjoy! comments/reblogs are always appreciated c:

“You’re upset,” Eunji notes, walking into your room as sunlight peeks through your silk blinds.

Grumbling, you slowly push yourself off the mattress and lean against the headboard as you rub your eyes. The soft browns and golds of your room are starting to sink into your vision as you adjust to the light, murmuring, “You didn’t knock.”

Eunji sighs, patting her hands down on her apron after setting down your black robe. “Your father doesn’t have any rules about walking in without knocking. And besides, you always lock the door if it’s necessary—if it isn’t locked, I assume it’s alright for me to walk in.”

“What about my rules?” you huff, finally slipping out of bed so Eunji can help you slip into your daytime robes.

“I don’t suppose you’re the king?” she responds as you groggily make your way up to her, your nightgown wrinkling at the ends.

“Eunji,” you whine, throwing yourself onto one of your plush lounge chairs in front of her. “I’m too tired,” you grumble when she points at the robe, again, signaling you to put it on.

“You’re upset,” she corrects, lifting the clothes and unwinding them for you as you begrudgingly stand up and slip off the dress, leaving you only in your undergarments.

“He’s still gone,” you whisper quietly, lifting your arms so Eunji can slip in the sleeves from behind you, moving in front to help tie up the flat, golden drawstrings on the front into bows.

“Away. He is away, not gone,” Eunji says with a pat on your shoulders, adjusting the edges and collar of your velvet robe.

“What’s the difference?” you mutter once she’s done.

“The difference is he will be back,” she explains simply, taking a step back to admire her work. “Now, let’s get you down for breakfast? I wouldn’t want to be caught making you late for your meal by gossiping about your—” she pauses. Eunji is among three of maybe your only friends in the entire kingdom, yet she still bites her tongue, still holds back. You used to resent her for it, but now you understand it’s only natural—after all, it is her job to take care of you, and being careful is just what she has to do. But right now, Eunji is your friend, not your maid, and what she follows with only confirms that fact—“your boy.”

Your lips break into a bright grin at the mere name—your boy. You should feel childish—Minghao is so much more than a boy. He’s a gentleman, he’s strong, he’s confident—he is so much. But after all of that, after his sword is yielded, after all his armor is stripped, Minghao is yours—your boy.

“Will you let me do your hair?” Eunji interrupts your thoughts, holding up a few hair ribbons from your large vanity across the room. You grimace, shaking your head.

“I feel like I might go bald every time you do,” you tell her. Eunji gives you a stern look and you let your shoulders sag. “Fine, but please be gentle. I’m already under so much stress, I can’t have any more pressure on my head.”

“Stress?”

You shrug, a small smirk poking at your cheeks. “Oh you know. Just my boy.”

Eunji escorts you down to the dining hall after raking all your hair into some tight updo. Wincing as you pick at the ribbons, she scurries off when you sit down to order the chefs to present you breakfast.

“Good morning, Princess,” a familiar voice greets, Mingyu placing down a steel plate littered with an array of fruits. “What would you like this morning?”

You watch Eunji who re-enters as you formulate your response. “I’m not really hungry right now, if I’m being honest…” you sigh.

“Don’t let her get away with that!” Eunji calls out from the other end of the room, and you cross your hands over your chest as she walks over. Mingyu gives you a concerned look, and Eunji continues. “She’s saving her appetite for when she plans to sneak out in the evening!” she says in a half whisper, half yell sort of voice.

Mingyu’s eyes widen when he looks down on you. “You actually snuck out that time? I thought you were just bluffing so you wouldn’t have to have breakfast with your cousins!”

“It was both,” you grumble as you roll your eyes. “I’m sorry, but they’re insufferable—the both of them! And then…” your voice trails off, “Mingyu you know your food is great and I love it but there’s this fruit stall down in the civil grounds and—”

“You snuck out for fruit?” Mingyu gasps, stepping back. Pointing at the platter in front of you, he says, “I should have you know these are harvested from the finest farm in the kingdom.” You stick your tongue out at him, glancing at Eunji who is giving you a funny look. Mingyu catches on, and his eyes narrow. “Are you keeping a secret from me? Oh my god—you know I hate being left out of things.”

“You have a big mouth,” Eunji murmurs and you laugh along in agreement.

Mingyu frowns, swiping the platter away from you as you reach for a grape. “Hey! This is no way to treat a princess,” you pout.

“Tell me what’s going on then?” he pleads, and you glance at Eunji who seems to take it upon herself to spill the beans for you. Leaning in, she motions for Mingyu to come closer so you can all lower your voices.

“She went to see her boy,” she whispers.

Once again, you can’t help but let the grin break out onto your face. Your boy.

Fuck, you really miss him.

Him, being the man who followed you many nights ago as you tried to sneak out of the castle grounds. It’d been a boring few weeks and you overheard Eunji gushing to one of the other maids about a festival that took place in the civil grounds.

You’d heard of it before, and even showed up to the festival occasionally over the years, but it was only ever for a sparring moment—to sit and look pretty, wave hellos and goodbyes before you were being dragged back to the castle.

So when you heard that Eunji was planning on using one of her few, sacred days off, you just had to know what was so exciting about it—your temptation exceeded your ability to follow the rules.

Slipping into some old brown robes you used to wear for your dance training, you wrapped a shawl over your head and over the bottom half of your face in hopes to conceal as much of your identity as possible.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. Or, well, maybe you could. You’d fantasized about this moment for ages, never really having the drive to go through with it though. That is, not until now. Still, you’d played this chain of events too many times for anything to go wrong. You had thought about every possible chance of something going wrong, and right now you were certain that you had planned against it.

Foolproof. Your plan just had to be foolproof.

So when you snuck off that night, when the deep oranges of the sunset turned to red and soon to black, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that things would go perfectly fine. That you’d be able to run through the gardens, through the militia grounds, and into the civil grounds, slip in and out of the festival, and back into your bed before anyone could even realize that the princess wasn’t in her bed.

Silly you for not accounting for him.

Him, being the man who was out in the militia courtyards, donned in his training robes as he read a book under the dim light of a flickering, yellow lantern. Him, being the man you thought wouldn’t recognize your figure as you scurried through the pathway and towards the exit to the civil grounds.

You were foolish, and Minghao was perceptive.

You hardly were in the crowd at the festival for more than half an hour before a strong hand tugged at your wrist. Considering yelling for help, you opened your mouth to scream, but not before a large, warm hand clasped over your mouth, trapping in any noises you made. He was gentle with the way he pulled you to a quiet place behind the wall, and even under the dim, crimson glow from the festival, you’re able to make out his face when he finally releases you.

His face was no stranger to your eyes, as his duties as a performance knight had him on and off palace grounds consistently. Xu Minghao. You remembered the name, and watching the scarlet hues fall on his skin, you were reminded of just why his face has not left your mind—why you recall him, and not any other knights.

The redness casted a sharp shadow over him, sharp jawline seeming further whetted under this new glow. Minghao’s dark and shiny hair hung perfectly to shield his gorgeous eyes from the bright lights from around you, and you find yourself growing mesmerized by the way he gazes down at you so … passionately.

Finally breaking the silence that stuffed the space between you, he spoke, “What are you doing here, Princess?” Unexpected of the concern that laces his tone, you were taken aback, mouth falling slightly agape as you wondered why he chose not to scold or reprimand you.

“I wanted to see the festival,” you finally managed to whisper, tearing your eyes away from the handsome man in front of you to look behind at the celebrations taking place all around you. Minghao studied your face for a few pensive moments before sighing and nodding.

He surprised you again with his next, quiet words, “I can show you.”

Looking up at him with bright eyes, you beamed.

Sneaking out to your “fruit stall” doesn’t work, not when Eunji is on your tail. You huff and puff when she sits you down in your room that night, but then she’s whispering into your ear about how his team will be arriving the next morning.

That night, your stomach churns with the anticipation of seeing him, touching him, holding him. It’s been too long, and all you’ve been left with for the past weeks is the ghost of his touch against yours, imagining it’s Minghao when you hug your pillow every night.

You don't get an ounce of sleep, of course, but when you wake up after dozing off to the bright, morning sky, you feel nothing but excitement bubble up in your stomach. You ask Eunji to dress you in your robe of finest silk, and she grins, feigning ignorance as to the reason behind your request.

“This would look nice, don’t you think?” you murmur, holding up a silver dangling hair pin.

Eunji walks over, inspecting the little accessory you’ve picked out. “I don’t understand why you’re putting so much thought into this…he’s seen you in much less,” she mutters and you gasp loudly, nudging her shoulder.

“Y-you said you would never bring that up!” you stutter out, placing the pin back down. The that in question being the time you had snuck Minghao into your room one night and forgot to lock your door. That morning, Eunji was met with the side of a bare chested knight and the princess rolling around together under the sheets, the first person to be introduced to your little secret.

Eunji only hums, looking over your array of jewelry. “The gold would look nicer,” she tells you, ignoring your previous exclamation. She lifts a nearly identical hair pin, except this one is coated in gold, matching the shimmering designs on your robes.

You smile and nod, turning around in response so she can put the pin in your updo. As you continue to go about your morning, there’s an extra jump to your step when you make your way to the militia office. Inside is your father’s head officer, Seungcheol, sitting at his desk as he goes through the papers.

“The demo team comes back today, right Officer?” you ask curiously, stepping in.

Cheol looks up at you, eyebrows quirked. “They came back this morning, yes,” he replies, standing up as he organizes some of the papers in a neat stack. “Excited?”

“No, why would I be?” you say, letting your shoulders deflate a little to hide your very real and very true excitement. Seungcheol gives you a cheeky smile as he adjusts his coat.

“You’re not great at lying.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest nonchalantly as Seungcheol walks out of the room, letting you follow behind.

“Really? Your father is picking up on it too. Tell me to tell him how the demo team is doing. Asks me to let him know if there’s anyone that seems … suspicious.”

You scoff, letting your hands fall to your side, “Well he hasn’t said anything to me about it … yet at least.” You sigh, figuring that if Seungcheol already has an idea of what’s going on, there’s no point in feigning ignorance. “Was I being too obvious when I asked for a whole unit to be moved from the battle team to the demo team?”

Seungcheol laughs. “Yes. Your father is definitely—”

“Suspecting?”

“No, that’s not the right word. I think he seems more open to the idea than you might think. I was just going to say he has a feeling you and one of the demo team’s members are … are involved.”

You hum in response, skipping besides Seungcheol as you make your way to the militia courtyard. “That’s good to hear.”

“I guess. Whether your father approves so far or not, tell your boy—” Your heart flutters when Seungcheol says it like that. “—whichever one he is, to keep in line. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to report any bad news back to the King.”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond, walking outside into the field of grass where some soldiers are lined up in neat rows in front of a black, raised platform where you and Seungcheol are supposed to stand. As you near the group of soldiers, your stomach ties up in a tight knot when you catch sight of the familiar face.

Walking timidly up to the platform next to Seungcheol, you place your hands in front of you, playing with your fingers as you struggle to break your eyes away from Minghao. He isn’t looking at you right now—he isn’t allowed to you.

With his helmet drawn by his side, sword sheathed at his back, crimson armor with gold intricacies glistening under the sun, it’s all too much for you—Minghao in his armor is a force of beauty, and one to be reckoned with.

And he’s standing so straight, so tall, his well built figure being accentuated by the sharp curves of the metal that plates his skin and you start to lose track of Seungcheol’s words. It isn’t until he nudges you in your side when you jump up and out of your reverie, only to see him looking down at you with concerned eyes.

“Princess,” he says loudly, and then much quieter, “Are you alright?”

“I—yes, sorry. It’s just the sun, it’s in my face and I lost track of things for a moment,” you lie, looking back at the knights standing in uniform in front of you.

“Do you want to head back inside? You don’t really have to be—”

“I’ll stay,” you say quickly. “What was it I needed to do?”

“Some last words for them. It’s been a long few weeks, so just say something and formally release them for this week.”

Right. That’s why you’re here. Clearing your throat, you straighten your back, causing the men to all turn their attention to you. Finally, both you and Minghao think. Finally he can look at you.

And fuck, you look so beautiful with your hair pinned back and loose ribbons strewn in, your black and gold royal robes hanging effortlessly off your body with the little bows decorating your waist. Gentle fingers clasped in front of you and Minghao can almost feel your gentle touch on him when you speak.

“Thank you for your excellent performances over the past weeks,” you begin to speak, your eyes doing their best to not linger on Minghao too long. “Your efforts are greatly appreciated, and to express my gratitude, you are relieved of your duties from now until the end of this weekend. Report to your duties the following morning as you would on any regular schedule. Thank you again.” You close with a bow, stepping back and motioning your hand out front as to signal.

“You are dismissed,” Seungcheol calls out loudly, and you see the way the soldier’s immediately drop their shoulders, their gazes averting to each others’ as they break out into loose conversation. Well, all but one. Minghao’s eyes are locked in on yours and you’re finding it impossibly hard to look away.

Looking up at Seungcheol, “Can I go now?”

“Of course. Thank you for showing up. Do you need one of us to escort you back to the castle grounds or—”

You shake your head quickly, eyes flickering to Minghao who is making conversation with one of his platoon members casually. “N-no, that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? You aren’t looking too well. I think it’d be safest if you had one of them help you.”

“I—” you pause, “Okay, I’ll take him,” you say before Seungcheol can make his own decision, pointing at Minghao. Hearing your raised voice, he turns to see your finger in his direction, both you and Seungcheol looking straight at him. Seungcheol looks at you as Minghao walks over, but eventually shrugs.

“Minghao, take the princess to castle grounds,” Seungcheol instructs, throwing you a knowing look. He nods without a word, bowing to you and then his leader as the captain walks away to talk to some other soldiers, leaving just the two of you.

The air is thicker now—it’s filled with all the words you want to say, all the things you want to do, all the thoughts you’ve been thinking and fuck—you really missed him. You need to remind yourself that you’re still out in the open, still in the militia courtyard, still not alone, and you don’t even allow Minghao to do the formal, custom bow and greeting before you turn on your heel and rush away.

Your strides are long but his are longer and he keeps up with your discerningly fast pace, following you out of the courtyard, through the rows of decorated barracks, and off the militia grounds without a word. It’s only when you’re both alone in the small pathway that connects the militia grounds to the castle that you finally allow your pace to rest.

Minghao is the first to speak after glancing around to ensure that the coast is clear, “You seem to have forgotten that you’re the only one who isn’t lugging around 40 pounds worth of armor.” His voice comes out in soft pants, and it’s slightly gruff, but then he’s dropping his helmet to the ground and grabbing your face so he can smash your face into his.

His lips are chapped, moving roughly against yours hungrily, his tongue licking into your mouth as you struggle to place your hands—his armor isn’t the best for clinging onto—so you settle for placing them on his neck. Minghao’s own hands are cradling the back of your head, angling you better as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of your mouth with a passion that threatens to consume you. He tastes of salt and sweat, your own lips sweet with the scent of royal gardens, and it all has you dizzy.

When Minghao breaks the kiss, you feel at a loss as you grapple for him, his skin, his touch against you. “Y-you need to get this off,” you say hastily, knocking on the steel armor that dons his body. You let your fingers trace down the hard material, finally letting them fall down to grasp one of the few exposed parts of his body left—his hands.

“Eager already?” his eyes flicker up at you and it seems to light a flame beneath you. You squeeze his fingers lightly, looking around you to make sure no one has stepped into this pathway yet.

“Whatever.” You pause. “I missed you,” you add quietly, as Minghao leans forward and adjusts the collar of your robes for you, the small gesture making your heart tender. His gaze softens, and he uses one hand to gently stroke your cheek.

“I missed you too. It was so long—I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses, and the admission has your lips pulling into a smile.

“Do you want to go to the gardens?” you ask excitedly, holding his hand up to your chest as you clutch it tightly. “The enclosed one? I’ll ask Eunji to make sure it stays private for the rest of the morning and—” Minghao’s lips pursed into a tight line causes disappointment to well up inside your belly. “What? You don’t want to?”

“No—no, of course I want to, it’s just…” his voice trails off and you look up at him dejectedly. “I need to go to the barracks. I know we have the week off but I still have things to do.”

“Oh,” you murmur, stepping back a little. Minghao frowns, squeezing your cheek lightly with the calloused pads of his fingers.

“You know I want to. I just need to unpack and get this—” he looks down at himself and clanks the metal armor, “—get this shit off and take care of some stuff with Jun.” You nod understandingly, but he notices the ways your eyes droop down just a little. Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he continues. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

Your eyes sparkle at the suggestion. “Tonight?” Minghao nods with a smile, his hand still resting by your cheek, gently stroking your jawline. “The gardens? My room? Where?”

“I actually have a different place in mind. It’s in the civil grounds. It’ll be better if you can come before sunset…” As he speaks, his fingers trail down your neck, running over your collarbone right where the two ends of your robe meet just above your chest. His touch lingers for a few moments, burning trails of fire into your skin as you struggle to keep your heartbeat steady.

“The civil grounds? We’ve never gone there before,” you murmur, voice dripping with curiosity. “At least not since … well you know.” Since the night we met.

“Trust me?” The way he looks down at you with pure adoration makes you feel like he can hear your heartbeat from your chest, shaking the earth under you.

“Before sunset, right here,” you promise.

You can’t quite hide your enthusiasm from Eunji but you also can’t quite care. Nearly jumping off the walls from excitement, it feels like an eternity before the hour strikes seven and you’re whispering to her to cover for you as you slip off the castle grounds and to the little pathway that leads to the militia grounds.

And there he is, your boy, clad in no longer his armor but brown robes which hug his built figure. There is no sword drawn in his back nor is there a helmet clinging by his side, and you grin when you approach him with a smile, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Patting your back gently, Mingao places a soft kiss on your forehead, giving you a warning look as your eyes ask for more. “Not now … not here,” he clarifies, running his hand over your head once, admiring the updo it’s in as he slots his other hand into yours. “Don’t you want to see where I’m taking you?”

You grip his hand tighter and nod as he pulls out a brown fabric from the crevice in his robe. “What’s this for?” you ask as he drapes it over your head gingerly, finally tying the loose ends under your chin.

“Just so you don’t get noticed. We are going to the civil grounds, after all,” Mingaho explains, patting your cheek lightly once he’s done and pulling you to follow after him as he leads the way. You’re both quiet as he leads you carefully through the paths of the militia grounds, finally sneaking you out through a side gate.

Minghao quietly pulls you through the winding streets of the civil grounds where the atmosphere is bustling, with vibrant colors, loud voices, and an endless amount of people flooding the pathways. It’s new, of course, but with the sun hanging low above you, Minghao’s warm hand encased around yours, and the promise of a good night in your mind, you feel oddly comforted.

You’re led through the crowds, Minghao holding you close to his side until he stops at the base of one, tall building, leading you through an alleyway and to the back where there’s a narrow staircase leading to the roof. With a hand on your back, he guides you up the stairs, still keeping close as he follows carefully behind you.

“This is Jun’s family’s old shop,” he explains as the distant sounds of laughter and music grow fainter. “They’ve moved buildings now, but me and Jun come here sometimes with friends because this one is really tall and … and well you’ll see,” he murmurs as you finally reach the top.

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist as you both walk onto the rooftop which is lined with a fence style barrier. The ground is covered in old rugs and there are some sacks and boxes strewn around. Walking over to the edge with Minghao, you gasp softly at the sight around you. The civil ground sprawls beneath you, and as you look up, you can see the castle against the blooming oranges and reds of the sky—it’s beautiful.

“This is … wow … this is really pretty, Hao,” you say, and his hold on you tightens for a second before letting go so he can turn around. He walks over to one of the boxes, rummaging through its contents before pulling out a few linen sheets and a lantern, setting it down on the rugs.

“Come, sit,” he instructs as he lays out the sheets, placing the light on top. You follow, smoothing your robes before sitting next to him and leaning into his shoulder so he can wrap an arm around you. Looking up, you watch the sky turn into a hue of orange so deep and vibrant that it’s nearly red.

“You really can’t get a view like this from the castle,” you say with a sigh as Minghao uses one hand to light up the lantern.

He hums in response, pressing a kiss to the temple of your head. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been meaning to bring you here for a while.” You turn to look up at him with a big grin, finally pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It’s short and sweet, and although you really are aching for more, you suppose you’ll settle for this right now. After all, you do have all night.

“This is beautiful,” Minghao tells you when you pull away, fingers brushing over the golden hairpin you stuck into your updo early in the morning.

“Eunji picked it out for me…”

He smiles at you gently, hands disappearing into the folds of his robe. “I love it. I actually wanted to show you something,” he says, pulling out a small object clasped in his hands.

Opening it up in front of you, on his palm sits a shiny, finger shaped accessory, gleaming with a hue that perfectly matches your hairpin. It vaguely resembles the figure of Minghao’s own fingers, and you run your fingers over the cool metal, tracing over the delicate patterns carved in.

“What’s this?”

“A prize. The kingdom was holding a competition for the different demonstration units, and as the leader of the unit that won, I was made this,” he explains, rubbing his own fingers over the accessory. Wordlessly, he slips it onto his middle finger and holds it up in front of you to see it more closely. As your vision zones in on the golden piece, you notice a shift in Minghao's eyes—a darkening intensity.

“Hao,” you whisper quietly, and then he’s bringing the decorated finger up to your face and pressing the cool metal against your lips. Gasping, you lean forward instinctively, your mouth wrapping around the piece instinctively. His hand in your mouth, you can smell him, although the taste of iron against your tongue is unfamiliar. New, but not unpleasant.

“You have no idea,” Minghao begins to say, pressing his fingers down on your tongue firmly, “how long I’ve been thinking about this.” You can’t respond, not with the way your mouth is stuffed, but you honestly don’t need to. The way your tongue swirls over his digits and teeths at the accessory is enough to tell Minghao that you’ve been aching for this just as long as he has. “Do you want to…try something?” he asks tentatively, slipping his slick fingers out carefully.

You don’t need to think about your answer, not with Minghao. You’d trust him no matter what, follow him anywhere, let him do anything to you. Your fingers toy with the ribbons of your robes as you nod eagerly, and he helps you untie them from your side. The cloth hangs loose from your shoulders now, the gap at your chest spreading now and leaving you bare.

The golden piece is still on his fingers, and as he trails his hands down the curve of your tits, pressing against your stomach and dipping in between your legs, Minghao watches your face contort into pleasure. The cool metal pressing against your warm cunt has your soft breaths turning into harsh pants as you grab his firm bicep, legs spreading instinctively.

Quickly, you glance around you, but Minghao quells your worries when he presses his lips against your neck and murmurs, “Don’t worry angel, we’re too high up for anyone to see.” His fingers are gliding between your folds as he sucks against your neck, and you know he wants to be sweet with you, wants to take his time, wants to be the patient gentleman he is, but it’s been far too long.

“Minghao,” you moan when his thumb brushes against your clit. “Wanna feel you,” your murmur, nudging his face in the crook of your neck with your own. He chuckles into your skin, licking a hot stripe over your skin before nodding. It hardly takes him a second before he’s circling your slick hole and pressing in.

The hard accessory is a new feeling—this isn’t the same as the familiar pads of Minghao’s long fingers rubbing against your plush walls, but you can’t say you don’t like it. Whining into his mouth as he kisses you, your hands roam Minghao’s body, tugging at the ropes of his robe around his torso.

As you aimlessly try to shuffle his robe off of him, Minghao starts to plunge his fingers in and out. Shrugging his robe off his shoulders, you’re finally able to press your palms against his hard chest, breaking away from the kiss so you can admire him. “You like it?” he asks amusedly as your mouth hangs wide open when he presses his fingers in extra deep with one thrust. Your head lolls back heavily, the finger piece adding an extra layer of thickness that you aren’t used to.

“Feels s’good,” you say softly, the moans getting caught in your throat when he speeds up his movements. “Love your fingers …” You take a deep breath before continuing. “Love y—you!” you whimper unexpectedly when you feel your orgasm creep up on you unexpectedly quickly.

“Are you gonna cum, princess?” Something about the way Minghao calls you princess is different from others. Maybe it’s the way he isn’t calling you that because you are the princess, but because you are his princess. His sweet girl, falling apart at the palm of his hand as he rubs your sensitive nub and continues to finger fuck you until you moan his name. His name falls from your lips like honey, sweet and thick as he kisses you passionately and doesn’t stop working you through your orgasm until you’re squirming in his hold and pawing at his pants.

Slipping out his fingers, Minghao holds the shiny accessory up, and it seems to shimmer even more now, coated in your wetness and reflecting the pretty red tint of the sky. Gently pulling the piece off his finger, he sets it to the side. “How was it?”

You smile hazily, still recovering from your much awaited orgasm. “I loved it … felt different but I loved it,” you tell him honestly, shuffling over on his lap as your robe falls completely off your body, leaving you in nothing but panties. Minghao’s breath hitches at the sight, and you grin as your fingers make their way to the firm waistband of his brown pants.

He’s quick to catch on, enveloping your lips in a kiss as he pulls his pants and boxers off in one go, hard cock springing free and hitting your thigh lightly. You feel the warm precum leak against your skin as you shift closer, your stomach pressing against his now that you’re both completely bare and more desperate than ever.

Minghao's arms wrap around your torso, one hand going down to line his thick tip up with your folds, letting himself get coated in your wetness. "You ready, angel?" he asks when your mouths break apart from each other, his pretty lips red and swollen. Your eyebrows pinch together when you feel his cock prodding at your entrance and you nod vigorously. “Words, princess, use your words.”

“Yes, Hao, ‘m ready,” you moan when you feel him press against you, letting your head fall to his shoulder. “So ready, so, so ready,” you continue, not being able to control yourself when you press your own hips down. Minghao gasps at the feeling of you sinking on him, warm walls hugging his cock and fuck, he realizes how much he missed you.

Realizes just how much his fist falls short of your perfect pussy—long nights of being without you so he to resort to jerking himself off to the thought of you but none of that compared to the feeling of you whining his name on top of him, hands clutching at his arms as you try to adjust to his size.

You’re also having your own moment of epiphany now too—realization that your fingers were not enough, and will never be enough. At least, not after you’ve felt Hao’s cock inside of you—one thrust in and he’s already hitting all the right spots and having you writhe on top of him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Minghao groans when your ass settles fully on his lap, his cock pressed into you, balls deep, as your fingers lace into his hair and grab at his soft locks.

“Oh—oh m-my god, Hao,” you whimper when he shifts inside of you. The pain that once came from his size is now morphing into a white, hot pleasure that ripples through your spine as you lift your hips up halfway before letting them fall back down. “So—s’big,” you gasp out when his fat tip nudges against your cervix.

Minghao feels his cock twitch inside of you at your words, using his hands to guide your body so you can move and bounce on top of him with less effort. Your cunt is so tight around him and his eyes press shut tightly when he hears you call out his name. “Doin’ so good for me princess,” he praises when you roll your hips against his.

Both of your movements aren’t fast nor extravagant but it’s the way he’s so close to you, skin melting into one other as you share your breath and exchange moans. Bodies moving in sync as you drink in the velvety moans, your nose nuzzles into his when your thighs start to cramp up. “Hao …” you call out as his cock punches the air out of your lungs. “…’m tired,” you mewl, your hips stuttering into his.

His hand cradles your neck as you both still, murmuring, “I got you angel.” Swiftly, Minghao flips you over so your back is pressed against the sheets and he’s on top of you, arms on either side of your head to hold himself up. One hand comes up to hold your cheek as he starts to move again, taking control of the thrusts now.

Stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, he ruts his hips into yours, cock and pussy jamming together in a sloppy mess as you feel that knot in your tummy start to tie up again. “Missed you s’much,” you confess as heat flourishes through your body.

“Missed you too angel,” Minghao returns almost immediately, letting the snap of his hips become more sharp and forceful, your body jerking back and forth with each movement. Your eyes flicker between Hao’s pretty face, coated in a sheen layer of sweat, and the night sky that begins to loom into a dark purple, revealing the stars. “Gonna have to fuck you every single night now that I’m back,” he grunts when you squeeze around him extra tight, letting himself drop down onto his elbows.

You shudder at the idea of having Hao’s cock inside of you every night, and you aren’t sure if your pussy can handle the pleasure. “I’ll—fuck—” you gasp between the words, “—I’ll sneak you in e-every night.”

“Yeah? Eunji’s not gonna get mad when she sees your door locked every morning?” he chuckles, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, biting down on your lip as your feel the knot being pulled and tugged inside you. “Fuck—Hao, ‘m so close, so, so close … Are you close?” you ask dazedly, lips puffy and eyes wide as you look up at him. And looks so sexy with the way his brown eyes watch you intently, his muscles flexing with every movement and Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tries to hold off his own orgasm.

“Yeah, ‘m close angel, your pussy so good,” he slurs as he meets your lips for a tongue tying kiss. And slowly and carefully, you both start to unwind, your orgasm hitting you first from the overstimulation of your first that never quite ebbed away, Minghao’s following suit as you let out whimpers moans of his name into his mouth, cock twitching before filling you to the brim with his thick ropes of cum.

Your ears ring of white noise for the next few moments as thrash against Minghao, your bodies melting into one until he finally breaks away from your lips, leaving you both as a tangled mess of limbs. You’re breathing heavily into each other and you can’t quite comprehend what’s going on until he whispers your name into your ear, eyes shooting back to life.

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing your earlobe before lifting his head so he can look at you intently.

“I love you,” you say, without a second of hesitation. He’s still inside of you, and now you’re hyper-aware of the growing mess that sits between your legs. Minghao kisses your nose as you look down when he finally slips out of you, a small noise of complaint leaving your lips. Inhaling deeply, you sit up. “You’re going to live up to that promise, you know,” you say shyly when he looks at you, sitting up as well to grab his robe. “You know … every single night.”

Minghao grins. “Of course I will.”

“Can I hold you to that?” you ask slyly, intertwining your fingers with his.

Minghao rolls his eyes, palm pressing against yours. “Guess we’ll just have to try ‘n’ find out.”

[lueurjun]

enemies to lovers with yeonjun

yeonjun x reader — in which you hate him and assume he hates you back, until you realise that maybe he never hated you at all. it’s a long one! requests are open if you want something specific <3

choi yeonjun is the bane of your existence

his mere presence— oof. it infuriates you for no reason

it wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t have to see him everyday

but unfortunately you do

because he’s your brothers (soobin) best friend and has been practically adopted by your family

dear soobin simps feel free to change your brother, i get it bae i totally get it

you can’t catch a break he’s practically moved in at this point

you’re tired of seeing this boy everywhere you look

cant you just go downstairs at 3 am for a glass of water without finding him shirtless in your kitchen munching on a sandwich??

your parents have more pictures of him in your house than of you

#favouritism

#hesthechildtheyalwayswanted

your hatred for him started when you were eight years old

it even caused a rift between you and soobin bc your dumbass bother picked HIS side over yours

#evenmorefavouritism

#justicefory/n:(

what did he do?

PURPOSELY spilled his grape juice all over the front of your trousers making it look like your eight year old self pissed yourself

on a park with fellow kids your age who are mean as hell

you got bullied pretty bad after that and though time moved on and they forgot, you never did

it stuck with you

get behind me i’ll rip his hair out

say the word and i’ll fight him for u

anyways from that day on you DETESTED him

and he’s dumb so he has no idea why but instead of asking

he decided to dislike you back because in his mind that’s the most logical thing to do

what an idiot am i right?

a handsome one tho;)

sorry:( we dislike him rn i still got ur back

constant squabbling over the smallest things because he didn’t know when to shut up and you just hated his face

but not really because if you swallowed your pride just a tad you would admit that you do see the handsomeness within him

don’t worry bae you can admit that you’d jump on his bones if you didn’t hate him so much

ahem. anyways.

you cannot stand him because he’s the devils spawn and he doesn’t deserve your praise

until you’re set to go to prom and you have a really cute date with someone you’d had a crush on for a really long time

yeonjun of course makes a comment about your appearance but you don’t even care

because you have a date with someone special

and he has to attend with soobin so who’s the real loser?

not him my love id love to go with soobin

they leave and you wait back for your date to pick you up

time is ticking by and you’re starting to get a little nervous

your parents are starting to look at you in sympathy and you absolutely want the ground to swallow you up

because you’ve been stood up and it becomes apparent when an hour has passed and still no show or text and you’re starting to feel insecure and stupid

ur perfect bby lemme at ‘em

just when you’re about to hang up your outfit and hide beneath your duvet covers

the doorbell rings and you spring up with immense happiness

because your date hasn’t forgotten you after all

only when you answer the door it isn’t your date

rather yeonjun?? standing with flowers?? and no soobin in sight??

your parents are literally cradling each other in awe

and you’re like ??

“i know being stood up sucks for you but it’s the perfect opportunity for me to make right whatever wrong i did… and ask you to be my date…”

he sounds nervous?? genuine??

there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes that you just don’t have in you to crush

so you accept the flowers and press a kiss to his cheek before eventually taking his arm

“i kinda don’t wanna go to the prom anymore… can we just go get something to eat? unless you wanna go?”

he seems kinda surprised for a second but then he grins with that stupid little twinkle in his pretty little eyes that admittedly have you swooning

“i’d prefer that honestly”

so that’s exactly what you do

yeonjun drives to a mcdonald’s and he pays for your food and then you just sit in the car park

together

and for as long as you’ve known him you have never actually hung out with him one on one for longer than fifteen minutes

but somehow it’s not awkward?

you both swing into subtle jokes and he even throws in a few flirty comments here and there

which takes you by surprise but what shocks you more is that you don’t mind them??

you retaliate to them but with the same flirty undertones

flirting in a mcdonald’s car park dressed to go to prom

that’s so romantic get out

the bar is in hell i know

don’t even @ me i need a moment rn

i ship u both. get married pls

anyways after eating until your stomachs felt full and there were tears of laughter in your eyes

the dreaded question rolls around

“why do you hate me?”

way to ruin the vibes yeonjun

“because you suck”

i rate the honesty babe

“ok sure i deserve that i think- but what did i do? you never used to hate me when we were kids”

you’re a little annoyed now

because how does he not remember the incident that has stuck in your mind for years?

“do you seriously not remember?”

and he shakes his head looking all clueless

which makes you feel a little embarrassed because had you just been dramatic this entire time?

maybe a little but it’s valid. i back u 100%

get his ass you sweet thing!

“you spilled grape juice all over my jeans at the park and told everyone i peed! i got made fun of for so long after that! it was mean!”

the vibe has been completely ruined now

well done yeonjun

speaking of yeonjun, he feels terrible

he remembers that incident back when he was an absolute menace

he still is but not as bad

what makes him feel worse is that you’ve only ever attacked him due to the hurt he caused you

meanwhile, he was just as mean back in retaliation

his world was literally crumbling

“and soobin took your side! you took my street cred and my brother!”

i’m soobin’s lawyer. he didn’t mean it

okay sorry! i still have your back!

“i’m sorry—truly. i didn’t realise how much it would hurt you or that you held a grudge—”

“maybe you should’ve asked.”

“i know. i’m sorry. i know nuggets won’t help but you can have an extra one of mine…”

you wanted to stay mad at him

but with the way his big eyes stared back at you whilst he held up a nugget as a peace offering

there was something oddly adorable about it

you take it from him because duh? who wouldn’t?

i mean vegans probably wouldn’t—

if you’re a vegan i’m so sorry imagine you’re eating something else

“why did you decide to take me to prom?”

you can’t help but ask the question that’s been prodding at you since you left the house

“saw your jackass date with someone else and soobin felt bad but he had his own date so i said i’d come get you…”

oh.

so it was just a favour for soobin

ok :D that’s fine

not tho is it bae? you lyin?

apart of you hoped that he asked you because he wanted to

perhaps the disappointment showed on your face because suddenly he starts stuttering

but you shake your head and force a smile

me in the mirror after an emotional breakdown :P

“let’s go then. he’s probably wondering—”

“no. that was a cop out.”

pussy

you just gape at him waiting for him to carry on

because what else are you meant to say?

“i wanted to ask you to be my date a while ago but you hated me and to be honest i never hated you, i just felt… i don’t know… bitter i guess? and that’s no excuse. i’m a dick and i know it. but when i saw your date with someone else, i knew it had to be some kind of sign that you were meant to attend the prom with me.”

okay romcom confession KING

go off

before you can comprehend anything, he carries on with his ramble

“i’m so sorry for the hurt i inflicted on you when we were kids, and for the way i’ve behaved since then. i know it won't make up for everything, but if you let me, i will spend every day of my life trying to make it up to you. Even if it takes forever for your feelings of hatred towards me to diminish or disappear altogether, i’ll wait - and hope that one day, i can prove myself to be a worthy partner for you.”

someone grab a bucket i’m gonna be sick ( i’m sliding down my wall crying rn )

i’d fold in an instant

kdrama yeonjun GO OFF

you kinda just sit there like a lemon for a sec

because wot?

literally like what is going on?

“you’ll have to grovel.”

“i will. believe me.”

“and you won’t hurt me?”

“never.”

there’s this look in his eyes that you haven’t seen before

a determined and genuine look that has you feeling quite assured

the grudge against him is still there, of course, it’s not just going to go away

but it’s not as strong and you find yourself feeling rather excited

“then consider this our first date. the first step to making things right.”

yeonjun is a little wary as he takes your hand but the nerves settle when you don’t recoil from him

hesitantly he kisses your knuckles with a grin

“to making things right.”

surprisingly, you’re thankful your date stood you up

but no one is thankful as yeonjun

gosh why do i do these? i literally make myself cry

[fashionteahouse]

yes! yes! yes! yes! yes! yes! yes! we want moreeeee queen leahh plss

but make it with female reader 🥺🥺🥺

i know deep down she likes girls and no onw can change my mind

🥑anon

as u wish 🥑anon! hope you enjoy :)

what a girl wants - leah x fem reader

Closing her eyes, her hands wrapped around you as she returned the hug.

Stepping out, she was able to take a look at you to see how long she hasn’t seen you.

After high school, you had moved away. She wasn’t surprised. You were the friend in her group who had aspirations for the future, always talking about what you were going to do as soon as you would be able to leave your hometown.

It seemed as though the real world treated you nice, you looked happy. You looked more womanly since the school days. More alive.

“I’m so happy to see you, Lee.” you warmly say as you take look at your old friend.

Her cut hair made you envy how well she could pull it off. You always thought she was a beautiful young lady.

“Same to you.” she says to you before swallowing. You never made her nervous before. She wanted to know what the difference was with this time.

“Congratulations on your mom!” you tell her, speaking of the thing that brought you back here in the first place.

Receiving an envelope in the mail, you were happy that your friend’s mother was getting married. You hoped she would experience happiness after the hardship of being a widow.

“Thanks. She’s crazy over him.” Leah says, rolling her eyes but in a playful manner.

“That’s good.” you say.

It seemed as though you never left. Seth now had another person to annoy. You weren’t as annoyed, knowing you haven’t seen him in a long time. Plus, you kind of missed his sunshine.

Your fingers rhythmically softly drummed along the steering wheel. Finding out that Leah hasn’t picked out her outfit yet, you were relieved that you weren’t the only one.

Leah sat rigid in the passenger seat. Thoughts kept beating up the front of her head as she wondered why things weren’t like the last you were here.

“Do you miss it here?” Leah ask as the sun ray kissed an angle of your face. Her stomach fluttered at the sight of your thinking face.

“Hm. A bit.” you say with a soft smile and peek at her in the corner of your eye.

Leah didn’t know what else to say, she let her eyes fall to the rest of you. She didn’t realize how much she was drinking you in with her eyes until the light turned green and the car jerked back into motion.

Leah didn’t know how to act normal. It was nighttime and time for bed. The big day was tomorrow.

Her eyes couldn’t look away as you lifted your shirt off and changed into a night shirt. You look to her being frozen.

“Are you okay?” you ask as you pulled the pants that you wore, down.

“Nervous.” Leah answers.

This makes you softly chuckle.

“I get it.” you say, referring to the ceremony that were to happen the following day.

Leah slides into bed as she turned over. You just wore the shirt, feeling like it was warm enough for not having any bottoms. This made Leah’s eyes squeeze shut.

You turn to her, lay super close to her back that was facing you, and you tap her shoulder.

She turns over and she suddenly hated being able to see well in the dark. Your face pulled her in as she watched you slowly form a smile, “How have you really been?” you whisper.

Leah couldn’t do anything but one shrug with one shoulder, but she remembered that you couldn’t see her.

She takes in a breath, “It’s been sucky.” she admits.

A hand is placed on her for support, “It will get better.” you whisper.

“I don’t know. People are only dealing with me because they have to.” she whispers back.

“Who?” you question as you scoot closer to her.

“It doesn’t matter.” she whispers as she turns onto her back and look to the darkened ceiling in her bedroom.

“It does.” you say. She doesn’t say anything. She blinks. You place a hand onto her cheek as you move her face to make her look at you, you don’t take it off.

Leah watched you breathe. Leah scoots over with her nose close to the crook of your neck. She closed her eyes. The smell that emitted from you was nice. You reach over to place a small kiss on her cheek before laying back onto your spot.

It felt like a thousand fireworks burned in that spot for Leah. She reciprocated the action to you. You smile at this and she’s glad that she can see in the dark, glad that she’s able to witness such as you. You soothingly, caress your fingers through her hair.

Leah didn’t realize anything about where her lips were going as they pulled back from yours. Your eyes were closed, as you took time to feel the feeling she gave you. You found yourself liking it. She was beautiful. You lean forward to her as you both were soon lip locked.

Leah had never kissed a girl before, but she felt like she had done it time and time again. You both fell right into rhythm. Both set of hands felt each other quietly. When you arched yourself onto her, she pauses.

Breathing heavily a bit, “What’s wrong.” you whisper with concern.

“Nothing.” she says. You then pull her back to you. Leah lets you. It was different but it felt nice.

Placing her hand on your perky boob, you pressed it to you so she could cop a feel. It felt soft in Leah’s hand as she felt under. It was hard to be quiet. You both tried your best.

“I want to see you.” you whisper to her, almost out of breath. Leah flicked the light on. It enhanced what she had seen in the dark. Nothing in but your underwear, you wet your lips with anticipation as she pulled what she had on off.

You both thought each other felt so soft. Leah didn’t expect herself to fall apart so easily. Curious touches of each other’s bodies soon turned to tasting. Leah held her mouth as your tongue glided on her naked chest.

She held onto your head as you lapped at her. You haven’t done it before but you took your time to get to know her body. You were glad it was her. She was glad it was you. What was building up since you got there was being poured out. She felt like she didn’t have to hold in such feelings anymore.

The morning was silent.

You got dressed as if nothing happened. You didn’t want to make things awkward.

“Hurry up because I will leave you.” you say to Seth as you picked ip your keys. Seth comes down the stairs, adjusting his tie, “I’m here. Happy?” he asks.

Leah didn’t pay attention to the bickering. She thought that the feelings that were built up would leave. They didn’t. She couldn’t take her eyes off of you.

Leah did give her mother the grace of her attention as she walked down the aisle to her second, now husband.

People were celebrating the new couple. Leah couldn’t bring herself to dance like everybody else at the reception. She just sat in a chair and discreetly watched how you interacted with everyone. You were carefree and she knew that you wouldn’t be happy in her life that she deemed as miserable.

Leah gets up with tears prickling her eyes as she caught herself watching your hands. Flashes of the previous night started to creep into her brain. She remembered how talented those hands were. Those hands kept up with her as she remembered the feeling of your body on hers.

She goes straight for the bathroom. Sniffling in a stall, tissues kept getting wet as her cheeks started to feel sore from repeatedly wiping them.

She pauses as she hears the bathroom door open. A soft knocks on the stall that she was in.

“Someone’s in here.” she says coldly, upset that someone was interrupting her sulking session.

“I know that.” you say from outside, chuckling to lighten the air.

Leah sighs as she hunched her shoulders.

“Are you okay, Lee?” you then ask.

“No.” she says. She unlocks the lock of the stall door before stepping out.

“I’m not.” She finishes as she wipes the remaining tears. You worriedly look at her red eyes.

“What’s-“

“I’m not gay!” she exclaims. You look down. “Okay.” you state to her.

“So, I don’t know why I feel this way about you.” she says quietly.

You look back up to her eyes closed in defeat. You move in to hug her. She surprised you by hugging you back. You expected her to push you away. She just couldn’t.

Her face is in your shoulder. “I feel something for you too.” you softly confess. She lifts her head and makes one last sniffle. “You do?” she asks quietly.

“Yes, but I understand if you don’t-“ you start but it was all that she needed to hear. Your face was crushed to hers as she poured what she felt out into you.

Holding your hand tight, she felt at ease. Your smile warmed her heart as she was glad that the scary part was over. She was worth coming back for. You were sure of it. All you have wanted was each other.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

Hi 🥰 idk if u remember me but im rainb0wdrafts from ao3! Saw on your bio that ure taking request soooo uhmm can I request a fluffy / smutty wanda x fem reader fic based on a song Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko? 🥺 or if ure not feeling that particular song, any song that would inspire u from her Expectations album.

P. S.

still cant wait for the ending of Sparkling Scarlett. I’m having mixed emotions about it rn JSKSKSLLSLS

𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑜𝑢

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you try to get your mind off of Wanda in a crowded nightclub, and she finds you there and eases your cravings for her.

content warnings: smut, fingering, cunnilingus

word count: 4.3k

masterlist

A/N: omg hiiii!! i totally hadn't listened to that song before, so i listened to it on repeat while i figured out the vibes and plot line lol. i was basically feeling nightclub vibes with wanda and fem!reader going feral for each other. i hope you like it ◡̈

you literally cured my writers block so thank u 🙏, i really don't want Sparkling Scarlet to end either😭

photo cred: me, i literally made the photo in photoshop lol. anyways.

The nightclub reverberated with an electric energy that filled every inch of the air. A symphony of pulsing lights painted the space in vibrant hues, dancing in synchrony with a mesmerizing blend of bass-heavy rhythms. It resonated in the bones of those who stood on the crowded dance floor. 

You danced along, your body swaying to the pounding tempo as your feet started to tingle, the vibrations palpable in the stifling air. The atmosphere was a sensory overload, a place where time blurred, and your inhibitions dissolved as your friends brought you yet another shot. 

Shooting down the clear liquid, you grimaced at the taste, attempting not to cough it back up as your friend patted you on the back. Looking up, you saw Kate’s already flushed face as she lazily scanned the room. 

“Just go and find her already,” You said, feeling your senses starting to dull as the vodka left a pleasant burn in your chest. “I promised you I’d be here as a wingwoman tonight!” 

Kate looked over at you, her face giddy with the anticipation of finally talking to her long-time crush, Yelena. You laughed, grabbing the slightly crumpled water bottle from her grasp and uncapping it. Forcing the bottle against her lips, you watch her gulp down the water. 

Hastily pulling the bottle away, you take a few sips before screwing the cap back on. “Don’t gulp it all down Kate, you’ll get sick that way.” You chastised, only half joking. You really didn’t want to spend another night holding Kate’s hair as she spewed her guts into a nightclub toilet. 

Gently shoving her away, you gave Kate a light pep talk. It mostly consisted of complimenting her outfit, as she’d stressed about it all day. You had helped her pick the dress, a stunning knee length fabric that shimmered with each passing ray of multi-colored light. Kate spun in a small circle as you showered her with compliments, before finally turning away and laughing, her eyes scanning the room for Yelena. 

“But wait!” Kate exclaimed, swaying slightly as she gripped your upper arm tightly. She struggled to focus on your face, finally making eye contact. “You haven't had enough alcohol to get your mind properly off of her yet.”

You sighed, letting out a breath into the already warm air. The atmosphere dimmed slightly, the stale air swirling around you as you remembered the true reason you’d let Kate drag you along. In all honesty, you’d never been much of a party girl. You always preferred a night in, sipping tea as you watched a sitcom with your girlfriend. 

And there it was, the one thing you’d been trying not to think about.

Shooting Kate a look, you shook your head. “I don’t think alcohol is going to help much.” She gave you an apologetic look, and you gave her a slightly firmer push towards the dance floor. She turned slowly, and upon seeing a flash of dirty blonde hair, quickly left your side in pursuit. 

Turning back towards the bar, you squinted against the flashing lights, already feeling a headache coming on as the vibrant mix of reds and blues swirled against the walls. Pushing through a tangle of sweaty, dancing bodies, you snagged a seat towards the end of the bar. You ordered a shirley temple (you really did miss Wanda), and sat back against the wall. Choosing to give your eyes a rest from the mass of bodies dancing in an uncoordinated pattern, you let your eyes unfocus as you stared into the dark red of your drink. 

Wanda had unfortunately been called away, her position as head of her company demanding more hours as the summer season hit. She’d left immediately after a late night phone call, grabbing her pre-packed bag and sweeping out of your shared home. She’d promised that it wouldn’t be too long of a trip, and that she’d call you every day. That was three weeks ago. 

She did call you every day, but spoken words weren’t enough for you. You wanted to be held by her, falling asleep in her arms as she laughed along quietly to the sitcoms playing in the background. You wanted to kiss her again, like it was the last time you’d ever embrace her lips with yours, frenzied and passionate. The sound of her voice through a phone, knowing she was miles away, couldn’t compare to the way she would hold you close with your breaths intermingling as you pulled each other impossibly closer. 

Fuck, you missed her with every fibre of your being. 

Shaking off your suddenly melancholic thoughts, you scanned the room for Kate. The mess of brown curls was lost in the sea of moving bodies, and you focused on the first flash of blonde you saw. Upon seeing Yelena, you smiled at the sight of Kate standing mere inches away from her. Your mission was accomplished, and all you had to do was not think about Wanda. 

How utterly disappointing it was, when your thoughts wandered back to her. Back to her soft red curls, slightly frizzy as they splayed across her bare back. You always swore you woke up next to an angel everyday, and Wanda would laugh as she showered you with kisses. Her laugh, flowing from her lips with a melodic grace as her lips danced softly across your skin. Back to her freckles, a constellation neatly scattered across her features that you had attempted to count many times. Back to her waist and hips, the slow curve that you dragged your fingertips over, until you finally reached her…

A hand against your waist startled you out of your thoughts, and you flushed slightly as you turned in your seat. Setting your drink down on the counter top, not wanting to enter into the range past tipsy, you looked up. 

A sea of red curls filled your vision, and your eyes slowly widened as you drank in the sight of Wanda standing before you. She had a hand in her pocket, the other stroking your hip in slow circles as your brain attempted to process. Her vibrant green eyes crinkled at the edges as she watched the multiple emotions you were feeling flit across your face. Her skin was lit with the ever-changing hues of the nightclub, and you started to feel as though you were in a cinematic movie scene. 

“Not a movie sweetheart.” Wanda said, her velvety voice wrapping around your head and sinking you further into a trance. You could hear the undercurrent teasing, but elected to ignore it in favor of staring at her. Staring at her ridiculously attractive cheekbones, at her sharp jaw and shining eyes as she drank in the sight of you.

Jolting out of your seat, finally processing the fact that she wasn’t a figure of your imagination, you wrapped your arms tightly around her shoulders as you sunk into a well-known embrace. Your bodies molded together, and you felt her arms tighten securely around your waist. You couldn’t make yourself pull away, letting the hum of the nightclub fade into insignificance as you attempted to convey the depth of your emotions through your embrace. Wanda nestled further into your arms, your breaths synchronizing as you held each other. 

Breathing deeply, you buried your nose into her hair as the familiar scent of vanilla filled your senses. For some reason, that gave you enough strength to pull away, but only far enough so you could see Wanda’s face. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was slightly breathy as you eagerly drank in the sight of her. She gazed down at you, her eyes fitting to your parted lips as you exhaled shakily. She smiled, leaning in closer until her lips touched the shell of your ear. You shuddered. 

“My trip ended a bit later than expected,” Wanda started, her tongue flicking out against your ear. You felt her smirk against you as a shiver ran down your spine. “And I didn’t want to wait until you got home to finally see you, so I came to you.”

A large smile made its way onto your face. Your girlfriend, who had just flown miles back home and who was probably jetlagged as hell, had made the decision to walk into a grungy nightclub in search of you. At the mere thought of how much effort she’d put into seeing you, you crashed your lips against hers. 

Her lips met yours with an equal amount of ferocity, and you felt her dragging you away from the bar as she sucked your bottom lip between her teeth. You followed happily, all of your thoughts invested solely on the woman you were clinging to. She pulled you through a doorway, the security team waving her through as they recognized her well known status. 

You could barely think, a certain fuzziness overtaking your mind as it focused solely on Wanda. You focused on your hands against her shoulders, the way your fingertips brushed against the overheated skin of her neck and tangled in the loose curls that fell around her shoulders. After a desperate tug of her hair, Wanda pulled away briefly to push open a door, before shutting it and pushing you harshly against the solid wood. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Wanda whispered, her lips grazing yours as she caught her breath. Her cheeks held an adorable flush, and her eyes shined as they roamed over your heaving chest and shaky legs. Her hands pressed your hips firmly against the door, and you squirmed slightly as you attempted to pull her closer. 

“I missed you.”

The words flowed from you desperately, and Wanda smiled at the whimper in your voice. She always loved you like this, when you were soft, pliant and so eager to please. She allowed herself to be pulled closer, until the front of her body was flush with yours. You rolled your hips against her, letting out a choked noise from the back of your throat as you relieved some of the aching pressure that had built between your legs. 

Letting her teeth graze your jaw slightly, Wanda focused on marking the soft skin of your neck as you panted beneath her. Her hands stilled your rolling hips, and you whined as she pulled back to look at your desperate form. 

“What exactly did you miss?” She asked, raising a single eyebrow as you struggled to get your brain to work. 

Catching a glimpse of the soft bed behind you, and realizing that Wanda had pushed you into one of the private backrooms of the nightclub, you pushed gently against her shoulders. Allowing you to walk her backwards, Wanda let out a surprised puff of air when the backs of her knees met the mattress. 

Moving to straddle her, you tangled your fingers with her smooth curls once more as you tilted her head back. With your lips against her temple, you breathed in the familiar heady scent that was so wholly Wanda as you murmured, “I’ll show you.”

Wanda’s hands tightened around your waist, keeping you on her lap as you ran your hands over cheeks and jaw, fingers ghosting over her skin as you started speaking. “I missed your annoyingly perfect eyebrows,” She let out a surprised giggle, raising them playfully as you laughed. Bringing a single finger down to her lips, you placed it against her bottom lip. “I missed your lips, so soft and kissable, and the words that drip from them wherever you speak.” 

Tilting your head down, you placed a gentle kiss against her lips, pulling back when she attempted to deepen it. Wanda furrowed her brows as you pulled away, but you smiled softly and placed your finger against her lips once more as she tried to speak. “Hush love, I’m not done.”

Sitting back, Wanda watched your face as your eyes followed the path your other hand traced down her neck. As your fingers ghosted over the column of her throat and danced along her collarbone, she gently sucked your finger into her mouth. Your eyes flew back to hers in surprise, but she simply smiled around your finger, her tongue swirling around the heavy pad as you watched with parted lips. 

You groaned, finding it hard to concentrate as you watched Wanda suck on your finger like it was the best thing she’d had in her mouth for a while. You placed another finger against her lips, and watched in an almost trancelike state as she sucked that one in as well. Her eyes closed slightly as she sucked, and she let out a low moan as your other hand tightened against her shoulder. 

The sound startled you out of your daze, and spurred you on. Reaching down, you removed your fingers from her mouth as you swiftly pulled her expensive blouse over her head. Throwing the article somewhere behind you, you brought your fingers back to her parted lips and sighed as you felt the wet heat of her mouth encircle them once more. 

“I missed your skin,” You said breathily, running a hand over her toned arms as they pulled you further onto her lap. You gasped as your core met her pelvis, and tried not to grind your hips down against hers. Unclasping her bra, she helped you take it off as you ran your fingers over her perspiring skin. Leaning down, you let your tongue drag against her, collecting the slightly salty taste as you traced a path from the tops of her breasts all the way to her ear.  

“I missed the way you feel against me,” You whispered, and she reached up to pull your fingers out of her mouth. In one smooth motion, she pulled your shirt off and unclasped your bra, both items landing somewhere with a soft thump as she maneuvered the two of you towards the center of the bed. 

You giggled slightly, feeling her hot breath against your overheated skin as she drank in the sight of you. She leaned closer, her lips parted as her eyes focused on the smooth skin of your neck, but you placed your hands firmly against her shoulders. Pushing back, you ignored the frustrated look she sent you, shushing her as you guided her to lay against the sheets. 

Your hips still straddled hers, and after sitting back up, you rolled them slightly as you gazed down on Wanda’s form. She lay beneath you, her chest heaving as her eyes roamed your nude chest, her hair splayed out across the dark sheets. 

“I missed your tits.” You said cheekily, reaching out your hands as your fingers pinched her nipples gently. Instead of reprimanding you like she normally would, Wanda let out a soft moan as she squirmed slightly, her hands tightening on your thighs. You felt your breath catch, the heat in your belly flaring at the sight. 

Leaning down, you captured her lips in a searing kiss, letting unrestrained moans into her mouth as she kissed you back with equal ferocity. Panting, you parted from her as you trailed your lips down her neck until you reached the soft skin of her breast. Sucking gently, you placed a few hickeys against her skin, sighing when her hand reached up to tug at your hair. 

Wanda’s hand clenched tightly, bringing tears to your eyes when you finally let your mouth encircle her tight nipple. Letting out a pained noise, you breathed deeply as she glanced down apologetically, her hand relaxing slightly. Flicking your tongue, you pulled more moans from her as you played with her chest. You could feel your bodies sliding against each other as the heat from your desperation built. 

Deciding to give the poor woman some relief, you detached your lips from her chest, admiring her puffy nipples as she groaned. Wanda’s hands became more desperate as you descended her body, tugging your head closer to her overheated skin as your lips grazed the top of her pants. She let out a desperate whine, and your eyebrows shot up at the sound. 

“I missed your hips.” You traced your fingers over the faint stretch marks you found there as you pulled her pants down in a quick motion. Your fingers mapped out a path along her skin as you traced the mole near her belly button, and the soft raised scar on her hip from when she’d fallen out of a tree when she was five. Moving further down, you spread her legs as you knelt between them, letting your lips trace a path from her ankle up to the apex of her thighs. You sighed softly as the scent of her arousal reached your nose, and you nuzzled your face into the soft skin of her inner thighs as her legs attempted to close around your head. 

You shook your head out of the clouds, blinking as Wanda hips frantically raised against your palms. You looked up, watching her heaving chest and admiring her strong jaw as she threw her head back against the mattress. One hand was clenching the dark sheets under her, and your eyes widened at the sight of her white knuckles. The other hand gripped your wrist tightly, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against your sweaty skin as her legs tightened around you. 

Placing your hands firmly against her thighs, you spread her legs as she bucked her hips. Letting her hand tangle with your hair, you chuckled as she attempted to press your face against her dripping center. You admired the wet spot forming against her underwear, blowing a stream of cool air against her core as she writhed beneath you. 

“Please.”

You let out a moan of your own at her plea, before quickly stripping her of her underwear and leaving her completely bare against the sheets. You barely had a moment to admire her pale form against the dark fabric before her hand was tugging your head closer to her once more. 

Placing a gentle kiss against her protruding clit, you smirked as her hips jerked. “I missed your scent,” You murmured, unsure if she could actually hear you over her own desperate moans. “I miss the way you taste against my tongue, and the way you roll your hips when I finally lean in for a taste.” 

Wanda’s moans turned into desperate pleas, her hips now uncontrollably rutting against the mattress as she searched for any sort of release. Taking mercy on her, you finally leaned down and swiped your tongue against her core. Moaning at the taste, you circled your lips around her clit as she babbled incoherently while thrusting her hips against your face. 

The grip of her hands in your hair caused tears to spring into your eyes once more, but you ignored it. Sucking harder, you urged her hips to buck faster against your face as her moans became more breathy. You felt her jerk unsteadily against you, her hips losing their rhythm as she neared her climax, incoherent words streaming from her lips. 

Sucking her clit in between your teeth, you bit down gently while swirling your tongue around it, and Wanda lost what little control she had left. Her legs tensed around your head, squeezing tightly as her body shook. Her clit pulsed on your tongue, and you smirked as a wave of wetness hit your chin. Her head was thrown back, her lips parted as she let out a throaty moan. Her fingers locked in your hair, her hand firmly pressing you against her spasming core as she rode out the last few waves of her orgasm. 

You licked your lips clean after finally coming up for air, her legs relaxing just enough for you to pull away slightly. As soon as you caught your breath, you dived right back in and savored the rich taste of her against your tongue. As you slipped your tongue inside her, you decided that you would do whatever it took to always have Wanda within arms reach. You simply couldn’t fathom being separated from her for an extended period of time again, and you quickly lost yourself in the drug that was Wanda Maximoff. 

A trembling breath brought your attention back to the woman still sprawled on the sheets. Her legs trembled around your head as you slipped your tongue in and out of her still-leaking center. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally locked those viridescent green eyes on yours. As soon as you made eye contact, you smiled against her core as you brought your fingers up to circle her clit slowly. 

Pulling away, you licked the taste of Wanda from your lips as you slipped two fingers into her without warning. You kept your eyes locked with hers as you slowly started pumping your fingers, and Wanda’s eyes lidded as she attempted to keep her gaze on you. 

Smirking devilishly, you licked a slow circle around her swollen clit before placing a kiss directly on top of it. Resting your cheek against her inner thigh, you kept your gaze on her as the sounds of your fingers roughly slamming into her filled the room. Her slick juices spilled onto the sheets as your fingernails dug into her hip in an attempt to keep her hips in place. 

“I crave you, Wanda.” Your sultry voice tipped her further towards the edge, and Wanda threw her head back against the mattress as she let out a stream of curse words. 

You curled your fingers as you stroked that very sensitive spot inside her, pressing firmly into the spongy walls as you sucked her clit between your lips. Wanda’s back arched, and she practically lifted herself off the bed as she reached her climax once again. This time, you hummed against her as she rode out the aftershocks, and her third orgasm snuck up on her and ripped through her body like a wildfire. 

Throughout it all, you were relentless. Your fingers kept up their bruising pace as your lips chased her clit. You were starting to get light headed as Wanda’s legs squeezed your head, the hand in your hair not allowing you to escape her grasp. Wanda’s hips jerked against you, and she let out a few whimpers as the hand in your hair started pushing against your head. 

“Too much sweetheart, too much.” Wanda choked out, panting in relief when you finally pulled away. She let herself relax fully against the mattress, rolling away from the center of the bed when the damp sheets grew uncomfortable beneath her. You emerged from the small in-suite bathroom with a damp washcloth. Hushing her, you gently brought the warm washcloth to her slick skin as you cleaned her up. 

You couldn’t resist one final taste, and after swiping your tongue to collect the juices still flowing from her slit, you finished cleaning your girlfriend and collapsed on the bed beside her. 

“Well.” Wanda said, and you laughed at her inability to speak as she rolled into your side and buried her face against your bare shoulder. 

Pressing a kiss on the top of her head, you breathed in her familiar vanilla scent as she pulled you closer. You wrapped your arms around her as she draped her legs over yours in an attempt to mold her body against you. You let a hand start running through her hair, detangling it slightly as she fully relaxed into you.

“I missed your laugh.” You said, and Wanda hummed against your shoulder. You began speaking again, your words filling the non-existent space between the two of you. “I missed the crinkle of your eyes whenever you smile at me, and I missed cuddling with you and watching sitcoms. I missed the breakfasts that you cook, and I missed putting away the dishes with you afterwards.” 

You laughed then, not believing the words coming out of your mouth. “I mean, who misses doing the dishes?” You snorted, burying your face back into Wanda’s hair. “Only a fool in love would miss doing the most mundane task.”

Wanda tilted her face until she was looking at you, her green eyes shining up at you. “You love me?” Her voice was colored in surprise, and her face turned hopeful. 

Blinking, you realize the words that had just slipped out. “I mean… yeah.” You began, running your fingers through her hair nervously as you met her wide green eyes. “I hope that’s alright, I don’t want you to feel like you have to say it back right now or anything, but yeah.” You trailed off, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks at your accidental admission. 

One of Wanda’s hands came up to rest against your cheek, and she tilted your flushed face back towards her. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled brightly up at you. “I love you too sweetheart.” 

Your heart started pounding, and a wide smile broke out on your face as you excitedly started peppering Wanda’s face with kisses. “I love you too!” You exclaimed as she laughed, her hands wrapping around the back of your neck as she pulled you in for a proper, searing kiss. 

Pulling away after a few long seconds, you rested your forehead against hers as an uncontrollable grin overtook your lips. Time stood still as you both basked in the newfound confessions you’d made. Wanda’s fingers grazed your jaw, her touch gentle and grounding as your mind raced with excitement. 

In that moment, as your foreheads remained gently pressed together, you knew that this was the beginning of an exhilarating chapter of your life. One that Wanda would be by your side in, her hand pressed in yours as you faced the world and conquered any obstacles that may come your way. As you lingered in each other's gentle embrace, the world outside faded into insignificance, and you knew that you had finally found true love.

[whalesforhands]

I just stumbled across your page and I am LOVING the whole stsg×reader collection ❤️❤️

Not sure if you mind me dropping this here but I love a good cliché truth or dare!!! (sry for any grammar mistakes btw English isn't my first language)

Imagine stsg, shoko and reader all sitting in suguru's room and just spinning an empty bottle to see who the next poor unfortunate soul is going to be. It lands on reader and the attention flusters her too much, so she panics and picks dare, only to regret it instantly when an evil grin is etched on everyone's face (esp satoru's).

Unfortunately for reader, satoru is quick to suggest ideas, most of them getting shot down by the other two as they deadpan at his (very obvious) attempt at getting you to fulfill his little fantasies.

The chaos was absolutely unimaginable, with satoru whining dramatically and suguru smacking him, shoko aiding the latter as she (most definitely not) gently kicks him.

In the end everyone agrees on you kissing each of them on their cheeks, though satoru might have snuck a little peck on your lips while the other two weren't looking hehe.

ANON THE WAY I DROPPED MY OTHER DRAFTS TO GO WRITE FOR THIS ONE AHHH

I HOPE U LIKE THIS CAUSE I LIKED THIS IDEA

party games are my way into your heart (gojo x reader x geto, shoko x reader)

warnings: gojo’s harassment, kisses, only shoko and geto have rizz, gojo stans why are so many of you in my inbox, and why are all of you so damn horny for him

“Excuse my intrusion…” You had said, taking your shoes off before you entered Suguru’s room.

You could swear you didn’t mean to be late. It’s just… You weren’t used to meeting all three of them out of your uniform.

(You spent majority of the time thinking about what to wear.)

Your infamous thigh high socks, and a comfortably casual outfit consisting of a skirt Shoko had lent you, an inner shirt and a jacket.

(Shoko picked out the outfit for you. “The highlight are your socks.” She had smirked, digging them out from your closet.)

Now, sat inbetween Ieiri and Satoru on Suguru’s carpet, you felt nervous as you politely crossed your legs.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

It spun and spun and spun.

It landed on you.

Oh. You’ve never had that happen before.

(You never even played this game in your life.)

“Truth or dare?”

Uh… What are you meant to pick? Is truth too safe? Will choosing the easy option make you lame? Does Ieiri like it when people choose dare? Why does Satoru look so excited? Does Suguru-

“Uh, uhm… Dare?”

You’ve really gone and done it now.

Satoru grins, Suguru smiles. Ieiri downs another sip of her drink.

Satoru speaks first.

“Take off your thigh highs and give them to me.”

…what? Your… socks? You stare dumbfoundedly at Satoru. Why would he want that?

You looked him in the eye. His eyes were glowing, a thin smile on his lips as he shifted a bit closer to you.

Oh. He’s being serious. Not a bad dare, you suppose.

You slowly begin to peel them off before Satoru was dragged away from you, Suguru’s hand coming to stop your own.

“No, no. You don’t have to do that.” He had sweat on his brow, worry etched on his face as a pink blush encompassed his cheeks. “He was just joking.”

Shoko’s grip on Gojo’s collar tightened. A smile on her face as her eyebrows dipped downwards in irritation. “Just. Joking. Right?” Each word was enunciated with venom.

Gojo sputtered, “What about just one sock?”

Another elbow to his gut.

(“Sit on my lap?” No.)

(“Wear my clothes!” Absolutely not.)

(“Let me feed you alc-“ Nope.)

“How about just… Giving us all kisses?”Glares direct themselves at Gojo, what, how uncomfortable is he trying to make you?

“On the cheek!” He put his hands out defensively, as if trying to shield himself from any incoming attacks.

——

Gently pecking one of Ieiri’s cheeks, you gently turn her head and place another sweet kiss on the other, smiling as you part ways from her.

She is always so sweet. Her perfume emanated fragrantly from her, dressed in her cute sweater and shorts.

You hold her hand in one of yours, gently squeezing it as you stare at her.

(“You both done over there yet?”)

——

He watched you as you turned over to him. Your eyes hazy as you settled by his side, a hand on one of his broad shoulder as you leaned up, closing your eyes.

Suguru pleasantly sighs as he feels your lips upon his face, your other hand reaching across his chest to steady yourself on his other shoulder as you land another shy peck on his other cheek, a smile on his face throughout.

He opens his eyes to look at you, staring deep into your eyes. He sees you shift forward once more.

(Did you just give him an extra one? Adorable.)

(“Can you both hurry up?”)

——

Gojo Satoru feels wronged when he has to go last. He was the one suggested this, why does he need to go last?!

He pouts when he feels you press your cute lips to one of his cheeks, his sunglasses teasingly removed from his face by you and carefully held in your hand, the other pressing itself against his chest to steady yourself.

He deserves more, doesn’t he?

As he feels you move to his other side, a devious plan forms.

He closes his eyes, shifting to be face to face with you as you lean in to give him his other kiss. He can’t mess up this timing.

You were surprised to feel his soft lips against your own instead of his smooth cheek. A strong hand coming up to pull you in closer as you kneeled, wide-eyed and surprised before the hazy feeling disappeared all too soon.

Satoru pulled away first, winking at you as he reached for his sunglasses.

masterlist

Notes:

“That’s harassment, you dirty, disgusting man!”

“Satoru… I’m disappointed in you…”

You were still in shock, your fingers reaching to feel the lip balm smothered on your lips. It was strawberry flavoured.

“Satoru,” Your quiet voice began, stopping the two shaking a laughing Gojo Satoru around.

“What… Brand is your lip balm?”

He gave you a brand new one he had in his dorm room later on.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Heyyy!! I’m so sorry about your health issues, I’ve been experiencing similar lately and they suck :( so I hope that Friday goes well for you!! I wanted to ask if u have any thoughts about toby and/or LJ, either works :)

Thank you very much!! I hope you like your rambles :)

For Toby, I have the idea in my mind that he's gotten into origami recently. It's something fun he can do to distract himself and try to be creative, and focusing on the origami helps calm down his tics, so he doesn't feel as stressed out while he's working on it. I think he probably makes different things from origami for everyone in the mansion (and he'd definitely make origami for you as well), and he buys a bunch of different colors and patterns of paper so that they can all look different. I think it would be cute if he had a little shelf in his room where he puts all of his favorites that he's made.

Adding onto that, I feel like he’s totally into friendship bracelets. Whether it’s beads or making those rainbow loom bracelets, I can absolutely see him doing that as a way to focus and destress as well, and he absolutely makes at least SEVERAL for everyone in the mansion. If you’re his partner I feel like he’d make one for you on a regular basis, and they always match his and he likes wearing them with you and it just makes him so happy. If you make him a friendship bracelet in return he will be ECSTATIC and never take it off. It’s now a permanent part of his body, you will not get it off of him.

I’m now also making it a thing that LJ is into bedazzling. Like listen okay listen, LJ can take the most over the top conflicting clownish outfit in the entire world and slay, so now imagine that outfit but covered in gems. DOUBLE slay. This man will sit there for hours talking to people or watching something just hand placing gems on his clothes and his shoes and they always turn out so nice. If you’re his partner, I feel like he’d offer to do something for you if you want him to (and he can go subtle if you’d like, he’s just That Bitch for his own stuff), but even just having you there makes the experience more enjoyable. Having you cuddled up by his side while he does it makes the experience way better.

I think his other knew this is his devotion to learning slang. Like I’ve mentioned before that sometimes he picks up on stuff but no, now he is DEVOTED to it. I don’t think he’s a tech guy but they all have to have phones for work and I think LJ got like tiktok or something JUST so he could pick up on new slang, and he will just randomly drop new slang he’s learned at the most random times. He made several people choke on their food at dinner one night by saying what the sigma. He cannot and will not be stopped. Whenever someone says they need to use the bathroom he always says go piss girl. It’s just so strange seeing this incredibly old clown man that is anything but modern saying things like this but he will not be stopped. If he’s dating you, by the way, you’re also his informant. If you learn a trend or a new thing before he does you are 100% required to explain it to him so he can start doing it. Nobody knows where he’s getting all this information but it’s you and tiktok.